Deadly Sweet Read online

  “Anisssssss—”

  A shudder rolled through me, making my palms shake against the raw glass. I still couldn’t feel it.

  You will later.

  “Enough.” Agatha legit Force-choked him, lifting him by the neck from across the room with tongues of purple lightning. Before she could ask a single question, he croaked that same dreadful noise. It was like hearing his soul ripped out. He arched even higher than Agatha had lifted him, spine contorting. A puff of red and black burst from between his lips and dissipated with the hum of an angry beehive. When Agatha let him go, he dropped hard to the floor.

  Dead. Life force sucked away by his master.

  “Anise?” Agatha swung to me, but there were two of her and her voice echoed.

  Two Wynns jumped up to grab me.

  “Glass.” I tried to warn him.

  All four of his eyebrows drew down. “She’s slurring her words. Slurring her words.”

  “Amnootsluuu…”

  Oh, hell. My lips felt loose as pizza dough.

  I’d sent Wynn way too much of my energy.

  My eyelids fluttered.

  “Take her upstairs. Upstairs. Upstairs,” Agatha’s voice echoed. Or were all the Agathas talking at the same time?

  My eyelids stopped fighting before I could find out.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I woke up in my bed who knew how much later. My desk lamp was on and the curtains were drawn against the darkness. Was it the same night?

  I remembered Wynn carrying me and someone forcing another god-awful brew down my throat. My eyes felt like I’d had a botched a Botox injection—heavy, stiff, and not quite right.

  My body definitely wanted more sleep, but now that I was up, I needed answers.

  How the hell had a Hand broken Agatha’s wards? If the warlock had come, that might’ve made sense, but a Hand? Alone?

  One enchanted stone shouldn’t be powerful enough to destroy our whole magical security system.

  My legs wouldn’t swing over the edge of the bed, but I managed to push them, which made both my knees and palms sting like a bitch. Thick gauze bandages wrapped both glass-mangled areas, including the thumb I’d pricked.

  But I wouldn’t be able to see the bandages on my knees if I were wearing pants.

  I wasn’t.

  Under the sheet, all I had on were undies and my bra. I didn’t care what happened to my work uniform, but I’d better get that pair of leggings back.

  Though why I’d worry about leggings when my life was in danger…

  I had to think of something I could manage. Like clothes.

  Clothes were manageable.

  I tottered to the dresser and grabbed hold of the top, barely staying upright. My legs still shook. I’d really taken it to the next level. My power felt so much more with the vortex nearby, I forgot my limits.

  A soft purring stopped the shakes. Fondant lay curled at the foot of my bed.

  But nothing in my room was damaged?

  Instead, the familiar gave off a subtle sheen of power—like a magical noise machine. The energy brushed my skin like the softest fur. Gentle and soothing.

  Fondant was soothing me?

  Now I really needed to talk to Agatha, because that stone must have punched a hole into an alternate reality. I found a baggy pair of sweats that would fit over my knee bandages and then carefully shrugged into my last clean T-shirt. If I was attacked again, I’d have to stay naked afterward, because I had nothing left to wear.

  A jar of ointment sat on top of the dresser, casting off a hint of enchantment—like moth wings on my fingertips. I assumed I’d be slathering myself with it the next few days, but I wasn’t unwrapping my hands until someone told me to. I wasn’t ready to see the damage.

  Fondant didn’t stir when I fumbled open the door, but at the speed I was moving, she could nap another half hour and still beat me downstairs. When the door was shut, I let out a breath that turned to a yelp.

  Wynn sat against the wall across from my door. Asleep, thank goodness. He wore the same outfit from the attack. Not that I’d cataloged his clothes, but the scorch marks on his T-shirt and gauntlets made it pretty obvious. A bandage wrapped his arm where he’d been burned and I caught the same herbal scent of the enchanted ointment. So he was being taken care of, even if he was sleeping in the hallway for whatever reason.

  Not wanting to disturb him, I started to shuffle past.

  “Stay in your room.” One of his eyes flicked open.

  “I have to talk to Agatha.”

  “She’s not in.”

