Deadly Sweet Read online

  Ms. Wu leaned against the big kitchen island—also marble—sipping a tiny cappuccino as she flipped through a newspaper. The house’s minimalist theme continued with bare countertops and only a few brush-stroke prints hanging on the walls, but it didn’t feel close to empty.

  There were too many Servants.

  They stood posted at the windows and doors, with one next to a houseplant for some reason. There were men and women, all tall and athletic. None of them breathed.

  None of them blinked. They just stared at me.

  My blood roared loud in my ears in the silence broken only by rustling newsprint.

  “Anise?” Peggy looked up from her paper. “How are your hands?”

  “Fine.” I held them semi awkwardly in front of myself. “Or getting better, at least. Thanks for letting me stay.”

  She waved a dismissive hand. “You’ll stay as long as you need.”

  “Am I allowed to leave?” If not, I’d be spending a whole lot of time digging through her kitchen cabinets and baking. I hoped she had springform pans hidden somewhere.

  “I hadn’t planned to keep you locked up.” Peggy tapped a thoughtful finger against her chin. “If you’d like, you can attend classes as usual. I’ll supply you with a force of guards.”

  “Would that be safe?” I didn’t want to risk another attack—although if Hands could run around cracking wards, I wasn’t that safe here, either.

  “You can’t wander town, but the campus is warded against most types of violence.”

  I lifted a brow. My experience said different.

  “Obviously poison is one of the exceptions.” She nodded in acknowledgment. “It’s your decision.”

  I chewed the inside of my cheek in thought. I had Stats in the morning, then a few hours gap between my baking lab and Comp. I didn’t care about the math, but if I missed another baking lab, it would be like letting Stef win.

  Plus, what kind of bonehead warlock would reveal themselves a campus that had to be fifty percent witch? “I think I’ll go. Thank you.”

  She inclined her head. “Rest today. The healer will check on you again this afternoon.” She reached for her newspaper, then paused. “Have you contacted your mother?”

  Good thing I had or else I’d feel super guilty. “I told her the basics.”

  “She’ll be worried.” Peggy gave a satisfied nod. “But remind her you’re in my care.”

  Warmth flushed my cheeks, pushing back the glowing cloud of doubt and danger that had been following me around since I came to Taos. She said you’re in my care, but I could hear the meaning those words. She was ready to treat me—and protect me—like her own daughter. I’d never expected to find that kind of warmth outside my own blood family.

  “Thank you.” My voice wobbled as my eyes turned suspiciously glassy.

  I retreated to my bedroom, cautiously optimistic about returning to class. I doubted the warlock could or would try to pull off a physical attack on campus. The anti-violence spell had to be why they’d gone for poison, and I wasn’t stupid enough to fall for that twice.

  All I had to do was prepare for the worst and stick close to my guards. I’d already tapped out a few more of my enchanted earrings and was running out of ones that would do me any good in an attack. If I was going back out into the world, I wanted some extra insurance.

  I typed in Sylvia’s number and sent her a message. Hi, Sylvia. This is Anise Wise. My mom gave me your number. I’m going back to school tomorrow, but I was hoping you could help me with a protective charm if you have time. If not, that’s okay.

  It took her a while to respond, and I jolted out of a doze when my phone vibrated.

  Come to my shop in the morning. I’ll lend whatever power I can to keep you safe.

  My heart swelled again. It meant more than I could ever express that she and the other women of the Syndicate were so willing to fight for me.

  This warlock really should’ve checked out the women in my corner before she made me her target.

  Channeling Wynn, I slept the day and night away. When I woke in the morning, I felt much less like my body had been tenderized by a frying pan. No one sent me news how the warlock hunt was going, but no one warned me against going to class either, so I got dressed to head to Sylvia’s.

  Dressed in clean clothes. The Servants really had done my laundry.

  When I popped into the kitchen to grab a glass of orange juice, my socks skidded on the marble. Ten Servants stood in two rows of five. They bowed in unison like I was some kind of mafia boss. “Mistress.”

