The Trouble With Witches

by Kristen Painter

  “Got it.” Her head whipped around like it was on a swivel. “Did I just see a guy with a tail?”

  “Jason’s in town?” Deacon glanced back, but didn’t see the man. Then he frowned at Em. “What part of ‘don’t stare’ was unclear?”

  “Calm down. He couldn’t see me in your truck.”

  “Let’s hope not. Jason can be a little touchy.” Deacon parallel parked two doors down from the Black Horse Bakery, put the truck in park, and turned it off.

  “Why? What’s his curse?”

  “He’s a minotaur. Which makes him a shapeshifter. And he has a bad temper. But since he’s been keeping his horns shaved down, he’s been a little more chill.”

  She twisted in her seat to face him. “A minotaur like from Greek mythology?”

  “Yes. Shadowvale is an anything goes kind of place. You’ll see.”

  “I guess I will.” She canted her head to one side, giving him a curious look. “You know, you still haven’t told me about your curse. I know you said it’s not done—asking, that is—but we’re friends now, right? And don’t friends tell each other those kinds of things?”

  Were they friends? He liked that. It was a lot better than being enemies. “Maybe I don’t want to.”

  “Okay, that’s fine. I respect that. Can you at least tell me if you’re a cursed human or a supernatural? Or if you’re hiding a tail? I’m guessing not. Those jeans are kind of tight, and I think I’d be able to see it.”

  She’d opened the door, so he walked through it. “You’ve been looking at my butt?”

  She went red. “That’s not what I meant.”

  He laughed and decided not to embarrass her further. “No tail. I’m a cursed supernatural.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t say anything more, but he could see the questions in her eyes, questions she had to be dying to ask, but her sudden mortification seemed to be keeping them at bay.

  She was awfully cute when she was embarrassed. He pulled the key out of the ignition. “Let’s go get your cupcake.”

  “Right.” She reached for the door handle, letting her hair swing down to hide her face.

  They got out of the truck, and he went around to the sidewalk, expecting her to make haste for the bakery, but she stood there for a moment, looking around.

  A shop down the street had caught her eye. “So all these stores are really what their signs say they are? Like that place over there actually sells spell books?”

  He glanced in the direction she was looking. “Spellbound? They sell more than spell books and grimoires. They sell magic accessories, too. Crystal balls, scrying bowls, wands, all that kind of stuff. A few ready-made potions and salves. But if you’re looking for regular books, there’s the Gilded Page. Other side of the street and down a few blocks.”

  “What’s a grimoire?”

  “A book of magic. Pretty much another kind of spell book.” He cocked an eyebrow. “You’re a witch. Shouldn’t you know this stuff?”

  “I’m not absolutely convinced I’m a witch, but even if I am, I just found out, so I don’t know about any of this.” She looked at the shop a little longer, squinting a bit. “And this is absolutely all for real?”

  He nodded. Too real sometimes, in his opinion.

  “Why isn’t it better known, then? Why aren’t witches and vampires and shapeshifters more mainstream instead of being the stuff of make-believe?”

  “Personal protection, mostly. On several levels. If your friends knew you could create a love potion that would bring them their soul mate, don’t you think they would ask?”

  She pondered the question. “Can witches do that?”

  “I’m not really sure. But let’s say they can.”

  “Then my friends would probably ask. But that would be okay. I wouldn’t mind doing it for them.”

  “I’m sure you wouldn’t. What about strangers who wanted a spell to win the lottery, or heal their sick child, or remove an enemy from their life? Where would you draw the line? How do you know you wouldn’t be hounded relentlessly for your abilities? Threatened because of them. And don’t even get me started on vampires and werewolves and some of the scary supers.”

  “There are things scarier than vampires and werewolves?” Then she held up a hand. “Never mind, don’t tell me. I don’t think I’m ready for that yet. But I see what you mean about staying hidden. There’d be no peace.”

  “No. And most of the folks who live here now have already experienced that in some way. It’s why a lot of them are here. They’ve been in fear for their personal safety. Or that of their families.”

