Chapter Seven

When my alarm blared at 2:45 in the flapjacking morning, I considered a mutiny. Groaning and groggy, I swung my feet out of bed. Too late, I realized I should’ve set my clothes out last night. I couldn’t find anything in the rumpled mess of my dresser. Somehow, I managed to put myself in an outfit and ooze down the stairs to the kitchen.

Agatha leaned against the marble island in a white jacket and purple apron. She flicked through an ancient, tattered spellbook. That perked me up faster than a gallon of black coffee. I moved to stand across from her, leaning close as I tried to catch a peek. Other women filled in, all wearing the same chef whites and purple aprons.

I clutched at my ratty T-shirt, suddenly wide awake. I couldn’t stand out more if I balanced pie on my head.

Agatha jerked her head toward the doorway. “Check the hallway, cupcake.”

Confused, I walked out of the kitchen. A giant box took up all the space on the teeny hallway table. Was this what she meant? I pried open the flaps and gaped.

A new jacket, checkered pants, and a fresh purple apron were folded on top of a shiny pair of nonslip shoes to replace the ones I’d mourned about losing to Darcy’s car. I stepped into the half bath to change and couldn’t resist a spin for the mirror. Everything fit perfect. Not too baggy, not too tight. I felt like I was glowing when I stepped back into the hall. There were more clothes in the box, including one of the frilly black dress uniforms that the shop girls wore, but Agatha’s voice sounded through the kitchen door, so I didn’t have time to dig.

“…your work assignments.” Agatha handed sticky notes to each of the four women. I joined them at the island, feeling a lot less awkward now that I looked like a worker instead of someone more likely to be found digging through their dumpster. Agatha slid me a handwritten note of my own. I snatched up it to see what amazing things I’d get to bake this morning.

All I had was a prep list. Peel ten pounds peaches, longevity tart - Jaya. Chop two pounds walnuts, wish cookies - Stef. The list went on and on with things I needed to get ready and I guessed who I needed to give them to.

The person actually doing the baking.

My prep list had wrinkled in my fist. I smoothed it out on the marble and swallowed down a boiling blob of pride. Work your way up.

“Let’s rock.” Agatha brandished a whisk and whirled off. Like their movements were choreographed, the rest of the women headed straight to what must be their normal work stations. I would’ve expected a flurry of activity—clanging and whirring mixers—but instead, a hushed silence fell.

The room’s energy spiked. Jaya stood closest to me, head bowed. As she took a few deep breaths, the blue haze of her magic glowed beneath her skin. It was as subtle, like her bronzer had a hint of blue in it, but the power was unmistakable. The other women didn’t necessarily glow, but their magic was so present it felt like way more than six of us were moving around the kitchen.

More than a little intimidated, I hurried into the pantry to haul out my peaches. Ten pounds weren’t going to peel themselves. When I hauled the finished product over to Jaya in a heavy pot, she frowned over the rim.

“Did you look at the charts before you started this?”

“Charts?” I wiped sticky fingers on my apron.

“Here.” She led me into the closet-sized break room next to the pantry. It had two chairs, a microwave, a coffee pot, and walls so plastered in lists and sheets of arcane symbols that it looked like witchcraft wallpaper. “You’ll have to check the walls until you have this all memorized, but it’s important even if you’re only prepping. What were you thinking while you peeled the peaches?”

That I hate peeling peaches. I swallowed. “Nothing?”

“There are suggested mantras depending on the spell type.” Jaya tapped a list pinned up near the light switch. “But it’s usually better to come up with your own. Do some reading before you start whatever’s next on your list.”

So…

Jaya was gently telling me that I couldn’t even peel a peach without screwing it up.

I stood staring guiltily at the walls after she’d left. There wasn’t time to read through the room if I was going to finish the other tasks on my list, but I took a lap and tried to absorb the most important tips.

I’d known to consider the moon phase in my baking, I just rarely made anything so complicated or powerful that it mattered. Now my brain shorted out at the millions of other recipe factors I’d never thought of. The date and season. The constellations. My age, where I was in my cycle, and where the other ladies in the kitchen were in their cycles, which, why would I ever have asked?