  Their echoing voices sent a wave of shivers down my spine. “I’m not anyone’s mistress.”

  Unblinking, they stared back at me.

  They watched as I downed my juice and followed me to the foyer to watch me put on my shoes. It took twice as long to tie my sneakers with their undead attention focused on me. They were nothing like Blair’s close Servants who walked around in sweats and bantered with her—these looked like hired muscle, wearing dark suits and flat expressions. I fully expected each of them to pull out mirrored sunglasses and earpieces when we stepped outside.

  Had I really signed myself up for this?

  Yup.

  And I’d better start getting used to the attention because the Servants were going to stick to me like caramel. When I detoured to the powder room to pee before leaving, one of the women tried to follow me inside.

  “Um. Could you give me some privacy?”

  “If you insist.” Her lips pressed together in disapproval. She stepped back just enough that I could close the door—and not a breath more.

  Behind the closed door, I breathed in and out to stop myself from hyperventilating. I was all for being guarded because I wanted to be safe, but the guards themselves creeped me right out. Being surrounded by all those watchful eyes. Unblinking, undead eyes that never looked away. It was too much attention.

  Constant attention.

  I washed my hands for a solid five minutes before working up the courage to head outside. Wynn appeared as the Servants were shepherding me into the sixteen-passenger van. He climbed into the passenger seat without a good morning to me or anyone else. But that was a normal morning for Wynn.

  I cleared my throat and pitched my voice to the driver. “I need to stop at the soap store. I have an appointment with Sylvia.”

  The driver pulled out his phone and sent a few texts before giving a curt nod. “It’s allowed.”

  Wynn folded his arms, telegraphing disapproval.

  I lifted my voice, speaking to the whole van, but mostly to him. “I’m just getting some extra protective magic.” That seemed like exactly the kind of thing a bodyguard should approve of.

  Either Wynn had decided to ignore me full-time, or he’d already closed his eyes because he didn’t respond. As long as he didn’t stop me, he could ignore all he wanted.

  It only took a few seconds to reach the herb shop. All eleven of my bodyguards filed out of the van to escort me down the walkway. Sylvia’s shop was one of the fairytale cottages on Warwick Street. I let out a heavy breath when five of the Servants posted up at the door while Wynn and the other half followed me inside.

  The pueblo building smelled divine. Dried sage was the strongest scent, but a million other smells wafted from the herbs hanging from the rafters and the shelves packed with jars and pouches and candles. A few racks of souvenir stuff like pins and T-shirts stood in the middle of the floor, but beyond that, the place was a practitioners’ dream. I gravitated toward a shelf of quartz crystals that hummed with energy. Tiny symbols had been carved into the wood of the shelf, and I couldn’t read the enchantment, but I’d guess it was to keep tourists from buying anything that was actually magic.

  “Good morning.” Sylvia swept through the curtain behind the counter. Eight a.m. and she was already bright-eyed, wearing a long linen dress with her dark hair neatly braided.

  “Morning.” I felt shabby in comparison in my jean shorts and the zip-up Fondant had
shredded.

  “Are you well?” Sylvia moved close enough to cup hands around my face. She didn’t touch the skin, but let her fingertips hover an inch away. Her silvery power washed over me as cool and clear as a mountain lake.

  “Better than before. Thanks for seeing me.”

  “Anything for Nora’s daughter,” she said as she moved her own hands over me—still not touching. “We’re lucky the Hand didn’t get hold of you, but I can sense its energy… Relax for a moment.”

  A shudder rocked me. How could I relax if I was carrying around warlock mojo without knowing?

  When Sylvia’s fingertips hovered over my head, power tingled against my scalp. The feeling sank deeper as she moved, knocking away the last of my exhaustion. When she stepped back, I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but I felt lighter than I had in weeks.

  “Wow.” My voice echoed strangely like my ears had been scrubbed out, too.

  She smiled warmly. “Come here.” She pushed aside a wheeled rack of witchy magnets, revealing the ring of silver sunk into the floor. A hint of old wax stained the floorboards around the circle. “Inside you go.”

