The New Elite (The Exceptional S. Beaufont Book 4)

by Sarah Noffke

  Sophia chuckled at the sign.

  A woman’s head popped out from behind a ten-layer chocolate cake on the top of the main display case. “What are you laughing at?”

  The woman had short hair and a studious expression in her eyes.

  “Oh, hey!” Sophia greeted her. “I just was laughing at the sign.”

  The woman, who was wearing flour on her cheeks like it was blush, scowled at Sophia. “Why? What is funny about it? We literally have every baked good you could want.”

  “Well, it’s just impossible to have everything,” Sophia argued.

  “It’s limited thinking like which has kept you in that dead-end job of yours,” the woman spat.

  “I’m a dragonrider for the Elite,” Sophia countered, thoroughly amused by the ornery woman.

  “And you will stay there for the next thousand years unless you broaden your thinking!” the baker exclaimed.

  Sophia looked at Wilder, who was hiding the grin on his face, although not very well.

  “Dear, are you harassing the patrons again?” another woman asked, coming in from the back and carrying a large box labeled “Weapons.”

  The woman pointed at Sophia. “She started it.”

  “Of course, she did,” the other woman said, her French accent strong. She was shorter than the other lady and had cropped red hair. “But we don’t point, remember. And we don’t say the things we are thinking out loud. Now, where do you want your assassin weapons?”

  The first woman threw her hands up in the air. “Well, I will take the knife right now since I’m going to stab you with it.” She leaned forward and whispered. “Cat, assassins don’t usually broadcast that information to other people.”

  The woman, who was apparently named Cat, nodded like this all made perfect sense. “Also, Lee, good assassins don’t leave their weapons lying around. You know today is when I clean the back room.”

  “You clean the backroom every day, dear,” Lee said, an inflection on the last word. “Morning, noon, night. Oh, I think a speck of dust fell from the rafters just now. Do you need to rush back there and clean it up?”

  Cat shook her head of short red hair. “No, I don’t.” She glanced up at a tiny fairy dusting the ceiling. “Go on then. Go get that speck of dust.”

  The fairy buzzed off, blurring through the air.

  Wilder cleared his throat to get the arguing couple’s attention. They both turned their heads and gave him murderous stares.

  “What do you want?” Lee asked him.

  “Well, shockingly, I was hoping to buy something to eat. Can I please get a chocolate chip cookie,” Wilder said.

  Lee shook her head. “We don’t have any.”

  He cocked his head to the side and pointed at the sign. “I thought you had everything.”

  “We did,” Lee explained. “But I ate all the cookies this morning.”

  “I can whip up some more for you,” Cat said good-naturedly. “Do you have any food allergies?”

  “Because if you do, you can show yourself out,” Lee fired. “We don’t cater to pansies who can’t tolerate gluten or snotty jerks who shove their vegan agendas down our throats. And those with nut allergies can suck it up, Buttercup. I ain’t got time for that nonsense.”

  Wilder smiled. “Don’t worry. I’m not picky. Actually, I’m sure I can find something else since you are out of cookies.” He pointed to a display case at the end of the row. “What are these about?”

  The case of assorted pastries appeared like all the other ones, except there were little red signs in front of each item. They said things like Bittersweet Chocolate Tarts, Shush It Strudel, Cap ‘Em Cannoli, and No Lies Lady Fingers.

  “Oh, Scotsman, I don’t think you are ready for that,” Lee told him. “Why don’t you stick with the nonmagical baked goods.”

  “Those are magical?” Wilder asked, ignoring the assassin baker.

  “They are,” Cat sang, laying her arms on the top of the case and peering down into it proudly. “Give the tart to someone bitter, and they’ll become sweet. Give it to someone sweet, and they will become bitter.”

  “And if you give it to a cantankerous old witch, you get this,” Lee said, holding a presenting hand at her wife.

  “Oh,” Sophia said, intrigued. “The Shush It Strudel will make someone be quiet, then?”