  Compassion filled her eyes. “Wow. I guess Shadowvale is a lot more special than I imagined.”

  Inwardly, he groaned. He didn’t need her thinking Shadowvale was special. He needed her to think it was awful and restrictive and dreary.

  For the man in charge of solving problems, he was really screwing this up. “Come on, let’s get a cupcake.”

  Chapter Nine

  Em seesawed between overwhelming giddiness and absolute fright. Shadowvale seemed like the coolest, creepiest place she’d ever imagined. Actually, she’d never imagined a place like this. It was beyond anything her mind could have come up with.

  But was it creepier than she could handle? So far, she didn’t think it was. But then, she was still getting to know the place and had yet to see much of it.

  What she did know was that being here in the midst of it felt different in a way she’d never experienced before. She knew the outside world existed beyond the gated entrance, but…did it? For the people who lived here, the outside world seemed to hold no importance.

  Which meant if she lived here, she could leave the outside world behind, too.

  That part made her almost breathlessly happy. Except when she thought about everything she’d be leaving. Like her mother, whom she loved even though the woman had ruined Em’s life in so many ways.

  After all, she only had one mother. And moving to Shadowvale would mean not just leaving Manda, but leaving her while she was in prison.

  Just the thought of that filled Em with guilt, an emotion her mother shouldn’t be able to stir up in her and yet did. In buckets.

  Would she be able to visit on occasion? She couldn’t imagine doing it more than once or twice a year. But still, not being able to visit at all would weigh on her, because despite all the chaos that Manda had created for Em, that parent-child connection remained.

  Once again, more answers led to more questions.

  Deacon held the door to the bakery open for her.

  She smiled at him and put her questions away for the moment. “Thanks.”

  He grunted in reply.

  She almost laughed. He was ridiculously good-looking, and his slightly grumpy demeanor was charming in a gruff kind of way. It was amusing, too, at least to Em, because some of it seemed like a big put-on. Like he was reminding himself that none of this was supposed to be fun.

  Well, she thought it was fun. Especially because everything in this town was a revelation. From the meowls that she just wanted to pet and squeeze, to the store that catered to witches, to the citizens who got curiouser and curiouser. There was so much to learn and explore in this place. She could see spending days just looking through the shops.

  Like this bakery, for instance.

  The tantalizing smell of sugary baked goodness rushed her as she stepped inside. She took a moment to breathe it in while she looked around.

  The interior was done in black and white with touches of deep purple and shocking green. She’d never seen a bakery that looked like this. Or had such morbidly interesting sweets on display.

  Three long display cases made up the store’s counter, and there were cupcakes, all right. Decorated with sugar spiders and fondant crows and wonky eyeballs. Some had cat faces (or maybe they were meowls) with whiskers that stuck out past the paper cups. The cakes next to them were the same way. One had tiny black ants marching across the frosting. It took Em a second to b
e sure those ants weren’t real.

  There were some standard things in the cases, too. Cookies, brownies, bars, and pies. Loaves of bread filled racks on the side wall, and they all looked pretty typical, too, although the dark rye was almost black.

  Next to the bread racks, the wall was covered with chalkboard paint, and the menu was laid out. Pie of the Day was blackberry.

  In front of that wall were some comfy leather chairs and small round tables. On the other side of the store was a big leather sofa with two more matching chairs and a coffee table in the middle.

  For a place that seemed to specialize in darkness, it had a pretty cozy vibe. She could see hanging out here, for sure. She nodded at the chalkboard. “I bet that pie is good.”

  “It is,” Deacon said. “But don’t feel like you have to try it today. Blackberry is always the Pie of the Day.”

  “That could change at any time.” A wisp of a woman walked out from the back. Strikingly pretty, she wore black pants, a black-and-purple-striped tee, and a white apron with the Black Horse Bakery logo on it. This close, Em realized the horse in the logo looked a little…possessed. “But it won’t because blackberry is very popular. In fact, there’s someone who comes in and buys six at a time.”

