Bake or Die

by January Daphne

  I turned to go. “I’ll see you at the party tomorrow, Misty. Have a good evening.”

  Misty smiled politely. “Yeah, I’ve got to get back. See you later.” She nodded to Wes. “Thanks for the help with the boxes.”

  The sun was setting as Wes and I rode back in my mom’s pickup. Wes drove since he knew how to drive stick shift. I stared out the windshield at the trees whizzing by. I couldn’t stop thinking about Misty’s words.

  “Misty had Rosie’s keys,” I said quietly. “She lied about no one having access to them.”

  Wes nodded, his eyes on the stretch of road illuminated by the truck headlights. “I know, and she’s with that guy.”

  I sighed. “How’d you know?”

  “I’m good at reading people. I’ve told you that.”

  I nodded absently, wondering if maybe Rosie had been involved in my mom’s murder. But what possible motive would she have had?

  “Sam, hey,” Wes nudged me with his shoulder as he pulled the truck up beside Willa’s Miata. “A penny for your thoughts?”

  I forced a smile. “Just because she lied doesn’t mean she’s a bad person.”

  “I know that. Good people lie all the time.” Wes’ lips tightened as he held my gaze. The old truck door squealed as he slid out. “Let’s get these groceries inside. I’m starving.”

  15

  “Willa, how are you feeling now? Dizzy? Light-headed?” Connor asked.

  I turned off the shower and stuck my head out from behind the shower curtain. “No, Connor, but I am feeling really uncomfortable with you supervising my shower.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way.” Connor leaned up against the bathroom sink. He was still wearing his wet jeans and his fleece, though he’d stripped off the wet t-shirt underneath. “But I don’t know how low your body temperature got, and warming up too quickly could cause you to pass out.” He yanked a towel off the towel bar and tossed it to me.

  I caught it while still managing to keep the shower curtain covering the important stuff. “This is so embarrassing.”

  Connor rolled his eyes. “It’s not like I can see anything.”

  I wrapped the soft material around my torso. “I don’t care about that.” Though, that wasn’t entirely true. I didn’t love the idea of Connor seeing me in a towel, but I refused to let him know that it bothered me.

  “So what’s the problem?” he asked.

  “I feel stupid that I lost control of my magic,” I said. “My fire spell was working until I lost my focus.”

  “It’s my fault for letting you do it in the first place,” Connor said.

  I pulled back the shower curtain and stepped out. “I don’t need your permission to do my magic.”

  “You don’t know your limits. Your magic’s not back yet in any useful way.” Connor’s eyes quickly flicked away from my body, settling on the tile floor.

  “It would’ve been fine if I hadn’t lost my concentration in the lake,” I said, combing my fingers through my hair.

  “The bottom line is, you’re not performing at the level Rebecca was, and you’re not ready to work on cases,” Connor said, eyes still trained on the floor.

  Anger coursed through my veins. “That’s not your call,” I said.

  Connor’s eyes snapped up to mine. “It is my call.”

  “Keep telling yourself that.” I stepped around him to get to the door. “Your turn for the shower. I’ll find you something to wear.”

  “Wait.” Connor held his hand out, blocking my way. “Are you feeling OK? Are you warm enough? Do you feel nauseous, feverish, anything like that?”

  “I feel fine, Dad.”

  “Stop calling me that. I’m not your dad, and I don’t want to be. You’re making me act like this. You’re behaving like a child. Do you ever think before you act? This is our first day working together, and you almost died. I had to save you. You’re being reckless with your life, and that makes my job more difficult. If you die, you’re going to leave your sister alone to do this job. Is that what you want?”

  “Screw you,” I said.

  Maybe I was being reckless. Maybe I was taking more chances because I had magic now. That didn’t give him the right to treat me like his. He was humiliating me.

  He pulled his arm away from the door. “Go drink something hot and get under some blankets. I’ll be right out.”