But I didn’t have to ask. The charts tracked everything from our periods—and apparently I had to write mine in—to which saints and deities favored which types of spells, and the potion dilution rates we needed to respect to keep from getting shut down by the state of New Mexico. More than one drop of love potion per cupcake and we’d have the health inspector all over our asses.

It made sense why Agatha’s was considered the best. I hadn’t realized her standard extended to peeling the fruit and the other grunt work. But every ingredient was part of the recipe and I needed to learn to prep them right if I wanted to earn a place for myself.

The suggested mantras weren’t going to work. For a wish-fulfillment enchantment, I was supposed to chant wish over and over again. It was too utilitarian. I needed something that helped me imagine what the person eating the final wishing cookie would feel and experience.

After I weighed out walnuts from the sack in the pantry, I took a few breaths and focused on the enchantment instead of the fact that I had to do the chopping. Dream come true would be a much better incantation.

I thought a variation of the phrase the whole time I chopped. When I scooped the last of them into a bowl, I let out a tired breath. It was hard to stay focused on the one thing without letting my mind wander, but I thought I’d done a pretty good job.

There were two women in the shop I hadn’t met yet, but luckily they wore name tags. I sneaked a peek. The round-faced older lady who looked jolly as a Campbell’s soup kid grandma was Carol. Which meant the thirty-something blonde was Stef.

She had her back to the rest of us while she worked at her station in the corner. I set the bowl of walnuts on her table.

Stef jolted like I’d slapped her. “What the hell?”

“Sorry.” I took a reflexive step backward. “The walnuts. I chopped—”

“Ugh.” She slapped the bowl away without a look.

My heart fell down into my stomach. “I can do it again.”

“Don’t bother.” Her face puckered. As her gaze flicked over me, the scorn was so hot it seared. She had the greenest eyes I’d ever seen—so green they had to be colored contacts—and between the color and her expression I felt like I was about to be on the receiving end of one poisonous curse.

I clutched my arms to my coat and retreated to my station.

Was I that bad?

Self-doubt had my energy slumping, but when I delivered toasted almonds to Carol, she smiled and patted my shoulder. So maybe I wasn’t totally irredeemable? Agatha didn’t say a word to me all morning, but I took that as a positive. At the rate I was going, she’d be more likely to hand me a plane ticket than a compliment.

The four hours flashed by in a whirlwind of flour.

At the end of my shift, I slumped like a wrung-out dishcloth.

I didn’t know if I could ever learn it all, but I was damn sure going to try.

I crashed into my pillow and slept for what felt like ten seconds before my alarm had another seizure. I smacked it before forcing myself to hop up. Sleep deprivation couldn’t keep me from meeting Gabi. I didn’t know a single witch my age, and if our moms had been friends, maybe we could be, too.

Plus, college. After my morning on the front lines, it was glaringly obvious how behind the other witches I was, and even if I’d disappointed Agatha, I couldn’t make myself consider baking class a punishment.

I was so excited to register that I tried on every outfit that Fondant hadn’t shredded, just to make sure I looked like a college student. It was still too hot for jeans, so I ended up in a pair of gray capris with my Strawberry Shortcake T-shirt and a thin zip-up tied around my waist. College kids always had shirts tied around their waists.

Twenty minutes before I was supposed to meet Gabi, I realized I didn’t have a ride to campus. Was there a bus?

A quick search told me the Taos public transportation system wasn’t going to work. I’d be better off walking to campus, but I would’ve had to leave forty-five minutes ago.

Did I dare disturb Agatha to ask for a ride? I was creeping down the steps, trying to figure out what to do when I found Lonnie climbing up.

“Good morning again, dear. I was just coming to get you.” She wore a flowing fruit-print dress, and her smile was as warm as apple crisp.

“Morning. I was hoping I could find a ride. I’m supposed to register today.”

