Death's Hexed Hobnobs Read online

  10

  “I don’t like it either, but it’s the only option we have right now,” January said when Ryan emerged from their bedroom to collect his coffee the next morning.

  He almost turned and walked back into the bedroom.

  “I still can’t believe you think getting in contact with someone who helped Luke become the complete psycho he was – and had no problem taking money for it – is a good idea.” He accepted the cup of coffee, but made it clear he wasn’t accepting the peace offering.

  “All I’m going to do is knock on the guy’s door. You’ve got his address from the payment records. The worst he can do is tell me to go away.”

  Ryan shot her a look. “I bet that’s not the worst he can do.”

  January rolled her eyes. “Well, sure, if you’re going to get technical about it. Just promise me that if an annoyed looking toad turns up at the door some time later today, you won’t squash it.” Ryan looked confused. “You know, because it might be me?” She added.

  She shook her head. Apparently not everyone had read the same books growing up.

  “Full moon meet tonight,” Ryan said. He finished his coffee and grabbed a stack of papers to take to the bar with him.

  “Turning up at a time and a place that everyone in town knows about… if that’s not a recipe for getting killed, I don’t know what is.”

  Ryan shuffled his papers. “You aren’t missing the full moon meet. There’ll be chaos and I’ll have to…”

  “Report me to your bosses?” January raised an eyebrow. “I think I’d rather face the Official Board of Shifters than get my head chopped off by another flying sword.”

  Ryan sighed, like she was being completely unreasonable. “Maybe you could go in disguise,” he said, but couldn’t keep the sarcasm from his voice.

  “You’d better keep your fingers crossed that this witch guy does turn me into something else. It may be my only shot at surviving until the next full moon.”

  Ryan sighed for the second time and moved closer to January. “It will be okay, and I don’t just mean the pack meeting tonight. I mean everything. Somehow, I just know it will be.”

  January paused to think about it and realised she actually felt the same way. Her spark of hope came from the information that Luke had been learning from a powerful ally. She was pinning everything on him being able to tell her the answers to the questions that had haunted her for years. She was hoping he’d be able to turn her into someone who was hard to kill.

  January glanced up at the clock and realised she should really think about getting to work. It was Lucy’s turn to bake the special, which inevitably meant there’d be a run on everything else they were serving.

  Simon jumped up on the counter and gave her a look that January was certain contained enough to fill an entire conversation in cat language.

  “Wish me luck with the wicked witch today,” she said to him.

  He blinked twice in response. Hopefully that meant something like ‘good luck, I’m sure he won’t turn you to dust on sight’, but it could just as easily have meant ‘give me more food, you useless human’.

  “Would you like a slice, January?” Lucy held out a giant platter, filled with generous chunks of what looked like sponge cake. “It’s lemon and white chocolate,” the other waitress prompted with a scarily bright smile.

  January didn’t have to look around her to know that the whole café was watching to see what she did next.

  “Charlie thinks it’s a good idea to do free samples?” January whispered to Lucy, hoping to buy some time to think of a better excuse to wriggle away from the free sample plate. Behind Lucy’s back, she could see Danny by the coffee machine, doubled over with silent laughter.

  “Actually, it’s my birthday! So this is more like my way of celebrating. Everyone should have cake on their birthday!” Lucy batted her eyelashes and January knew she’d just scored the winning point. How could she say no now? She reached out and took a slice, noting that the icing was immaculate as ever. The crumb size also looked good. January was almost tempted to keep looking at it forever and never ruin the illusion of the perfect cake. Unfortunately, Lucy wasn’t going anywhere.

  She took a bite.

  “This is good… this is really good cake!” January said, and she wasn’t lying.

  Something miraculous had happened to Lucy’s cakes. The cardboard taste and texture was gone and the sponge was light and fluffy in her mouth. She took another bite and appreciated the subtle vanilla and white chocolate flavoured icing that so perfectly set off the zest in the sponge.