  I braced myself against the wall as I frowned down at him. “Where is she?”

  “Warlock hunting with the Syndicate and Shields.”

  I waited for him to give me a little more, but I shouldn’t have been so optimistic. Whatever I wanted to know, he wasn’t going to volunteer. I’d have to pry. “How long was I out?”

  “A few hours.”

  I’d only lost the rest of the day. That was better than expected, although I needed to pass out again soon. At least I could be back up and running tomorrow. “Do you know when she’ll be back?”

  “Didn’t say.” Wynn closed his eye again, maybe trying to signal that the conversation was over?

  I wasn’t done, though. “What about the wards? Did she re—”

  “You’re safe.” Both eyes opened now. Wynn set down the sword he’d been balancing on his knees and rose to loom over me. I reflexively stepped backward, shoulder blades bumping the wall. “She left you the cat. There are five more Shields downstairs and Servants from the Wus. Don’t go looking for trouble.”

  Safe wasn’t exactly how I felt with Wynn towering over me. I wrinkled my nose. Today he smelled like burnt hair. Had he not even cleaned himself up after the attack? “If there are that many people here, why haven’t you taken a break?” Or a shower?

  “I don’t take breaks.” His voice was flat. And…angry?

  I didn’t know him well enough to tell for sure, but there was a rougher edge to his tone than even his surly usual. I wobbled against the wall. Now wasn’t the time for Wynn’s moods. If Agatha wasn’t around, then I would head to sleep. I just had one more question. “Did Agatha tell you her plan?”

  There had to be a plan. Some super clever way of tracking and ending this warlock.

  There had to be.

  “You’re moving in with the Wus. That’s all you need to know.”

  My legs shook again. Was it so bad that I had to move out? Would Agatha still take me back afterward? I had to talk to her. Leave her a note, even. Wanting to check her office myself, I took a careful step down the hall.

  Wynn grabbed me around the waist, scooping me into his arms.

  “Don’t—!” I started to struggle, but my torn-up hands screamed when I grabbed for Wynn’s shoulders.

  “Bed.” Wynn pushed back into my room.

  I winced, expecting him to toss me, but he eased me down so gently that Fondant didn’t twitch. Before I could think about sitting up, he was tucking the comforter around me.

  Hard. Like swaddling a baby.

  Anger burned behind my breastbone, but a wave of tiredness hit me as soon as I let myself sink into the pillow. “If you stopped ordering me around—”

  “Might as well. Ordering doesn’t work.” He pulled the comforter all the way up to my chin with a self-satisfied smile that made me want to rub a whole jar of jam on his shirt.

  “I can take care of myself.” I jerked my head, trying to loosen the blanket prison.

  His gaze hardened. “You should’ve retreated.”

  “Huh?” What was he even talking about?

  “Don’t fight.” He yanked the blanket and tightened over my shoulders. His hands were gentle, but his voice rang like iron. “Hide. Stay safe. I handle the battles.”

  My jaw dropped. “I lent you my energy.” That meant something, and for him to not acknowledge it… A sinkhole opened in my belly and any last expectation I had for Wynn plummeted to
the bottom. “I helped you win that battle.”

  “Don’t do it again.”

  “Then show up sooner.” The words slipped out, vibrating with the anger that boiled in my gut. Because seriously. If he wanted to be all alpha bodyguard, then he shouldn’t have left me alone downstairs. I’d kept the Hand from hurting any customers and then given him my literal life force to take over the fight when he finally made an appearance.

  I wasn’t the one with the problem here.

  A vein pulsed in his neck. I hunched deeper underneath the comforter, tucking my neck so the fabric shielded my mouth and nose. Wynn kept staring, and as angry red crept up from his collar, I considered covering my whole face. Should’ve kept my mouth shut.

  Eventually, he stormed into the hall, slamming the door behind him.

  I would’ve been shaking with anger, but Wynn had tucked me in too tightly to move that much. All I could do was grind my teeth together.

  Next time I baked for Wynn, I was folding in wasabi and a spell to give him hotdog farts.