  “So it’s OK for you to have an unsupervised shower, but I can’t,” I argued.

  “I wasn’t in the water as long as you.”

  “So?”

  Connor’s eyebrow lifted. “So I’m not worried about passing out.”

  “I wasn’t either, and I told you that. Still, you insisted on standing in the bathroom the entire time I’m showering.”

  “I didn’t believe you. You’d tell me you’re fine, then you pass out, hit your head, and I’d have no idea.”

  “You should believe me when I say I’m fine.”

  Connor shoved his hands in the pockets of his fleece jacket. He stared at his muddy shoes, silent for a beat. “It’s my job to keep you safe. That’s what I’m doing. If you don’t like how I do my job, tough. This is how I am.”

  “Well, this is how I am.”

  Connor aimed his eyes up at the ceiling. “If we’re going to argue, would you please put on some clothes?”

  “No.” I folded my arms, fully aware of how ridiculous I looked with wet hair and a skimpy towel, but I didn’t care. “I have to supervise your shower. What if you fainted? Hit your head? I couldn’t let that happen on my watch.”

  “Willa, get out,” Connor growled.

  “No.”

  Connor let out a long sigh. “I’m getting really tired of fighting with you about everything.”

  “So am I.”

  “You want to stay in here? Fine. I don’t care.” Connor unzipped his jacket, revealing his bare chest.

  I took a step back. I had not expected him to do that. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

  “You got something to say?” Connor’s muscles tensed as he stripped off the fleece jacket.

  Heat rose to my cheeks as I tried not to stare.“You could do that behind the shower curtain like I did.”

  “I could. Or you could leave.”

  Connor had long, lean muscles that drew the eyes down towards the sliver of boxer shorts that peeked out from the waistband of his jeans. I was most surprised to see that his broad chest was completely smooth and hair-free. Did Connor McGregor manscape?

  “You’re seriously getting naked in front of me?” I folded my arms, attempting to call his bluff.

  He unzipped his fly. “Stay, go, I don’t care.”

  “You wouldn’t,” I said.

  “Why not? What’s the difference? You’re not sixteen anymore. I doubt you’re going to see anything new.”

  That remark made my temperature spike. “But I haven't seen… you.”

  “Whatever.” He slid down his jeans, revealing navy boxer briefs.

  He was calling my bluff, and my stubbornness was the only thing keeping me in that room. “Connor, just, stop.”

  He hooked his thumbs under the elastic of his boxers. “You’re the one still here.”

  “Ugh! Fine, you win.” I let out a frustrated sigh. “I'll be in the living room.”

  I had just gotten a fire going in the fireplace when Connor appeared in the doorway. His wet hair lay carelessly across his forehead and the t-shirt I’d loaned him barely made it to the waistband of his snug sweatpants. He looked less like the macho town sheriff and more like the all-American jock from twelve years ago.

  Connor paused to admire the blazing fire I’d started in the hearth. The firelight softened the hard angles of his face. I patted the spot on the couch beside me, inviting Connor to sit.

  He lowered himself down, stretching his arm across the back of the sofa.

  I offered him part of my blanket and he dropped it over his lap. He sat close enough to me that our legs were touchin
g. I could feel his body heat radiating off of him.

  Or maybe it was coming from me.

  I swallowed, willing myself to get a grip on my hormones.

  I was never going to be able to unsee what was underneath Connor’s clothes, and it was really making it hard to concentrate on anything right now.

  “You want to tell me what happened back there at the lake?” Connor asked. “You were swimming. Then you panicked. You started flailing your arms, and then your head went under. It was almost like something pulled you.”

  I touched the heel of my hand to my temple, feeling a headache coming on. “I think I was reliving my mom’s last minutes. Those bubbles were energetic residue containing my mom’s memories. When I came into contact with that energy, it was like I was experiencing the moments as if they were mine.”

  “It sounds like you had a vision. Did you see who killed her?” Connor asked.