“No need.” She dangled a set of keys with the logo of an electric car company. An expensive one. Like I could buy my own vanilla plantation expensive. “Your car’s in the garage. Feel free to take it whenever you like.”

She handed over the keys and I cupped them like I’d hold a newborn kitten.

Not Fondant’s kitten, but still. “You’re giving me a car?”

“Would you rather take the scooter? You have that key too.”

“No, that’s not…” I took a breath. If I kept talking, she’d probably give me the keys for the yacht. I assumed they had a yacht. “Thank you.”

“Have fun. And don’t be afraid to give me a ring if you run into trouble.” She finger-waved and headed back downstairs, leaving me gaping in a cloud of apple-scented perfume.

A car. For me. Am I this lucky?

I had to see.

I sprinted down the stairs, passing Lonnie on the way. Except I wasn’t sure how to get to the garage without going through the shop. A bit of poking around and I found a second kitchen—a smaller, homier one, with a breakfast nook, although I’d never seen a home with black and purple tiles and vases of fresh black roses.

It was Agatha-homey.

With zero appetite for breakfast, I cut through the back door, booking it for the garage detached from the house. The garage door was lowered, but after fiddling through my new keys I found one that would open the side door.

Three cars were parked inside. The SUV that Lonnie had picked me up in, a metallic purple sports car that screamed Agatha, and a sparkling lavender sedan. When I clicked the keys, the lavender one chirped and its headlights flickered.

I had the key halfway to the lock when a presence appeared at my side. Expecting an ax murderer, I jumped three feet sideways, keys dropping from my terrified fingertips.

Wynn snatched the keys from the air.

“What are you doing?” I pressed a hand to my panic-thumping chest and tried to back away, but I bumped Agatha’s car.

Wynn’s eyes glittered in the dim garage. He was taller than I’d thought, and broader across the shoulders now that he was standing instead of sleeping in my kitchen. Shaggy hair covered most of his face, but I could still see his tight-pressed lips. I’d never seen a glower in real life before, but that was what he was doing. Glowering. I moved deeper into the garage, trying to put space between us, but I didn’t want him pinning me to the wall.

Wynn folded his arms. “Where you go, I go.”

But why? It wasn’t like I couldn’t drive myself. “If you’d give me back my keys…” I reached, but he was already opening the driver’s door. He slammed it behind him.

I doubted I could drag him out of the seat, and I was already running late. We’d have to argue on the drive.

I started to move around the car to the passenger’s side, but Wynn rolled down his window.

“Sit in back.”

“Why can’t I—”

And he was already rolling the window up. I’d been wondering what his deal was, but it was slowly coming together. He clearly didn’t want to babysit me any more than I wanted to be babysat. Maybe we could work something out?

I slid into the back seat on the passenger’s side. He opened the garage and took us out.

“I need to go to campus to—”

“I know.” He cut me off yet again.

Jamming my buckle into place, I tried to glare at him, but he never checked the rearview mirror. “You really don’t need to drive me.” Instead of responding, Wynn flicked the turn signal at the end of the driveway. I bit down. This was getting annoying fast. “I’m serious. I can go alone.”

“You can’t.”

I gripped the seatbelt so hard I started to choke. What is this guy’s malfunction? Just to make sure he wasn’t driving me to some abandoned killing lot, I double checked my maps. At least the little dot for our car was moving toward campus. Being chauffeured—especially by Wynn—wasn’t my favorite, but I could deal with it for one morning. Then Agatha and I had to have a talk because Wynn obviously wasn’t going to have a conversation.

As I watched the buildings fly past, butterfly-flutters of excitement built in my belly. When we pulled into the campus lot, I barely waited for Wynn to park before hopping out and speed-walking away. When I peeked over my shoulder, he was already following—not so close that it looked like we were together, but close enough that I could nail him with a snowball. Too bad it was summer.

But as long as he kept his distance, I wouldn’t let myself get too worked up. Tomorrow, I’d be rid of him.