  “Who?” Deacon asked.

  The woman’s brows bent and she frowned. “I can’t remember.”

  Her dark hair was pulled into a high ponytail about as thick as Em’s wrist. She sported an extremely smoky eye and penciled brows that arched skyward. She put her hands on the counter, tapping her pointed, black nails on it, and looked at Deacon. “You didn’t come in here to pick up the cake, did you? Because the work order says Saturday.”

  “Nope, just came in to show your bakery to a visitor,” Deacon said. “Nasha, this is Emeranth. Amelia’s niece.”

  Nasha’s perfect black brows arched a little higher. “Didn’t know Amelia had any family. Nice to meet you. Welcome to Shadowvale.”

  “Thanks,” Em said. “Nice to meet you, too. This is quite a shop you have here. Smells like heaven.”

  Nasha’s answering smile was sly, like maybe she thought Em had made a joke. “Thanks. Can I get something for you? Despite what Deacon may have told you, it’s all good.”

  “Actually, he’s been singing your praises.” Em looked at the goodies on display again. “Say, is there anything in particular that my aunt likes? It would be nice to take something back that’s one of her favorites.”

  Nasha glanced at the racks of bagged bread against the wall. “She likes the pumpernickel raisin. And Beckett likes the mocha cupcakes. Or any cupcake, really. Unlike your aunt, that man has a sweet tooth.”

  “Perfect. Then I’ll take a loaf of the pumpernickel raisin and one of the mocha cupcakes.”

  “Oh, take half a dozen. He really likes them.”

  “Um, okay.” That was going to cut into her budget, but cupcakes couldn’t be too expensive, could they?

  Nasha pulled on a pair of plastic gloves. “And for you?”

  “I’m good,” Em said.

  Deacon turned to look at her. “You couldn’t stop talking about cupcakes a second ago.”

  Nasha tipped her head. “If you don’t see a flavor you like, I might have something in the back.”

  Em hesitated, biting her bottom lip. She definitely wanted to try something, too, but she wasn’t exactly flush with cash. “How much is the bread and the cupcakes?”

  “Nothing.”

  Em leaned forward. “How much did you say?”

  “Nothing.” Nasha waved her hand over the display case. “Everything in the shop is free.”

  Em almost wiggled her fingers in her ears to see if they were clogged. “It sounded like you said everything is free.”

  “It is.” Nasha looked at Deacon. “Didn’t you tell her how this whole shop is me getting back at my father?”

  He closed his eyes and sighed out what sounded like a small profanity. “Yes, but I forgot the free part.”

  Em couldn’t imagine why he looked so cross about that bit. “That’s amazing. This place just gets better and better.”

  “Doesn’t it?” he mumbled.

  Nasha smiled at her. “So what’ll it be?”

  “Is it wrong that I want to say one of everything?”

  Nasha laughed. “No, but’s it going to take me a minute to box all that up.”

  “I can’t do that, it wouldn’t be fair. What’s that chocolate cupcake with the sugar skull on it?”

  “That’s my Chocolate Reaper cupcake.”

  “Is that your version of death by chocolate?”

  “It is. It’s chocolate so dark it’ll claim your soul.”

  Em snorted. “Sounds like my kind of cupcake. I’ll have one of those.”

  “I’m on it.” Nasha took a box from the shelf behind her and started filling it.

  Em glanced at Deacon, who looked like someone had just kicked his dog. “What’s got you all grumpy all of a sudden?”

  “Nothing,” he muttered.

  But it didn’t take an expert in people to see he was bothered by something. What that was, Em had no clue.

  Nasha handed over a white shopping bag with the bakery’s logo on it. “Here you go. I took the liberty of adding a few more things I think you might like.”

  “Thank you. That was so nice of you.”

  “No problem. Tell your aunt I said hi. And come back again before you leave. There are always new things on offer.”

  “I will, but I don’t think I’m leaving.” Em grinned. “This place is starting to feel like home.”

  * * *

  Home?