  I blinked, surprised he didn’t try to tell me I’d imagined the whole thing. “No, but I suspect the murderer is supernatural—some kind of creature who can pull memories from someone’s mind. It’s also a creature who is strong enough to hold my mother under the water until she drowned.”

  Connor shifted, settling into the cushion. “So we’re looking for some kind shifter or water nymph. Maybe even a siren.”

  I glanced over at Connor. “How do you know about all that stuff?”

  He tipped his head down, meeting my gaze. “The internet, your mom, personal experience. I’ve been doing this four years now.”

  I shook my head. “Don’t trust the internet. Most of the supernatural blogs are trash.”

  “I know.” Connor nodded. “I only use one.”

  “Which one?” I asked.

  “It’s called ‘Slayer of Monsters.’ Kind of a dumb name, but the content’s good. It was mine and Rebecca’s go-to when we needed info for a case.”

  I smiled. “I know that one.” It was my blog. I used an alias on it, though, because I didn’t want internet strangers knowing about me and my work.

  Connor swiped a hand through his hair. “Did you find anything else out from your vision?”

  I bit my lower lip, debating whether or not to tell him the other part. That was dangerous territory. Guilt and shame tied my insides in a knot as I thought about my secret—the one I knew I had to tell him but was too scared to do it.

  “No, nothing else.”

  Connor leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs as he steepled his fingers. “We weren’t alone at the lake today. Did you know that?”

  I shook my head. Goosebumps spread across my arms. “Why would you think that?”

  “Someone took your boots. It must have happened when I pulled you out of the lake.” He touched his fingertips to his chin. “They took your boots, but left the phones, keys, my gun, and my jacket.”

  “Do you think it was someone playing a prank?” I asked.

  Connor scrubbed his hand over his face, wiping his damp hair off his forehead. “It doesn’t feel like a prank to me. I didn’t see anyone around after I got you out of the water, and there were no footprints anywhere, other than ours.”

  “Just like when my mom died,” I breathed. “You think whoever killed my mom was out there watching us.”

  “Possibly.” His eyes flicked to me. “And you wanted to go out there yourself.” His mouth formed a hard line. “We’re not doing things your way anymore.”

  I was about to argue, but as I opened my mouth, a terrible thought snapped into the focus. I inhaled sharply, my hand flying to my mouth.

  Oh no, I thought. Oh, no, no, no, no, no...

  “What is it?” Connor straightened up, his hand on my wrist.

  I mentally sorted through the puzzle pieces.

  The murderer had been interrogating my mom about our hiding places—and now the guest cabin had been broken into. The only thing missing was the contents of that trunk, the notebook of spells.

  The love spell I’d used was knot magic and required a string belonging to the victim.

  With a simple incantation that my sister had written and an overhand knot, that love spell could steal away a person’s free will.

  Forever.

  Now I understood why someone would want to steal my boots.

  They wanted my laces.

  They wanted to use my sister’s spell on me.

  “Willa, you’re shaking.” Connor pulled me closer. “Are you still cold? Are you feeling sick?”

  Did I dare tell Connor? That would open a whole can of worms twelve years in the making. What if he asked me more about the spell?

  Just tell him, I thought. You don’t have to tell him everything. Just tell him enough.

  It was a slippery slope. If Connor ever found out the whole truth, I had no idea what he’d do.

  What was the proper reaction when you found out someone stole your free will away twelve years ago because she wanted a date to homecoming?

  “Willa? Did you hear me?” Connor asked, his face a mask of concern. “You’re scaring me.”

  “Sorry.” I shook my head, trying to clear my mind. “Connor, I think I know what the murderer wanted, and I need to warn you that I might start acting differently. If that happens you have to restrain me.”

  His gaze was razor sharp. “You’re going to have to explain that one to me.”

  “There’s a love spell that my sister wrote that uses knot magic. It was in the notebook that got stolen out of the trunk in the guest cabin.”