My steps sped the closer I moved to the quad. Well, the “quad.” It was more of a triangle on the teeny campus. Three big adobe buildings surrounded a courtyard that only had tiny patches of grass. A fountain ringed by benches took up most of the space.

Big or small, it was a college campus, and I was a student.

A pastry student. I wouldn’t care if TCC was a one-room schoolhouse with one of those old-timey firewood stoves.

Enough people were milling around that I couldn’t spot Gabi right away. The skin at the back of my neck crawled with a spark of recognition every time I passed a witch. Almost every other person had magic.

A guy in skinny jeans brushed past me balancing his phone and latte, and the tell-tale tingle slipped down my back. I’d never seen a male witch in real life. Men were less likely to carry magic than women, and they didn’t usually pass their abilities down to their children, so they were sort of rare. But sensing around, I thought I spotted a few more magical dudes milling on the quad. It made them seem way more common than they were.

I’d never been around so many witches in general. With the drone of the vortex always at the back of my mind, the whole campus hummed with power.

I peered around, trying to find Gabi without looking like I was looking for someone. I should text her to make sure she was still coming. Then I caught sight of the bench near the tiny campus pond.

A girl sat with one arm raised. A row of birds perched along her forearm to chirp at her. When she trilled whistles, they whistled back. More birds fluttered down to land on the bench, crowding around her, and a bluebird landed in her tight, dark curls.

“You know better than that.” She plucked it off and set it next to the other birds on her arm. The bluebird spread its wings…in a bow?

Mom hadn’t said what kind of magic Gabi practiced, but if her parents owned the cryptid clinic, then an animal affinity made a whole lot of sense. I moved quietly, not wanting to scare off the birds. “Gabi?”

“Anise?” She smiled like a Disney Princess, her full lips parting, and the force of her personality warming me like a cozy sunbeam. “Shoo now.” Gabi swung her arm, sending the birds into flight. She brushed off her sundress before skipping over. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“Did I interrupt?”

“No. I was just saying hi to the locals.” She shaded her eyes to look into the trees, where most of her birds had landed. “Someone’s not keeping their feeders filled. I have to figure out who to ask about it.”

“You can talk to them?” An affinity for animals was one thing, but talking to them? That was a whole ‘nother level.

“Not like that. I can mostly understand through magic, but I can’t speak bird and they can’t speak human. It really is nice to meet you, though.” She extended her palms. I stuck out my hands to mirror her. As soon as we were both in place, our magic flared.

Her power was cool, green, and sparkling, like an early morning walk through the fairy forest. It wasn’t plant green, though. I picked up flecks of brown like deer crashing through the woods at the edge of my vision. Definitely an animal affinity.

Gabi’s stomach rumbled. “Your magic. Now I’m craving a croissant.”

“Really?” You never knew how anyone else read your energy, and I’d never had much chance to ask. Mom never wanted to talk about it.

“Your power feels like pink sugar. Or tapping a spoon through the crust on a really good crème brûlée. But there’s a redder, bready vibe to it, and—” Her stomach rumbled again. “I shouldn’t have skipped breakfast.”

“I’ll bring donuts next time.” I should’ve thought to grab something for us, but I’d been too excited to get out of the house.

She patted her stomach. “I definitely have to visit you at the bakery. We always get our birthday cakes from Agatha, but Dad’s diabetic so we try not to have too many sweets around.”

“Agatha’s been making a ton of sugar-free things. There are these cute little rainbow meringue puffs, and the dark chocolate truffles, and—” My voice choked off. Gabi doesn’t care about the menu, dimwit. “Um. I tend to ramble about desserts?”

Gabi’s laugh was so bright the witch we were passing lifted a hand to shade his eyes. “Better sweets than vet stuff. I spent all morning trying to force a familiar into a cone of shame.” She rolled up the long sleeve of her cardigan to flash a set of angry claw scrapes.

“Are all familiars like that?” I lifted the sleeve of the zip-up still tied around my waist. “Agatha’s said hello by ripping through my suitcase.”

“Fondant?” Her voice lifted a notch in horror.

“Yeah.” I smoothed down the sleeve.

