Deadly Sweet Read online

  “You wouldn’t mind?” He handed over his cell phone. “The kids have never seen a sorcerer before.”

  I choked back a laugh. Wynn? A sorcerer? “Happy to help.”

  The family arranged themselves in formation around Wynn, who towered over them with a legendary scowl, but I knew he wasn’t going to escape as long as I was still here. After I took a few snaps for the tourists, I still had enough pettiness left to pull out my phone and get a shot of my own. Maybe I could use it for blackmail somehow.

  After thanking me, the dad and his family meandered down the sidewalk to the herb shop. Wynn’s gaze boiled against my skin as I picked my cookies up from the grass.

  “What was that?” His low, deadly voice sounded right behind me.

  My shoulders tightened against the shiver rolling down my neck. Wynn was super pissed. I kept my voice bright, knowing it would make him that much angrier. “Just a picture.”

  “Don’t ever stop me from doing my job.”

  “I didn’t.” I’d have to be in danger for that, and a cute little family who wanted to take pictures with witches and sorcerers weren’t going to do me any harm.

  He didn’t say anything else, so I started walking.

  The bookstore sat in the corner of a little plaza packed with restaurants and people. I’d have to walk back one morning when it wasn’t so hot or crowded. The green spaces and shop displays looked like they might be cute, but with sweat sticking my T-shirt to my back and my face feeling as red as an heirloom tomato, all I wanted was to be in some AC.

  The shop door pinged. I stopped just inside, closing my eyes and holding the tray out from my body to let the sweet, sweet air-conditioning cool me off. Even after a little walk, I was panting. This altitude was no joke.

  “Anise?” A guy’s voice.

  I jolted. Someone had been watching?

  He stood behind the counter, wearing a teal plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Collar unbuttoned. Black hair gelled back like he was headed to a fashion shoot, and the cleanest complexion I’d ever seen on a guy. I swallowed. He was prettier than me. “Hi?”

  “I’m Bradley. Blair’s brother?”

  “Brother?” Witches didn’t often have sons—especially such good-looking ones. They could, but daughters were the norm and male witches tended to be one-offs instead of part of a lineage. I leaned a little closer, trying to scope out his energy. Bradley didn’t give me the little jolt that would’ve marked him a full witch, but his energy was too strong for him to be totally non-magical. Curious.

  “We’re twins.” Bradley lifted his hands, acknowledging the weirdness. “Blair got the necromancy, I got the bookstore and enough magic for party tricks. Not a bad deal.”

  “Definitely not.” I’d pick bookstore over death magic any day. And this bookstore…

  The floor-to ceiling shelves called to me with glossy spines. Whoever curated their collection knew their witch books. Harry Potter. The Chronicles of Chrestomanci. Hex Hall. Prospero’s War. The Brooklyn Brujas. Basically every story I’d ever loved. Practically drooling, I edged over to the cookbook section, where Mary Berry’s newest baking bible had its own display.

  Fed up with my dawdling, Wynn pushed past me with a glare so nasty I almost dropped my cookies. He veered straight for the couch in the children’s section and assumed his normal position, kicking up his feet and covering his face. I would’ve clapped a hand over my open mouth if not for the tray.

  He was going to nap here? In public?

  “Dude.” Bradley shook his head at the rudeness. “No boots on the couch.”

  Wynn’s feet thunked to the floor.

  “Sorry.” It wasn’t my job to apologize for Wynn. But it kind of was. “He’s supposed to be my bodyguard.” But how was he going to save my life while he was sleeping? And what was he protecting me from? Kitchen knives?

  Right. Nothing. Wynn was protecting me from nothing.

  “Sure.” Bradley nodded like bodyguards were as normal as book stacks. “But you’re safe as long as Blair’s here. She has her Servants.”

  Servants? Icy fingers crawled up my back. Like…undead Servants? Blair was a necromancer, but I wasn’t mentally prepared for zombies. Or physically prepared. Those things had to stink.

  I stepped deeper into the shop, but didn’t smell anything dead or undead—just ink and paper and a whiff of Bradley’s fresh-scented cologne. The place must’ve been a converted house because it was all tiny rooms and hallways, jammed with bookshelves. Anything could be hiding around the corners.

