I was in the kitchen, washing down the main worktable and wishing Iris didn’t have her metalsmithing class on Monday mornings. On this Monday, at least, we could have really used her help. Still, we’d made a few adjustments—switching simple molasses cookies in for the daily special instead of the more labor- and time-intensive chocolate croissants. Ben had stepped in to do some KP when he wasn’t needed at the register. Plus, the spacey feeling I got after practicing big magic came with a boost of extra energy.
But that was wearing thin as I wiped my hands on a towel and quickly ran through my mental task list, checking things off.
We’re in good shape.
My stomach chose that moment to grumble loudly, and my thoughts shot to the fresh loaves of sourdough cooling on racks. Maybe just a nice, plain piece of buttered toast . . .
A small noise drew my attention to Mungo, who was sitting patiently in the half-open door of the office. Waiting for his own seriously late breakfast.
“Oh, gosh, little guy. I’m sorry!”
I quickly scrambled an egg and toasted three slices of still-warm bread. One of them I split with my familiar, along with the egg. It didn’t take either of us very long to plow through the makeshift meal. The other two pieces of toast I slathered with spicy peach jam made by a local farmer and took out to Lucy and Ben.
As I handed over their snacks, Lucy handed me a cup of steaming liquid. I inhaled the strong herbal aroma.
“Rosemary?”
She nodded. “And peppermint and turmeric. Good for the nerves and grounding.” She looked at me knowingly. “Which I bet you could still use.”
I smiled gratefully and took a healthy swig.
“I talked to Mimsey a few minutes ago,” Lucy said. “She said you have an appointment with Bing Hawkins at WMBK at eleven o’clock.”
“Wow. That was fast.”
My aunt smiled. “You know how much influence Mimsey Carmichael has in this town.”
“Lucky us,” I said. “I’ll call Jaida and see if she’s free to go with me.”
She was, and agreed to drive. I hung up as the bell over the front door sounded.
Declan came in with two of his buddies from Five House, Scott and Randy. Scott was older and certainly the wiser of the two. Randy was a habitual flirt, though he kept it low-key with me, presumably because of Declan. The chiseled planes of his face always made me think of my father, and I felt sure he boasted Native American blood.
“Hey, guys,” I said. My heart warmed to see Declan’s eyes light up as soon as he saw me. At the same time, I felt a crack in my tough-girl act—an act I had apparently even fooled myself with.
“Hey, Katie,” Scott said, heading straight for the pastry case with Randy right behind him. “You still have those Parmesan scones I like?”
Ben hurried over and got the guys their regular treats and poured them some coffee. Soon the three men were chatting about all things firefighter at a table in the corner.
I pasted on a cheerful smile as Declan strode behind the register where I stood. “Missed you this morning.” His muscular arms wrapped around me, and instantly I felt that depth of safety I knew nowhere else. In his enthusiasm, he lifted me right off the ground.
“Deck, I’m at work,” I mumbled halfheartedly into his shoulder.
He set me down. “Sorry,” he began but stopped when he saw me wince. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” I said.
Lucy chimed in. “If chasing off a burglar in the dark and nearly getting taken out by a giant Dumpster is nothing.”
“What?” Affection turned to alarm on Declan’s face.
I sighed and looked around the bakery. Ben was still occupying the other firemen, though Randy was watching Declan and me while trying to look like he wasn’t. Then Scott caught my eye by accident and looked away quickly, but not before I saw the beginning of a grin tug at his lips.
What’s that all about?
“Katie?” Declan was impatiently waiting for more information.
I gave Lucy a thanks-a-lot look, even though she didn’t really deserve it. It wasn’t like I wouldn’t have told my boyfriend about what had happened that morning. She knew that, of course, and merely gave me a cheerful grin in return.
“Come over here.” I grabbed Declan’s hand and led him over to the empty reading area. Other than his friends and a couple with their teenage son by the front window, the only other customer was our resident writer, Arthur, lost in his own fictional world fueled by dark-roast coffee and protected by noise-blocking headphones.
Mungo surreptitiously padded out of the kitchen behind us, a small black wraith that none of the customers seemed to notice. He settled into his bed on the bottom bookshelf as we sat down on the sofa, where I filled Declan in on the details of my earlier adventure.
When I was done, he frowned. “You promised you wouldn’t get hurt.”
“I promised to try.” I poked at the bundle of gauze on my knee, undecided about whether I should tell him magic had saved me from being crushed by the Dumpster.
He started to say something, then hesitated, looking away. “Oh, Katie,” he finally said, and met my eyes. He gave a little nod and squared his shoulders.
As if he just made a decision of some kind.
“What?” I asked, feeling my eyes narrow.
But he only smiled. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” He eyed the elaborate bandage. “You are okay?”
I bit my lip and nodded. “It looks worse than it really is.”
“Hmm. Okay, so someone was trying to break into Croft’s,” he said. “Does it have something to do with the murder?”
I shrugged. “Could be a regular ol’ attempted burglary.”
He gave me a look. “Right. Everyone knows what cash cows bookstores are.”
“He did have a very good night on Saturday.” I grimaced. “As far as sales go, I mean.”
“I don’t suppose you’d reconsider letting Quinn handle this one on his own, would you?”
Down at floor level, Mungo made a noise in the back of his throat.
I looked at him, then back at my boyfriend. Declan had my best interests in mind. I knew that. But it still kind of surprised me that he didn’t know me better than that.
Or maybe he did.
“In about an hour, Jaida and I are going to the radio station where Dr. Dana recorded her call-in program. We’re going to have a little chat with the station manager.”
He took a deep breath, then: “I see.”
“Deck, please don’t worry.”