  “Yes,” Cat affirmed and looked at the woman beside her. “Would you like a slice, my love?”

  Lee shook her head. “No, but remember that loose shingle on the roof needs to be fixed. I will hold the ladder for you, dear, if you will get up there and take care of it.”

  Cat plastered a smile on her face. “I will definitely do that if you will fix the blow dryer. It’s hanging next to the sink, which is still leaking. There is water all over the floor in front of it.”

  Lee flashed her own disingenuous smile. “I’m happy to look into that, right after you sample those Cap ‘Em Cannolis. I think they might be too sweet, but why don’t you be the judge of that, sweetie?”

  “Oh, do the Cap ‘Em Cannolis actually…you know?” Sophia asked, afraid she would have to shut down the bakery if it sold murderous pastries.

  “Unfortunately, no,” Lee said with a sigh. “They only put the eater into a very long nap. But I will get the formula right at some point, and they’ll do what they are intended to.”

  “I’m afraid that is illegal,” Wilder commented, raising an eyebrow at the woman.

  “’I’m afraid that is illegal,’” Lee said in a high-pitched voice, doing an awful impression of him. She looked at Cat and shook her head. “He is a unicorn rider.”

  “Dragon, actually,” Wilder corrected with an amused glint in his blue eyes.

  “Same thing, Scotsman.” Lee waved him off. “Okay, well, I have a job to get to, so hurry up and order.”

  “A catering job?” Cat asked.

  Lee cut her eyes at her. “Yes, a catering job. Is my ski mask clean, dear?”

  “If you put it in the laundry basket last night, it is,” Cat replied.

  Lee rolled her eyes. “Fine, I will wear one of the other ones. This side business isn’t going to take off unless I’m prepared before each assignment.”

  “Oh, is that the problem?” Cat argued. “I thought it was because you can’t shoot someone even if they pull the trigger for you.”

  “Well, I need more target practice, honey,” Lee explained. “If you agree to help, I’m sure I can get better. Let’s go out to the shooting range later. I will tell you exactly where to stand.”

  Cat shook her head. “I would, my darling, but I have to clean behind the refrigerator. It’s been ages since I have done that. What would I say if someone saw what was back there?”

  “What the hell are you doing looking behind my refrigerator, Jerkface?” Lee asked.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Sophia cut in. She had said she could spare an hour for this excursion, but this could turn into more like half the day at this rate.

  “Then don’t interrupt,” Lee chimed. “Can’t you see adults are talking, Dragonrider?”

  “I was just hoping to get an apple turnover,” Sophia said, pointing at the case where the triangle pastries were calling to her.

  Cat shook her head. “Oh, no. You don’t want those. Pick something else.”

  “But that is what I want,” Sophia argued.

  Cat patted the side of Lee’s arm. “Get her one of those profiteroles.”

  “Oh, but I—”

  Cat gave Sophia a stern expression, cutting off her stuttering. “You will love these. I make mine so sweet it hurts your teeth. You will really enjoy it.”

  “Sounds great,” Sophia replied, not meaning it.

  Wilder pointed at a kolache. “And I will have—”

  “You will share her profiterole,” Cat said in an authoritative voice.

  “You don’t want us to buy more pastries?” Wilder protested disbelievingly. “You are ordering us to share when we were willing to give you more mo
ney?”

  Lee shook her head and handed over a white paper bag with the profiterole. “We don’t want your money. Just be on your way and don’t tell anyone about the bodies in the back.”

  “What bodies in the back?” Sophia asked, taking the bag.

  Cat rounded on her wife, her brow scowling. “If you got blood on the floor again, I’m going to murder you in your sleep.”

  “You can try again,” Lee said with a laugh. “But next time, you have got to really hold the pillow down for a full two to three minutes.”

  Cat waved her off as she made for the back of the shop. “Oh, who has time for all that? Just clean up after yourself, would you? I’m tired of being the one who has to dispose of the bones.”