  Bradley motioned me behind the counter, opening the door to a narrow stairway. “She and Gabi are up with the spellbooks. No civilians allowed.”

  “Thanks.” I stepped past him, letting out a grateful breath when Wynn didn’t follow. Embarrassing me in front of Blair’s cute brother was one thing. I didn’t need Wynn mucking up my one first impression with Blair.

  The steps groaned, and I braced a hand against the wall as I climbed. At the top, I stopped to gape again. Upstairs was just as packed as down, but instead of shiny new volumes of fiction, every shelf bowed with battered magic books, their spines packed with runes and magic symbols. It smelled like old leather bindings and yellowed paper. The scent burrowed into my nose and made me want to sneeze in a good way.

  The layout was just as confusing as downstairs, too. Lots of little rooms and book nooks. I peered into the closest one, looking for signs of life and resisting the urge to grab a book and plop into a Victorian armchair.

  “Over here.”

  I jumped, jumbling the cookie tray. A woman waved from around the corner. She wore sweatpants and one of those stretch athletic tank-tops, but with graying hair and crow’s feet, she definitely wasn’t Blair. She disappeared back into the maze and I could either follow or stand around until my cookies went stale. After turning a few corners, she took a post at a doorway next to a second woman in sweats.

  Both of them wore gun holsters. With guns. That couldn’t be right. “I was looking for Blair and Gabi…” Now I was wondering if I should slowly back away.

  “Anise?” The floorboards creaked and Gabi popped into the doorway, beaming. “You came!”

  “I brought cookies?” I held out the tray as a peace offering for the gun ladies, but they didn’t move an inch. Or a millimeter. Not even to breathe.

  These were Blair’s Servants? Both wore ponytails and sweats. The one who’d called out was older, but the dark-haired younger one had damp hair and smelled like that powder-fresh deodorant. Like they’d both been at the gym more recently than the morgue.

  “Come in.” Gabi waved me into the room.

  I stepped through the threshold. Their nook had clearly been a bedroom once. Now the walls were solid bookshelves, except for the closet, where someone had installed a mini kitchenette with a countertop, sink, and even a fridge/microwave. Two squishy blue couches and a coffee table piled with books and snacks were angled in the middle of the room.

  I was so impressed I didn’t notice Blair until her magic brushed my skin—dark and warm like molten fudge. She gazed at me unblinking with black hair and blacker eyes. I almost flinched away, but her attention felt more curious than cold.

  “Blair.” Gabi clicked her tongue against her teeth. “She’s a friend.”

  “Our moms are friends. That doesn’t mean we’ll be.” Blair tilted her head to the side.

  I wanted to say something cool and witty that would win her over, but my brain was as hollow as an unfilled eclair. All I could do was hold out the cookie tray. “You guys hungry?”

  A mental wince probably had me smiling like a weirdo. I sounded like their moms.

  “Here. Set them down.” Gabi pushed away a stack of books and two opened bags of chips. The more I saw, the more I wanted them to like me. The fantasy hit me hard—smiling and laughing, sharing chips and sodas, reading books…

  Except in real life, I was still standing with an awkward grin on my face. I hurried around the couch and p
ulled the plastic off the cookies. “There’s peanut butter and chocolate oatmeal.”

  “No raisins?” Blair arched a thin eyebrow.

  “No raisins.” I wouldn’t do that to someone I’d just met.

  Blair broke a cookie in half and squinted at its middle. “What’s the enchantment?”

  “Um.” I could feel the pink spots popping up on my cheeks, so I looked down, pretending to brush crumbs off the coffee table. This was going to sound ridiculous. “To encourage friendship?”

  “That’s sweet.” Gabi reached for an oatmeal, and I dared to look up.

  Blair nibbled one, then nodded. “Not bad. Not as good as Hayley’s, but not bad.”

  “Hayley?” I fixed on the name instead of the disappointment coiling cold in my belly.

  “Agatha’s old apprentice.” Blair chewed another bite.