“Sure. No problem.” A bit of sarcasm leaked through, though. “Listen, the reason I stopped by was to ask you not to make any plans for tonight. I have a very special supper planned for us.”
“‘Very special,’ huh.” I grinned.
“Seriously. Don’t go hying off after some clue tonight. This is impor—” He stopped himself. “I just want to know I can count on you being there.”
“Of course,” I said, surprised. “I’ll be home right after work. And I’ll grab something for dessert.”
A single nod. “Okay. Good.” And then a smile, almost as an afterthought. “I can’t wait, darlin’.” His intensity fell away as he leaned in and gave me a big smack on the lips. “I’ll see you then.”
“What are you up to?” I asked.
“You’ll see.” He rose and walked back to his friends.
I raised my eyebrows at Mungo, but if a dog could shrug, he did.
The three firefighters left together. As they went out the door, Scott gave me a conspiratorial look over his shoulder.
Baffled, I returned to where Ben and Lucy stood behind the espresso counter.
“Did you see that?” I asked.
“See what?” Ben responded.
“Never mind.” Probably just my imagination.
* * *
Jaida showed up at the bakery a few minutes before eleven. Her blazer over a long-sleeved white T-shirt made me think it wasn’t a court day for her, and her brightly painted toenails peeking out of open-toed shoes beneath her dark slacks confirmed it.
“Thanks for making time to go with me,” I said.
“Sure. Gregory can handle things at the office for a couple of hours.” She was referring to her partner—both in love and in lawyering. He was also a witch, but he preferred to practice solitary.
In the office, Mungo hunkered down in my tote bag to stay out of sight as I carried him through the kitchen. On the way, I paused.
“Are you sure you and Ben will be all right? I could see if Jaida can go with me after Iris comes in this afternoon.”
My aunt gave me a gentle smile. “We’ll be fine, honey. You go ahead and see what you can find out from that radio station manager.”
“Sure we will!” Ben chimed in from behind the register. “Just be careful not to let that Bing Hawkins talk you into buying airtime. He’s a wily salesman.”
“You know him?” I asked.
He nodded. “From the Rotary Club.”
I grinned. “I’ll try to resist.”
“Hope you do more than try,” he muttered as I walked away.
Jaida and I went out to Broughton Street. Mungo peeked his head out, eager for his next adventure. The sun felt warm on my shoulders. Lucy had planted sweet William, nicotiana, and autumn clematis in the yard-square wooden box on the sidewalk in front of the Honeybee, and their heady fragrances curled together in the crisp fall air.
As we passed by the Fox and Hound, I saw the sign in the window said OPEN, and the interior lights were on. Flames in the gas fireplace flickered. Breathing a sigh of relief, I said, “Good to see things are getting back to normal.”
Jaida nodded. “Poor Croft. All he wanted was for a celebrity to sign her book in his store, and he ends up in the news and out of business for a day. At least it was only for a day.”
“Not to mention that someone tried to break into his store this morning,” I said, and went on to tell her the rest of what had happened.
“You did that thing where you glow?” she asked when I’d finished.
“Uh-huh. Just for a few seconds.”
She laughed. “I bet you scared the pants off that burglar.”
I snorted. “I hadn’t even thought of that.”
Halfway down the block, we reached her dark blue minivan. Given Jaida’s tendency for inserting a bit of underlying rebel into her lawyerly ensembles, whether a dash of color or a piece of unexpected jewelry, most people would have expected her to drive something more exciting. But then again, when you have little ones . . .
Not that Anubis was little in any literal sense. The Great Dane leaned his giant square head out of the back window and gave a low-throated woof. Mungo yipped in response.
Old-home week for the familiars.
Once inside, Mungo scrambled out of my tote and joined the big brindle beast in the backseat. I looked around to see them touching noses, both descended from wolves though one weighed a hundred and fifty pounds and the other a tenth of that. Anubis settled onto the seat and Mungo tucked in between his front paws. I couldn’t help smiling.
Jaida steered the minivan down Broad Street and turned onto Victory Drive. Blake Shelton crooned on the radio, and the breeze that winged through the open windows smelled faintly of burning leaves and ripe apples.
“I had no idea you liked country music,” I said.
“I don’t, but Anubis won’t listen to anything else.”
Surprised, I looked back to see him grinning his agreement. Mungo seemed to be enjoying himself as well.
“Yeah, well, mine thinks heaven is spending the day surrounded by snacks and binge watching Days of Our Lives.”
Yip!
I suddenly wondered whether he’d watched soap operas when he lived with Angie.
Stop it.
But apparently I wasn’t the only one thinking along those lines. When we were stopped at a red light, Jaida turned to me. “I’ve been thinking. About how I’d feel if I were in your same situation.” Her eyes flicked to the backseat, and I understood she was referring to having my familiar’s ex-witch show up out of the blue.
A quick glance over my shoulder assured me she wasn’t fooling either of the pups, who were watching us with wise wolf eyes.
One side of my mouth pulled up. “And?”
She glanced in the rearview mirror and saw what I had. “Oh. Well, I’d be torn about helping her. Like you, I guess.”
“Do you think witches have a special responsibility to be moral?” I asked.
She pursed her lips and flipped on her turn signal. “Because we have power, you mean?”
I nodded.
“Well, yes. Of course. But then again, everyone has power—more than most people realize. Don’t you think?”
I nodded again.
“So, of course witches need to wield their power with an eye to morality. Or, in the parlance of a lightwitch like you, with an eye to the good. But so does everyone else. So while witches certainly have a responsibility, I don’t think it’s exactly special.” She glanced over at me. “Not that I don’t think you’re special.”
That made me laugh. “Actually, I like the idea of being just like everyone else. It’s comforting.” Especially for someone who had spent her first twenty-eight years feeling like she didn’t fit in anywhere.