  Lee stormed after her, fists by her side. “You need to stop throwing those away! We bury bones, not chuck them into the trash like some amateurs.”

  Sophia and Wilder burst out laughing when the couple disappeared into the back.

  “Those two are a riot.” Sophia opened the small sack and tore the pastry in two. She offered the other half to Wilder.

  He held up his hand, pretending he didn’t want any. “Oh, no. I don’t eat sugar. It’s a gateway drug.”

  Chapter Eighty-Five

  Sophia was still giggling when they made their way to the Fantastical Armory. She reasoned it could be from the profiterole, which was so sweet it made her eyes burst open with surprise at the first bite.

  Wilder had shared half with her, and it had been perfect for them. There was no way they could have each finished a whole one. Those kooky old women might have been more intuitive than Sophia realized. Although if Lee really was an assassin, she would have to pay the bakers another visit. She thought she might be able to let it slide since they did make an amazing profiterole and were quite entertaining.

  Sophia wiped the powdered sugar from her hands and bobbed her head graciously at Wilder as he held the door to the Fantastical Armory open for her.

  Subner was waiting for them just inside the shop full of weapons. In contrast to the bakery that smelled of sweet treats and rich coffee, the Fantastical Armory had a masculine scent about it, like a locker room mixed with the musty weapon room at the Castle.

  Father Time’s assistant was leaning against one of the glass cases, his shoes crossed in front of him. His long stringy hair obscured one eye, and he had his usual serious expression. He wore a tattered t-shirt that said: “War is over, if you want it. – John Lennon.”

  “Is it weird the Protector of Weapons is wearing an anti-war shirt?” Sophia asked Wilder in a mock whisper, pretending Subner couldn’t hear her.

  “Yeah, it seems like no war would put him out of business,” Wilder said with a wink.

  The hippie-looking-elf rolled his eyes. “Don’t even get me started. Yesterday I was wearing a shirt that said, ‘What if I fall? Oh, but darling, what if I fly?’” He shook his head, looking severely irritated. “Being a hippie in this incarnation is probably going to kill my usually cheery spirit.”

  Sophia’s gaze skirted to Wilder, and they shared a confused expression.

  Subner leaned forward and gave them a conspiratorial expression. “Maybe I can hire you two to do me a little favor. Most dangerous job ever and it will probably kill the both of you—”

  “You are really selling this,” Sophia interrupted with a laugh.

  He waved her off. “It’s not that bad. I just need you to murder Father Time. He can’t really die, not really, but the whole thing would make him regenerate and make me do so as well. Hopefully, I would come back as something less irritating, like a magician or a gnome.”

  “Or you might be a pretty little fae,” Wilder teased.

  Subner shivered as if the idea repulsed him. He shook his head. “Actually, forget it. I can’t risk becoming a fae again. The last time that happened, I fell in love, and it pretty much made me throw up.”

  Sophia clasped her hands together beside her chin and batted her eyelashes at the elf. “You are such a romantic.”

  “I’m not,” he told her. “But that reminds me, Wilder, I have a new mission for you involving cupid and getting his bow and arrow. You can’t do it until you help Sophia and the Dragon Elite resolve the security problem at the Gullington.”

  “You know about that?” Sophia asked.

  The Protector of Weapons gave her a cold expression. “Yes, as the assistant to Father Time, the most powerful entity in the world, excluding Mother Nature, I happen to be privy to what is going on at the Gullington.”

  Sophia shook her head and gave Wilder a teasing expression. “I don’t think we will be able to pull off Subner’s surprise party after all.”

  “No, you won’t,” Subner stated matter-of-factly. “Not to mention you don’t know when my birthday is since I was technically never born.”

  “Hatched,” Wilder told Sophia, elbowing her in the side. “He was hatched like a dragon.”

  “They still have birthdays,” she argued.

  “Which reminds me, tell Liv when she is done helping you, Father Time has a new mission for her,” Subner informed Sophia.

  “Oh, we definitely want her help, but if she is needed, I will send her here,” Sophia offered.