Gabi slipped off the strap of her sundress to show the scar tissue lumped over her dark skin. “She jumped on my shoulder last time I tried to give her a shot. Clawed through my shirt and wouldn’t let go. I wouldn’t even call that thing a cat.” She pulled her dress back into place.

I shuddered in sympathy. “Maybe she’s rabid.”

“She definitely isn’t vaccinated.” Gabi started walking again, leading me the last few steps to the quad’s main building. The doors were propped open, letting a steady line of people pass in and out. The hall had a plastic smell that reminded me of high school—mostly that last day, running away—but Taos Community College didn’t feel like the same universe. A girl stepped past us wearing glowing silver pentagram earrings, with a thin white snake curled around her neck. I tried not to gape as it flicked its tongue at us, but the more I looked around, the more my eyes widened. A redhead reading tarot cards on the rim of the fountain. A guy not-so-stealthily slipping potion bottles into his friends’ pockets.

All in the open. Not that witchcraft was forbidden most places, but we could never just be.

Or could we?

Gabi led us into the long line that threaded through the admin building’s main hallway. Smaller lines broke off, heading into individual classrooms where letter ranges were posted to the doors. Aa to Ch, Ci to Do, all the way through the alphabet. Gabi split off at the S line. “Meet you back at the bench?”

“Okay.” I kept pushing until I found the W’s. It took a solid half-hour of waiting before I made it to the front. All the while, I kept wondering why we couldn’t avoid the mess and register online.

Finally, the woman at the table waved me up. She took the paperwork I’d brought along and assigned me to the classes I’d need for the first semester of the baking and pastry program. At least she emailed the final version instead of printing a paper copy.

On the way out, I stared at my phone in deep disappointment. Only two lab classes—Baking I and Food Prep. The rest of my hours were pre-reqs like composition and statistics. I could see comp, because maybe I’d write a cake blog someday, but statistics?

Miserable. I was still frowning at my phone screen when I stepped through the doorway.

And bumped straight into Wynn.

He was glowering again, with long pieces of hair falling over his cheeks and forehead. Something in the way he stood, tight with impatience, told me he wanted an apology for making him wait.

But who’d asked him to be here? Not me.

I might actually have told him that, but then I caught sight of the guy behind Wynn and all thoughts of my stupid bodyguard faded like baking soda tossed into the wind.

The guy wore jeans and a plain black T-shirt. Tattoos of runes and arcane symbols spread down muscular arms, but he was lean and swimmer thin, with gorgeously thick dark hair, and eyes a piercing royal blue.

My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I’d gobble him up like chocolate mousse.

Except I didn’t have the guts to talk to him, and Wynn stepped between us. Shouldn’t he be napping in the car? Unless he was registering, which I seriously hoped wasn’t the case, there was no need for another body clogging the hallway. I craned around him, trying to catch one last sight of my dream guy, but Wynn stepped even closer, backing me against the wall.

“Stop.” I lifted my hands, and Wynn froze, but he was still so close I couldn’t breathe without smelling him. He should smell like a tree or man cologne or whatever, but instead I caught a distinct whiff of lavender. I’d wonder about it if he weren’t already making me claustrophobic. “Can’t you just go?” Home? Wherever that was? “I don’t need a bodyguard with me to register for classes. Or at all.”

His eyes flicked to the ceiling as if he was praying for patience.

Heat steamed the back of my neck. Why would Wynn be frustrated? Shouldn’t I be the one frustrated?

I stomped past him, knowing he’d follow, but at least if he was behind me I could pretend he wasn’t there. I really needed to talk to Agatha.

My mood 180-ed as soon as I spotted Gabi on the quad. She stood and waved. For once I didn’t have to peek around to double-check she wasn’t waving at someone else, and my heart poofed up like I’d stuck it in the proofing oven.

A girl my age who I could talk to about evil familiars. Wasn’t that the basis of all friendship?

“You didn’t wait long, did you?” I asked.