  I stepped in without complaint. We hadn’t done a greeting, and I didn’t really know Sylvia, but when a witch’s power felt this pure and healing, it was obvious her intentions were good.

  “Take this.” Sylvia handed me a bundle of roots and did a lap of the store, picking out more herbs. When my hands were full, she set a stone bowl inside the circle. “Drop them in. Then clear your mind and light the fire.”

  I followed her instructions, although it took a second to relax my brain. After a few deep breaths in and out, I could feel the fire inside me. With a flick of my thumb and forefinger, I summoned orangey sparks into the bowl.

  Smoke curled.

  Sylvia lit a bundle of dried sage from the flame, then stepped outside the circle. She paced around me in even steps, waving the sage and speaking a soft incantation in Spanish. Even though I couldn’t understand much, her power didn’t need translating. My skin glowed silver as her protective blessing settled in, warm and comforting. It felt I’d nestled into clean sheets, all safe and cozy. Only the sage smoke and scent of burning herbs reminded me I still stood in her shop.

  Magic glowed brighter when Sylvia made the second lap. The pace of her words sped and a second layer of protection surrounded me like a suit of gleaming armor. The third lap strengthened the spell until it felt like her power covered me like a solid shield.

  Finally, Sylvia placed the sage into the burning cauldron. She crossed herself and said one last prayer. When her last word faded, I was left shaking.

  The warmth of her power—

  Like sisterhood. Like love and acceptance. All of it settled into my skin along with the outer shield of protection, which I doubted a crossbow bolt could pierce. Tears pricked my eyes. “I don’t even know you.”

  “Anise.” Sylvia set a hand on my shoulder and there was no power in the gesture, but it was magic just the same. “All the women in your family have been dear to me. You will be dear to me. And you belong to us now.”

  “Thank you.” I rubbed my eyes with my sleeve, totally overwhelmed.

  “We’ll be watching over you.” She took the burning bowl and disappeared behind the cloth curtain. It took a few seconds before my feet would move.

  When the Spellwork Syndicate had your back, they really had your back.

  I just hoped I never found out what it was like being on the opposite end of their power.

  My optimism tanked as soon as I entered my stats classroom. Every student turned to gape at me and my entourage, tripling the amount of attention leveled on my shoulders. When I sank down into a seat in the back corner, the people in the three closest seats packed up and moved to the front row. It was stupid, but all the staring grated on me more than the danger.

  A warlock, I could fight. Stares, I had to tolerate.

  I hustled out at the end of class, but I could only go so fast with my guards bottlenecking the hallway. We clogged up the foot traffic on campus on our way to the lab basement.

  Stef Oates glared as soon as I passed through the doorway. “No way. Why are you here?”

  “For class?” As much as being guarded so closely put me on edge, it was worth it if I could work on my baking skills.

  Her lip curled at my still-bandaged hands. “You can observe if you kick the undead into the hallway, but you’re not baking today. You missed the lecture.”

  “I thought…” What? That she’d cut me a break? That clearly wasn’t happening. Stef didn’t let me finish, whirling off to help another student.

  I turned to the closest Servant. “Can you guys wait in the hall?”

  “We can’t leave you in danger.” A frown moved her otherwise still face.

  “Wynn will stay.” And I felt totally comfortable speaking for him at this point. We both knew he wasn’t going anywhere. “You can screen everyone coming in. There’s too many of you to fit in the room, anyway.” The tiny basement room was already packed like one of those subway cars in Tokyo.

  Reluctantly, the Servants moved back into the hall. Wynn hovered at my shoulder while I leaned against a stainless-steel table in the back. Actual cakes were on the syllabus and all I could do was watch. I would’ve sat on my hands, but there were no stools in the room and it would sting the cuts. Instead, I craned my neck back and forth trying to watch all the workstations at once. Wynn leaned against the wall and folded his arms. There was too much clanging in the kitchen for me to be sure, but I was pretty sure his breathing leveled off as he dozed or tranced or whatever he did.