  After loosening the sheets enough to breathe, I passed out, hoping I’d wake up refreshed.

  The opposite happened.

  Getting out of bed felt like crawling out of the grave. Or clawing out of it after being buried alive. My hands were definitely messed up enough that it looked like I’d torn through a coffin lid.

  And my entire body ached from my teeth to my bone marrow. Sluggish didn’t begin to cover it.

  Fondant had disappeared, but a note sat in the hollowed-out spot she’d left in my comforter. It was short and not that sweet:

  Moving to you to Wus for safekeeping. Be ready at ten. Servants will pack for you.

  ~Agatha

  Safekeeping? I sounded like somebody’s old jewelry, not a human being.

  And how safe would I be anywhere if this warlock could crack wards? If her Hands could crack wards?

  I wasn’t sure how many Hands a warlock could manage at once, but in the shadow of the vortex, there might not be an upper limit. I hoped the Syndicate was scouring the land around the vortex itself. If I were a warlock, I’d want to stay as close as I could to that power.

  Bumbling around to get ready, I didn’t dare take off my bandages to shower. Somehow, I managed to brush my teeth with a gauzed-up hand. That left me an hour to burn before someone toted me down the street like luggage.

  I considered calling Mom but vetoed the idea. If my voice shook like I knew it would, it would freak her out that much more. Instead, I came up with a message that gave her the idea without the worst of the danger: A Hand attacked the bakery. I’m fine. Agatha and the Syndicate are sending me to stay with Wus while they hunt the warlock.

  Her reply vibrated instantly. You’re safe?

  I’m fine. I repeated. No plans to look for trouble.

  Do you still have the contact info I sent? Call Sylvia as soon as you can. You need more protective magic.

  I scrolled back through our texts to the list of names and numbers Mom had sent after our last talk. Sylvia Cano’s number was first on the list. Sylvia with the silver magic?

  Yes. She owns the best herb shop in town. You can trust her.

  I let out a shaky breath. If it was the same Sylvia who’d cast that beautiful magic at the Syndicate gathering, I already did trust her. I’ll message her soon. Not sure if I’ll be going out much, though.

  You keep me updated. Promise?

  Promise.

  And come home if it’s that bad. Just until they catch the warlock. You’ll be safer away from the vortex.

  I let my thumbs hover over the keys for a little bit before responding, I’ll think about it.

  If I left…

  My shoulders tightened up, rebelling before I could finish the thought. Leaving wasn’t an option. Agatha could replace me if I ran away, and Stef Oates and who knew how many other witches were lined up waiting for an apprenticeship spot to open. My job was the only thing I couldn’t risk.

  I’d rather deal with the warlock.

  When I stepped into the hallway, Wynn was still there, still wearing the same outfit and dozing with his sword across his knees. He didn’t stir when I walked past, though, so I must be allowed downstairs. He also didn’t come running after me as I slowly made my way to the second floor. I needed a map and Agatha had plenty of spares.

  Her office was technically empty, but the desk was overflowing with papers and clutter. I pushed aside the unfolded, marked-up maps that gave off the slight vibration of Agatha’s energy. The new maps were at the bottom of the pile. I snagged a fresh one before heading down to the main floor.

  Scrying wasn’t even close to my specialty, but I wanted to give it a try. After two physical attacks, I’d never forget the feel of that Hand energy. It was worth seeing if I could pinpoint the warlock who was driving the puppets.

  All I wanted from downstairs was coffee and food that could pass for breakfast. Toast. Pizza rolls. Whatever filled the gnawing hole in my stomach.

  Instead, I hit a wall of bodyguards. A Servant and Shield were posted on either side of the bottom of the stairway—both big burly guys. I could only tell which was which because the Servant wore a suit and didn’t breathe. The Shield was a variation on Wynn—raggedy hair, stubble, a T-shirt, and gauntlets. Neither made a peep as I walked past to bump into two more of their friends. And then two more. They were posted every few steps along the hallway. Two at door into the house kitchen and two at the back door.