“Nope.” She shook her head, making her curls sway. “I was just texting Blair. Do you want to meet us at the bookstore later? We’ve both been working so much this summer we haven’t seen each other, and I know she wants to meet you, too.”

Bookstore? I’d totally found my people. “Can I bring snacks?”

“Anise. You can always bring snacks.”

“What time?” And could I ditch Wynn before that? Because he definitely wasn’t invited.

“This afternoon. I’ll message you?”

“That would be amazing.” My smile couldn’t be stopped—it was so broad my cheek muscles stung. We chatted the whole way to the parking lot with me beaming like a lighthouse. We came to my car first and I moved to the driver’s side to wave her goodbye. “See you later?”

“See you!” She wound through the cars. I clapped a hand to my face, but my lips stayed turned up anyway.

A friend. Praise the gods and goddesses.

I felt Wynn at my shoulder the second Gabi disappeared around a minivan. My smile melted like chocolate on the pavement.

“Move.”

I had to tilt my head back to glare at him. Wynn almost managed a flat expression, but the tiniest twitch moved in his cheek, mostly hidden by his shaggy hair.

He was irritated? At me? “Do you have to be this rude?”

No answer.

Of course not.

He was already holding the keys, so I slipped into the back seat without bothering to say anything else. I’d have to flat out ignore the guy until I figured out how to get rid of him.

Agatha and Lonnie were nowhere to be found when we got back to the house, so I couldn’t ask about Wynn, but thankfully, he disappeared right after we pulled into the garage. Instead of falling in to bed, I spent the afternoon baking cookies. Agatha would probably blow a gauge if I tried to work in the big kitchen, so I used the tiny black and purple one in the house instead. She shouldn’t mind me baking as long as I didn’t put her name on anything, but even if she didn’t think my baking was “at the level” yet, I didn’t need her permission to make snacks for my friends.

Or potential friends.

I couldn’t decide between peanut butter or chocolate malt oatmeal cookies, so I made both, stirring a little friendship magic into each dough. As always, I dropped in a teensy pinch of anise. As much as I wanted Blair and Gabi to like the cookies, I wanted them to like me more.

The bookstore was just down the street, so walking meant saving myself another annoying car ride. Wynn followed. I didn’t have the energy to glare at him. Holding the tray of cookies level required too much concentration when my palms were sweating waterfalls. I hadn’t hung out with a group since…sophomore year? But those girls hadn’t really been friends. How could they be when I had to keep the biggest part of myself a secret?

I tried to distract myself by checking out the other buildings on Warwick Street. The flat-roofed pueblo was an herb shop with bundles of dried peppers and flowers hanging outside. Next to that, a teensy cottage had its double-doors swung open, advertising enchanted soaps. A different smell hit me every step. Fresh rosemary. Sensual jasmine. The slightly bitter tinge of brewing potion.

I would’ve kept staring like a tourist, except I almost bumped into a pack of them. The family was too busy snapping selfies to notice me until the dad stomped my foot.

“Pardon.” He started to lift his phone for a picture. Then his cheek scrunched up to his eye as he took in my outfit. Ratty jean shorts and T-shirt, carrying a plastic-wrapped tray. Definitely not the exhibit he wanted on his visit to the witch zoo.

His wife tugged his arm, pulling him away. After a few more steps, I glanced back. They’d surrounded Wynn and were trying to pose their two kids with him. If I actually looked at Wynn instead of complaining about him, I could see why.

Wynn’s build drew eyes. He was one of those guys who was so broad and toned, you almost had to look at him. He was in a T-shirt and jeans, too, but his were fitted and not dusted with flour. If not for the leather gauntlets, he could’ve passed as a local bodybuilder. The hard leather covered in metal wrapped his wrists and forearms, making him look like a confused historical reenactor.

Because who wore gauntlets in the middle of town? In eighty degrees?

The little boy was tugging at Wynn’s boot laces and Wynn’s face was so red, he looked ready to toss the kid. I set down my cookies and backtracked to tap the man on the shoulder. “Can I take a picture for you?”

“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 pulled 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.