  At the end of the session, Instructor Oates deigned to let me rejoin the class for tasting. She sliced a piece from each cake and set them on paper plates while we gathered around her table. They were basic cakes—chocolate and vanilla with no frills or decorations—but it was super obvious that not everyone in class was on the same level. One cake hadn’t cooled enough and frosting ran off onto its cardboard circle. Another cake had a sunken middle. Even the one she highlighted as best in class was a little lopsided.

  After Stef sliced up all the pieces for us, I was even more irritated. One cake tasted salty, and more than one was way too sweet. My skills might not be up to Agatha’s crazy standard yet, but I could do better than this. I was doing better than this every morning at prep, but Stef still treated me like the rawest kitchen newbie. What did I have to do to impress the woman? Or at least earn the barest slice of her respect? I didn’t need her to like me, but she was seriously dropping the ball on her teaching duties and that, I took seriously. I wanted to learn and improve, but I couldn’t if all she ever did was blow me off.

  While everyone packed up their leftover cakes to take home, Stef crooked a finger at me. Wynn followed close at my back, which was odd when he’d slept the whole lesson. Was he reading Stef as a threat?

  She folded her arms across her coat and fixed me with an expression so sour her lips twisted. Her lime green eyes bored into me with an intensity that forced me to glance away. “You owe me a make-up cake if you want to pass this class.”

  Great. Our last make-up session had gone so well.

  “That’s fine. Any cake? Or do you want a specific recipe?”

  “The lesson was two-step mixing.” Stef yanked a sheet of paper from her class binder. “I want to see this done before lecture on Monday or I’m failing you for the class.”

  I gripped the paper a little too hard, scalloping its edge with frustrated fingertips. Stef had to know I’d been moved out of the bakery, and it wasn’t like I could move around freely. I’d have to wheel and deal—and possibly avoid a warlock—to bake the cake and get it in front of her before then. But the more hate she poured on me, the more I wanted to show her how good I really was. “I’ll do my best.”

  Even if she tried to set me up to fail, I wasn’t going down without a fight.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I’d thought I was being stared at before,
but the cafeteria taught me what real stares felt like. Right after noon, the rows of round tables were packed. I hunched down, trying to ignore the crowds as I grabbed a tray from the food line. Technically, most of the attention was for my undead entourage, but the curious gazes inevitably found me in the middle of the protection detail. After so many years trying to be invisible and unremarkable, my compass for self-preservation spun in wild circles. I had to remind myself that guarded was the new safe. And you’d better get used to it.

  I’d hoped Wynn would eat lunch with me in solidarity, but he kept his place slightly in front of the Servants. I grabbed pizza, French fries, a chocolate pudding cup, and a non-diet soda. Until the warlock was caught, I wasn’t eating anything healthy.

  After paying, I stood looking for an empty spot in the sea of tables.

  “Here, Mistress.” One of the Servants gestured to the back of the room.

  A big group of students was just standing up from the table with their empty trays. One of the Servants hustled to snipe the spot before anyone else could move in. All I wanted was to sit down. Possibly under the table?

  I took the seat and dug into my food, which was way more delicious than expected. The pizza had big blobs of fresh mozzarella and I zoned out as I tried to find the perfect bite with an ideal cheese to sauce and basil ratio.

  When a chair creaked on the other side of the table, I jumped in my seat.

  Seth?

  He looked delicious in chef whites. They fit snug to his chest, but not too snug. Just perfect. It wasn’t a man in uniform thing so much as a Seth in uniform thing. He wore his dark hair pushed back, with a pencil stuck behind his ear. It looked so mouthwatering, I dabbed a napkin to my chin just in case.

  He had a slice of pizza, a soda, and a white bakery box of something he must’ve just baked. My curiosity won out over the knee-shaking fear that I’d make a fool of myself talking to him.

  “What did you make?” I asked, impressed when my voice came out even instead of dolphin-pitched.