  “Does she have her own shop now?” It couldn’t be a magic bakery or I’d know about it, but maybe the girl was starting a catering business or working at a fancy restaurant in Paris. I’d expect her to be that good if she’d survived years of Agatha training.

  Gabi set her cookie on a napkin and did her own fake crumb-brushing. “She disappeared a few weeks ago.”

  “Disappeared, my asscheek,” Blair said. “That was a kidnapping.”

  “A…what?” Ice cubes of dread slipped down my throat.

  “The Syndicate’s been looking into it,” Gabi said.

  Blair rolled her eyes. “Yeah. But if they can’t find her, who could?”

  Head spinning, I set down my cookie. “Can we go back? What happened?” This seemed like a detail Agatha should’ve mentioned. Or Lonnie. Or any of the other bakery ladies.

  Blair shrugged. “Hayley worked for Agatha through high school, so we always saw her around. Total baking nut. She could be a bitch, but she always apologized with rejects from the shop.”

  “We liked her.” Gabi drooped, shoulders sagging.

  “And she disappeared? How?”

  “She was taking classes at night. Everyone said she left Agatha’s, but never made it to campus. Never made it home, either. The Syndicate never found her car and they even let the cops run a manhunt, but nothing.”

  I opened my mouth. Closed it.

  That poor girl.

  And also. Why would no one tell me this?

  I shivered like a skeleton gripped the back of my neck. “But who would’ve kidnapped her?”

  Blair shrugged. “Sometimes suicidal crazies roll into town looking to prove witchcraft is evil, and sometimes greedy crazies think they can steal our magic to fuel their own power. They mostly get arrested or cursed, but people try often enough that it’s smart to have protection. All the young witches whose families own shops have some kind of bodyguard or protector, but Hayley wasn’t going to inherit so nobody would’ve expected her to be targeted.”

  So kidnapping was normal? And kind of expected?

  It explained Wynn, and I’d met Blair’s bodyguards, but… I turned to Gabi. “Where are your guards?”

  “Mine?” Gabi blinked. “Why would I—? Oh, because my family owns the cryptid clinic? We’re more charity than business. Nobody after money would come for me.”

  “You could make bank if you gave tours,” Blair said.

  Gabi let out a strangled laugh. “The griffin would love that. So many mortals to snack on.”

  Griffin? I almost got distracted, but not even a mythological creature was enough to let this subject slide. “So, you think Hayley was kidnapped for money?” It sounded maybe possible, but if she hadn’t been ransomed… “Why someone from the bakery though? There have to be so many richer witches in town.”

  “You’re related to Agatha.” Blair turned a quizzical look my way.

  “Yeah?” I answered, not sure where she was going with this.

  “Now that you’re in town, you’re most likely to inherit,” Blair spoke slowly, spelling it out for me. “That makes you and me the richest witches in town.”

  “No way. What about the jeweler?” I’d passed their shop on the way here. Line around the block and diamonds cost way more than donuts.

  “You mean the jewelry shop Agatha owns?” Blair answered.

  “But my nana—” I shut my mouth. I kept forgetting because I’d just learned the truth. It had been Nana’s jewelry shop. The one Mom would’ve taken over. Obviously, it had passed to Agatha instead.

  But how did Agatha own half of Taos when Mom and I were scraping for rent? Had Nana really written us out of her will?

  I couldn’t believe it.

  “I keep hoping Hayley ran away.” Gabi toyed with the hem of her skirt. “Or she’ll show up again, saying it was a joke.”

  “Is that likely?” Disappearing for months at a time wasn’t funny, especially now that I’d taken Hayley’s spot. If the girl really was a baking nut, I couldn’t believe she’d walk away from Agatha’s.

  “Probably not, but it’s all suspicious as hell, and the Syndicate has the rest of us on lockdown until they figure out what happened.” Blair glared at the doorway. “I can’t even pee without a Servant following me to the bathroom.”

  “Aren’t they your Servants?” It seemed like they should at least take her directions?

  “My power keeps some of them animated,” Blair said, “but my mom’s the one in charge. Any time she asks for a hand, those traitors will rip a whole arm out of socket.”

  “We can hear you.” The younger dead woman called through the open door.