  “Hold on.” He stiffened. “You said nothing was missing.”

  I am so totally busted.

  “I lied.”

  The fire crackled, filling the silence. “You… lied? You lied about information on a case we’re working on together?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Oh, that’s not going to fly with me.” Connor got up from the couch, tossing the blanket away. “Why would you do that? I’m trying to help you. You asked me to help. You had me investigate the break-in. The whole time you’re lying to me?”

  If you only knew how deep the lies went, I thought.

  I pulled my knees into my chest. “Connor, there’s more I have to tell you.”

  “No, first you answer my question. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

  He dropped his face into his hands, his shoulders trembling. When he looked over at me, his eyes were wild. “You’ve known me your whole life, Willa. You used to trust me. What the heck happened? What did I do to lose your trust?”

  I wrapped my arms around my knees, curling into a ball, wishing I could just disappear. “It’s not you, Connor.”

  “Then what is it, huh?” He dropped down next to me and cupped my chin in his hands. “Willa, you know me. I understand we haven’t talked in twelve years, but back then you trusted me completely. Then you left without a goodbye, and that’s fine—we were kids.”

  “Connor, I’m sor—”

  “No, you let me finish.” Connor pressed a finger to my lips. “Now you’re back here and acting like a huge pain in the neck. You’re withholding information. You’re surly. You’re lying to me about the details of an investigation. That’s unacceptable.”

  “I know,” I whispered.

  He leaned closer, forcing me to look him in the eyes. “What is your problem with me? I need you to tell me right now because it’s getting in the way of my job.”

  A lump rose in the back of my throat as I looked into Connor’s pleading eyes.

  You didn’t do anything, I thought. It’s me. I'm a terrible person. I ruined your life, and I can’t fix it.

  I remembered so vividly the day I swiped his hemp macrame necklace from his gym locker.

  I remembered sitting in the guest cabin with my yearbook open in my lap to Connor’s picture as I tied the knot.

  I remembered whispering my sister's incantation.

  “With this knot, your heart is mine,

  Forever b
ound through space and time.”

  I had cast the spell on him, and it worked like a charm. If only I’d known what a love spell actually was—that it had nothing to do with love. It was all about control.

  Once it was cast, it forged an unbreakable connection between Connor and me.

  It felt to him like he loved me.

  And I did love him, with every beat of my silly sixteen year old heart.

  All the smiles and kisses and laughter felt real.

  But it wasn’t real. None of it was.

  I couldn’t love him—not after I cast that spell.

  I could only own him, and that wasn’t love.

  Connor McGregor hadn’t even known I existed before my spell.

  Was it still in effect?

  Maybe twelve years had weakened it. I had to test it and see.

  I closed my eyes and visualized the knot while Connor ranted. Then I sent a silent command to Connor. Stop talking and listen.

  I opened my eyes and saw Connor staring at me expectantly.

  Was this connection still as strong as before? I wondered. Could I still make this man do anything I wanted?

  I would need to command him to do something he wouldn’t want to do.

  I hugged a pillow in my arms, bringing my eyes up to meet his.

  Apologize to me.

  Connor shifted on the couch, his jaw clenching. Something was happening in his mind—gears were turning.

  Finally, he gathered my hands in his, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. “I’m sorry, Willa.”

  My heart sank.

  He was definitely still under the knot spell. Connor McGregor didn’t do pedestrian things like apologize.

  Especially when I was in the wrong. I’d lied to him about a lot more than one missing notebook.

  It was stupid to hope that the love spell wasn’t affecting him anymore. I’d done everything I could to undo it twelve years ago. Nothing had worked.

  “Why are you apologizing?” I asked, still testing him.

  Connor frowned, his eyes darting away. “I don’t know. I feel like I should.”

  That confirmed it. He’d done it because I made him. I tried again, giving Connor another command. Tell me I am the apple of your eye and the wind beneath your wings.