  Subner shook his head. “That is not necessary. This mission isn’t time-sensitive since it occurs in the past. The events she needs to stop have already happened, but once she is done, it will change quite a bit.”

  Sophia nodded to Wilder. “That is so typical.”

  He agreed. “Change important historical events?”

  Subner shook his head. “No, just the number of flavors Baskin Robbins has.”

  “And that is important?” Sophia asked.

  “Yes, it changes everything.”

  “The balance of the world rests on very strange things, doesn’t it?” Sophia remarked.

  “Indeed, it does,” Subner affirmed.

  “Okay.” The light expression dropped from Wilder’s face. “You want me to go on this cupid mission after the mess at the Gullington is over. Will do.”

  “Actually, I want you and Sophia to go on it together,” Subner corrected.

  “You do?” Wilder wondered, surprise in his voice.

  “Well, naturally,” he answered like this should have been obvious to the dragonrider. “Only the one who helped you free Excalibur could help you steal cupid’s bow and arrows.”

  “Isn’t it going to mess up things if we take Cupid’s weapon of love?”

  “No, that out-of-control creature hasn’t been spreading love for eons,” Subner muttered. “We will get into all of that later.”

  Sophia had so many questions. She thought Cupid was a myth. She used to think the same thing about dragons, so it just went to show the world was still full of surprises. Before she could ask any of her burning questions, Subner held up his hand.

  “So, S. Beaufont, tell me, were you surprised you were able to pull my sword from King Arthur’s stone?” Subner asked.

  Chapter Eighty-Six

  “Wait,” Wilder cut in. “Did you say it was your sword?”

  Subner gave him an irritated expression. “Of course, it was my sword.”

  “Do you mean because all weapons belong to you?” Sophia asked. She still didn’t really understand how the Protector of Weapons worked.

  He shook his head. “No, I mean because Excalibur was originally mine, but then that jerk King Arthur stole it and stuck it in the stone in the Gullington. Although I can technically get in there, I respect the rules of the Dragon Elite.”

  “You needed Wilder to get it for you,” Sophia guessed.

  Again, Subner shook his head. “No, I needed you to get the sword, but you don’t work for me, so I assigned the task to Wilder.”

  The hippie elf was obviously getting irritated with having to explain everything to the two of them.

  Sophia scratched her head. “Okay, you knew Wilder wouldn’t be able to pull the sword.”

  Subner sighed, nodding alon
g. “Yes, and I knew he would come and get you to help him.”

  “I lost Simi,” Wilder complained. “What kind of set up is that?”

  “It’s a perfectly reasonable one for someone who is privy to the future,” Subner dismissed him, unconcerned about Wilder’s frustration.

  “But there is no set future,” Sophia argued, remembering what she had learned about everything on timelines being in flux due to free will and choices. “What if I refused to help Wilder get Excalibur?”

  “Then Simi would have stayed stuck in the Round,” Subner answered. “And although that is true about the future, I can also factor in what I know about the players involved.”

  “We are just pawns in this game for Subner,” Wilder grumbled, pretending to be irritated.

  Ignoring him, Subner went on, “I know Sophia cares more about her family and friends than anything else in this world. Therefore, I made the educated guess that when you, Wilder, lost what you value most, Sophia would help you.”

  “How did you know I would go to Sophia for help?” Wilder challenged. “I could have gone and gotten the Queen of England to pull the sword.”

  “Ah, yes, but she isn’t a dragonrider and therefore can’t get into the Gullington,” Subner pointed out.

  “Those who are usually disallowed from entering the Gullington can at the moment,” Sophia argued.

  Subner sighed heavily. “Fine, fine. Good point. I knew when Wilder was in trouble, he would run to you, Sophia.” He gave them both a stern expression that felt like a weird reprimand. “You both know why so I wouldn’t push me to answer more questions on this unless you want me to say it out loud.”

  The tension that ran over Wilder’s face was palpable. Sophia swallowed down her own sudden nervousness.