  “Eavesdroppers.” Blair shook her head.

  I chewed thoughtfully on a cookie while the two of them shared more theories, but I didn’t have much to say. As the afternoon passed, I was mostly lost in my thoughts. I was a lot more worried about Hayley than myself. Hopefully, she was okay, wherever she was and if she did come back, Agatha wouldn’t boot me.

  When it was time to leave, Gabi promised she’d text again. Blair didn’t say goodbye, but her glare had softened, and both of them had eaten at least four of my cookies, so I hoped I’d won them over a little.

  Downstairs, Bradley was busy helping tourists, so I slipped past him to head back into the heat. Wynn was up before my hand touched the door, the reaction so fast he had to be trancing instead of sleeping.

  This time, I wasn’t as annoyed to have Wynn following at my back.

  In this town, having a bodyguard might not be the craziest thing.

  Chapter Eight

  My first class wasn’t for a few more days, so I spent as much time in the kitchen as Agatha let me, mostly chopping, peeling, measuring, and washing. My hands were chapped pink from all the dishes, but I didn’t feel like I was the only one doing the grunt work. Everyone except Agatha helped with clean-up.

  Not that anyone would dare ask her to wipe down a table.

  I’d thought the other four helpers were baking, but after enough peeking at their workstations, I realized the other witches were weighing, filling, or decorating. Agatha made the batters and doughs and did all the spellwork herself. She pressed her lips together in an I-don’t-think-so glare whenever I snuck too close to her spellbook.

  I couldn’t help it. I was dying for a look at her recipes.

  Agatha ignored me for the most part, occasionally stepping in to correct something I’d done wrong, but she didn’t have time to take two breaths in a row with all her responsibilities. Jaya and Carol gave me tips when they had time, but I could never tell if I was annoying Kamala or she pitied me.

  I knew exactly how Stef felt. On my second day, she made me re-chop the walnuts six times. Her face twisted up when she felt their energy, and she knocked tray after tray of nuts into the garbage. “Are you capable of learning? Or are we going to do this every morning?”

  I was messing up, but I couldn’t fix it if she didn’t tell me how or why. But Stef wouldn’t answer my questions, so I was pretty sure she just enjoyed watching me fail. I wasn’t sure what I’d do about that yet, but I couldn’t let it go on forever.

  Wh
en Monday hit, I was beyond ready for a break and some schoolwork. But before heading to campus, I wanted to chat with someone in charge. Agatha was in the zone in the kitchen, humming as she stirred symbols into the cake she was mixing, but I found Lonnie in the office instead. She had a small desk in the corner of Agatha’s big space and sat at her laptop, tapping an apple-print pencil against her lower lip.

  I knocked on the doorframe. “Lonnie?”

  “Do you need something, dear?” She blinked a few times as she turned away from the screen.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask about Wynn.” So many questions.

  “What about him?”

  “Can he stop following me around?”

  “That wouldn’t be smart.” Lonnie tensed just the littlest bit through her shoulders.

  “I heard about Hayley.”

  “Then you understand why you need protecting.”

  No. Not even close. “Why didn’t anyone tell me what happened?” Did they think I wouldn’t have come to Taos? I would’ve, but still. You didn’t forget to tell someone the girl they’d replaced was missing under shady circumstances.

  “We didn’t want to worry you.”

  “But I am worried.” Not telling me the truth would only make my imagination run crazy. Mom had never mentioned that kidnappings being normal, but she had terrified me with plenty of other vortex horror stories. Like the witch who’d died on her wedding night. Her spirit still wandered the streets in a blood-soaked gown, looking for young witches to possess.

  I doubted that one was real, but my brain could go on and on.

  “Wynn will protect you. You’re safe, Anise.” Lonnie set down her pencil as if that was that.

  But she’d stepped right where I had the problem. “Protect me from what?” If there was something else to worry about beyond a vague “girls get kidnapped” I needed to know so I could protect myself.

  “Your new position comes with privileges. With those privileges…” Lonnie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, seeming to buy time while she thought how to word this. “There are certain parties that would like to see you harmed, either for pleasure or profit.”