  Their gazes swung straight to me and stuck. My shoulders tensed and I hunched forward, wishing I could turn invisible to stop the stares. Having a million and one guards was ominous enough without them following me with their eyes. I hadn’t forgotten that a warlock wanted me dead.

  I tried to pretend everything was normal as I fumbled with the coffee pot, but my bandaged hands were yet another reminder I didn’t need. My back tingled as if the warlock was standing right behind me, breathing down the stretched-out neck of my T-shirt.

  With a mug between my bandaged paws, I headed to check out the shop. The shop kitchen gleamed—both clean and echoingly empty with no one here to work. The store…

  I was wincing before the door was open. Sam worked a broom, pushing shards into the massive pile of crushed glass in the middle of the shop. Another pair of shop girls worked together, one holding a garbage bag while the other pitched in all of yesterday’s ruined baked goods. It hurt my heart as they tossed a three-tiered beauty into the trash, hours and hours of gum paste flowers wasted.

  But happiness cakes were a lot less effective when the frosting was dusted with powdered glass.

  With all the windows and cold cases shattered, it could take weeks to reopen Agatha’s. I wanted to curl into a ball and cry until everything was repaired.

  As little time as I’d spent here, it was becoming my home. It wasn’t perfect, but the shop was my dream. Every time I stepped inside and smelled the mix of sugar and sparkling magic, my soul sang.

  Now the shop had the same burnt hair smell that was stuck to Wynn’s clothes.

  “Anise?” Sam stopped pushing her broom. “Are you okay?” She wore jeans and a T-shirt instead of the uniform dress, and the same sadness that weighed down my chest was bright in the tears in the corners of her eyes.

  “Mostly fine.” I waved my gauzy hands. “Was anyone else hurt?”

  “He yanked Jasmine so hard her shoulder popped out of joint, but she texted me this morning to say she’s fine. Just sore. None of the customers were hurt.” She gripped the broom handle tight. “That was…”

  “Horrible?” The word didn’t seem strong enough. Apocalyptic, maybe? This shop gave people so much magic, seeing it wrecked was like watching a meteor wipe out Disney.

  Sam shook herself, tapping into that positive energy that defined her magic. “We’ll clean up. It won’t be long until Agatha’s is running like normal again.”

  “I wish I could help.” I curled the unbandaged tips of my fingers into half-fists—the most I could
manage.

  “No way. Rest. Be safe. That…thing was definitely after you.” Sam shuddered.

  All I could do was nod. My horror was tapped out. And now that I had a good look at the wreckage, I was positive—all the Servants and Shields in town wouldn’t be able to keep me safe.

  Not when a ward-breaking warlock wanted me in a coffin.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It took longer to pack all the bodyguards into the van that the Wus sent for me than it did to drive down the street to their house. Passing through their wards actually sent me spinning this time, and Wynn had to half drag me upstairs to the guest room. He gripped my upper arm too tight and held his breath like he was hauling a bag of ripe diapers.

  We’re getting along so well.

  I’d expected the room to continue the house’s all-white theme, but it was cozy with a bright, quilted comforter and a soft blue rug covering the hard marble. Wynn dumped me and I was glad to see him disappear, heading downstairs.

  While I collapsed on the bed, Servants fussed around. One set out a tray of cookies at the table in the corner and another unpacked my bag into the dresser. I wouldn’t have let them mess with my stuff, but I was too tired to stop them and one was already sorting the dirty clothes into a hamper.

  If the Servants did my laundry, I’d seriously ask if the Wu family would adopt me.

  After they left me in silence, I considered crawling under the comforter and passing out again, but if I did that now, I’d be doing that every day for who knew how long. I was tucked behind the beefiest wards in town, but being on house arrest had even less appeal at a funeral parlor.

  Eventually, I picked myself up and headed to find Peggy. Poking around the necromancer den sounded like the worst idea ever, so I bypassed the hallway of closed doors and headed downstairs. Beyond the marble foyer, the house opened into a huge living room/kitchen space. The living room was sunk down two steps and Wynn was already camped out on one of the plush leather sofas, eyes closed with his bare feet sticking out in the air. Making himself at home, as usual.