It was the end of a very long day, and my cell phone buzzed as I waited for the elevator. I accepted the call once I saw it was from The Tasty Tart. That was the name of one of my besties’ places of business. The other was Hair Now, Gone Tomorrow.
“Evie!” Maribella called my name breathlessly into the phone’s receiver.
She was always breathless, in a rush, and doing ten things at once. But that was why I loved the plush blonde woman. She was one of my very best friends in the entire world.
The other was Donatella. Both were witches, just like me. Together, we made up the town’s witch trifecta, responsible for safeguarding our beloved birthplace, Castor’s Corner.
Maribella was an excellent chef and the owner and operator of The Tasty Tart, so named after one drunken night of shenanigans following her graduation from online business school. Donatella ran the town’s one and only beauty salon. As for myself, I was mayor of this city of supernatural creatures in southern New Jersey.
“What’s up, Bella?” I asked, tapping my foot as I waited for the elevator to slowly open.
City Hall was old as the town itself, but we didn’t have the funds to renovate the brick building that had been sitting in the town’s square for over a hundred and fifty years. If we did suddenly come into any money, the elevator would be the first thing I’d replace.
It was one of those really old ones with a gate and everything. Hardly up to modern safety standards, but oh well. At least the thing still ran.
I growled and pressed the button urgently, hoping to make it move faster. Magic was useless inside City Hall. I could no more change the tide than I could get the damn thing to move any faster. I just needed to learn to wait.
Huffing out a breath, I crossed my arms, closed my eyes, and refocused on whatever Bella was saying. She tended to ramble instead of getting straight to the point. In case it was not obvious, patience was not my strong suit.
“Evie, are you even listening to me?” Bella snapped.
“Sorry, Bella, you are cutting out,” I said, lying through my teeth.
“Oh, hush up. I know you better than you think,” she replied. “Anyway, listen up, I think I might have found the right spell to take the calories off my Double Devil’s Food Delights,” she said, and began explaining what she’d discovered.
Just hearing the name made my mouth water. When it came to baked goods, Maribella was the master. Her hella good treats were to die for. Literally.
One time before Easter, the crowd had gotten so rowdy over her Chocolate Bunny Supreme cupcakes that a bloody fight had started. It took the sheriff and his only deputy to break it up. Of course. Deputy Charles had been fairly old, and the exertion caused the sloth Shifter to have a coronary.
Poor guy. The funeral had been a sad affair. But Bella provided coffee and muffins free of charge after the service. Anyway, she had been working on a spell to reduce caloric intake on her goods and I sure as fuck would not say no to that. Who didn’t want guilt free goodies?
“All I have to do…” Bella continued excitedly.
While she was talking, I was reminded of a wise nugget the next Baba Yaga, aka the great Shifter Wanker, aka Zelda, had once imparted to me during a Swoosh call.
In case you don’t know, Swoosh is the magical equivalent to Zoom. The magically enhanced app makes it easier for witches to chat via computer, tablet, or cell phone face to face without fear of blowing anything up.
Electricity and magic were not always friends. In fact, they downright hated each other. Don’t ask em why. Certain things just are what they are.
Anyway, Zelda had said, in a stunning display of wisdom, that the point of something being so damn good, or in this case tasty, was that there was a cost. The remarkably astute redheaded witch didn’t mean money. In this case, I knew exactly what she was alluding to.
Love handles.
That was the cost of Maribella’s killer Double Devil’s Food Delights. The little bite sized chocolate cake-cookie sandwiches with homemade buttercream and other fillings inside were sublime.
People had been maimed getting to them on Sundays and holidays. There was even a write up about the bakery being worse than an ogre biker bar. That was after the town’s last Samhain Festival. An incident occurred when two big cat Shifters had started a brawl over her last Peanut Butter Delight.
“Sounds great, Bella,” I replied, wanting to be supportive.
“It is, right?”
“But how do you know it worked?” I asked, suspicions roused.
Part of being a witch meant you could not use your magic for your own benefit. Maribella was keenly aware of this, which was why she never tried her own experiments.
Fool me once, I thought darkly.
“Well, I don’t,” she replied. “Not for sure. That’s why I wanted you to try them out,” she whispered that last part.
“Uh uh. No way,” I said immediately.
“Come on! I’ll bring them to the field tonight after we finish strengthening the wards.”
“Bella, I will not be your guinea pig,” I warned.
Not after the last time, I reminded myself. Even though the urge to eat anything the baking queen whipped up was strong, I was not about to try another of the witch’s crazy spells.
Last time I bit into one of her magicked goodies expecting sweet heaven, all I got was slimy sludge. The memory of which caused my overactive gag reflex to spur into action.
Gross.
“Ohmygawd! Evie, stop exaggerating,” she growled.
“Not. Sorry. Gotta---”
It took a few more dry heaves for the memory to fade and my gag reflex to stop. Whatever Bella’s intentions, I think Zelda was right. Some things came with a price. Sweets were one of them.
If that price was love handles, so be it. I was willing to pay it. The only thing I resented was not having a lover to hold on to my more than ample handles.
Sad sigh.
Witch metabolism was supposed to be super-duper fast, but for some reason, the three of us seemed to be shit out of luck with that one. Maybe it was our predominantly Italian genes and affinity for carbs that made my best friends and I the exception to that rule.
I had no way of knowing. Normally, I didn’t care. I was happy with my body. It was society who wasn’t. Imagining all those normals who had one clearly defined version of beauty made me shudder with pity.
They would never see the world the way supernatural folk did. Never find pleasure or delight in purple skies, green skinned trolls, or orange scaled mermaids. There was so much wonder and magic in the universe. So much diversity to discover and explore. So much of life to cherish.
Yes, my friends and I liked to look good. We wanted to be beautiful. Who didn’t? But being plus sized did not mean ugly. I knew that. And so did Donny and Bella.
This little project, trying to find a way to create calorie free carbs, was not about us being unhappy with ourselves. It was mainly a fun exercise in magic. It took all kinds to make this universe go round, and there was nothing wrong with curves.
Of course, curvy did not begin to describe Maribella, Donatella, and myself. Hungry might be a better word for us. My friends and I were that, indeed. But we weren't just hungry for yummy food goodness, we were hungry for love.
After leaving City Hall, I went to run an errand before meeting the witch trifecta at our usual spot. My mind was on so many things that night. On Bella’s treats, the town’s need for new firefighters, Sheriff Davies wanting to retire, and of course, the ever present parking problem.
Sigh.
Looking back on it now, maybe that was why our spell went wrong.
Or maybe it was because Donatella tried to dye her midnight black hair a shockingly light shade of purple.
Or perhaps it was because of Maribella burning the caramel filling for her delectable dulce de leche donuts.
Any of those things could have caused the town’s upcoming troubles. Or maybe it wasn’t us at all. Maybe the stars had aligned or misaligned. Sometimes things just happened.
All I knew was that what should have been our regular monthly bonfire and spellcasting ritual had somehow turned into a clusterfuck of epic proportions. The result was the same regardless of how I looked at it.
We fucked up.
That was how I ended up staring at three sexier than ever Shifters in the middle of my woods. Seems the trio had pulled into town driving a monster SUV that coincidentally broke down, playing country music of all things, and asking if they’d made it to Maccon City.
"No,” I answered, angrier than my Nonna after she’d caught me with a spoon in her Sunday sauce. “You're in Castor's Corner. I'm Evelyn Castor, mayor and pissed off citizen."