  That was not what Emeranth’s reaction was supposed to be.

  Deacon was failing. Hard.

  It was definitely time to take a trip to the swamp.

  Em put her bag into the truck’s back seat, then climbed into the front of the cab. “Where to now?”

  He got in and shut the door with more force than he’d meant to. Whatever. He wasn’t here to make friends even if that’s what Em thought they were. He cranked on the engine. “The swamp.”

  “Where the gators are?”

  There was a teasing lilt to her voice that made him want to tease right back, but what was the point of that? To make her like him? That wasn’t productive. So he kept his grump going. “Yes. And the vampires.”

  The amusement drained from her face instantly. “There are vampires in the swamp?”

  “Not in the swamp. They live there.” He turned down Main Street. The swamp was on the opposite side of Shadowvale from where Amelia lived.

  Her forehead was bunched into lines. “Vampires live in the swamp? With the gators?”

  “No. In houses.” He sighed. “You’ll see.”

  She frowned and looked out the windows, watching the shops go by. “But there’s so much here I haven’t seen yet. Look at all those stores.”

  “There are stores everywhere. There’s nothing unusual about them.”

  “Oh, really? Because where I come from there aren’t any shops that sell Bewitched Broomsticks. Is that really a thing? Can witches ride broomsticks?”

  “Beats me. Ask your aunt. I’m not up on what witches can and can’t do.”

  She went silent for a long moment, then finally asked another question. “Did I do something to upset you? Your mood has changed since we were at the bakery.”

  Maybe because he knew he was losing his fight to get out of here. But now he felt bad for making her think his attitude was her fault. Crud. He hadn’t intended that. He hadn’t really meant for his last comment to come out quite so sharply either. He softened his voice. “No. You didn’t do anything.”

  “Then what upset you?”

  He couldn’t tell her. “I’m just a cranky guy.”

  “Is that your curse?”

  He almost laughed, biting his cheek instead to keep the chuckle from rolling out of him. “Something like that.”

  She nodded with sudden understanding. “Well, I won�
�t hold it against you.”

  “Thanks.”

  She was really something. Pretty and sweet. Accepting and forgiving. Easy to like. He made himself focus on the road. He was a cursed man from a cursed family. She was a talented witch from the most powerful family in Shadowvale. He was supposed to be turning her against this place, not making googly eyes at her.

  “Do you think we could go back to Main Street after the swamp?”

  He laughed, unable to hold it in any longer. “You must really like to shop.”

  She shrugged. “I do, but just window-shop. That’s all my bank account allows for. I’m just fascinated by all the magical stuff. I mean, until last night, I didn’t even know I was a witch.”

  Chapter Ten

  Deacon pulled off the road and threw the truck into park, then turned to look at Em. “You keep saying you just found out about witches and that you are one. How did you not know that they existed if you’re one yourself?”

  She shrugged. “Aunt Amelia said I never knew about my own powers because my mother never did the initiation ritual with me. Or told me we were witches. So I had no idea. I wasn’t even sure I really believed Aunt Amelia, but she did a few things that were undeniably witchy, so yeah, she’s got some kind of magic skills for sure. Thankfully, Aunt Amelia’s going to do the initiation for me. Then I’ll be able to access my powers. Crazy, huh?”

  Crazy wasn’t the word. He got back on the road, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. “You’ve spent your entire life not knowing?”

  “Whole life, no clue. But Aunt Amelia told me a few things that were probably indicators of my magic, things I never really gave too much thought to before, but that make sense now. My magic has always been a part of me. Just a closed-off part. She’s going to help me open that door.”

  “Indicators like what?” The moss hanging from the trees grew more frequent, a sure sign they were approaching the swamp.

  “Like how I always knew when bill collectors were calling before I answered the phone. Or when the landlord was at the door asking for the rent. Stuff like that.”

  How odd. Those things confirmed the sense that she was struggling with money. And had been for some time. She’d also asked Nasha how much the stuff at the bakery was going to cost. And had made the comment about her bank account not letting her shop.