  Lucy beamed from ear to ear when the rest of the café approached the plate and took their own slices, impressed by January’s genuine reaction.

  As January watched the slices disappear, her happiness for Lucy’s cake success diminished slightly. The cake really was excellent. Lucy was in the final of the baking competition. She and Danny had some competition!

  “That wasn’t faked, was it?” Danny said into January’s ear. She shook her head. “Damn! Why’d she have to get good now?” He said, before covering his mouth with a guilty look.

  “It’s fine, that’s what I thought too,” January confided with a small smile. They really needed to be a bit more sporting. “Did you actually see her making the cake?” She asked, wondering if there was something they were missing.

  “Yes, I did! Unless she’s got some kitchen pixie in her pocket, it was her own work.”

  January momentarily entertained the thought of an actual kitchen pixie before dismissing it. Why was it so hard to believe that Lucy’s baking had improved?

  “I think we should investigate,” Danny said.

  January half-nodded, wondering if a simpler and better idea would be to just ask Lucy what she’d done differently.

  “Two cappuccinos, please!” A couple who’d just come in called to January. She rushed off to start on their order, sinking into the routine of making coffee and cutting cake.

  The enigma of Lucy’s amazing cake would have to wait.

  January double-checked the address she’d scribbled down from the bar’s records and looked up at the house with a frown. This didn’t look like the sort of place where an all-powerful witch who charged a few thousand a month for lessons lived. She glanced up and down the street, that was neither deserted, nor overly busy. It didn’t feel like a trap.

  A glance through the letterbox made her heart sink. There was a huge pile of untouched post on the doormat. She peered through the dusty window and thought it was clear that no one had been here in a long time. Or at least - that was what you were supposed to think. The window fogged when she looked through it and January felt the same tingle she always did when she came face to face with magic.

  Mr T.J. Bennett, magical services. Contact via side door.

  January blinked at the curling script that seemed to fade away as fast as it had appeared.

  “Side door… right,” she said, looking at the end of terrace house. It was hemmed in with a fence that had no gate in it.

  She stood on tiptoe and peered over the fence. Sure enough, there was a side door. I should not have worn tight jeans today! January thought. She waited for a quiet moment on the street and then hauled herself over the top of the fence. Mr Bennett must only want clients who were desperate to do business with him. That, or they all knew how to levitate.

  January fought her way through the wild grass, which had been left to grow for so long it was as high as her head. She wasn’t even certain she was heading towards the side door anymore. Five minutes later, she was still fighting her way through the tiny garden and was starting to realise that this wasn’t your average end of terrace house. I’m not giving up! She thought, crossly reaching inside herself to find that area of something unidentifiable. She pushed out and found the magical resistance that was keeping her going around in circles. It pinged like a broken elastic band when she cut through it.

  Suddenly she was right in front of the side door. />
  After the last trick, she hesitated before pressing the doorbell, wondering if she should use a stick to poke it instead. She shook her head. She didn’t have time for games. She needed to find out exactly what her magic was and how to use it. She needed this Mr Bennett. January pressed the doorbell.

  Nothing happened.

  She could hear the distant chime of the bell ringing, but nothing moved in the house. January made a noise of impatience and pressed it again. The panes of the door fogged up and another message squiggled its way across the glass.

  Sorry you missed me. I’ll be back at some point. Leave a message and I might get back to you.

  January felt like punching through the smug script. ‘I might get back to you’? She needed an answer now! For a second, she considered breaking in and finding out whether or not Mr Bennett was really absent. The hairs on the back of her neck had been telling her she was being watched from the moment she’d walked onto this street, but breaking and entering probably wouldn’t make him more likely to teach her magic. Also, she was willing to bet there were a thousand nasty traps in store for anyone who dared to try and enter the witch’s house uninvited.

  Mr Bennett does like his tricks, she thought, momentarily suspicious. She dismissed the idea as paranoia. It was unlikely that he was the bounty hunter. If he had been, her turning up on his doorstep would have made a pretty perfect opportunity for him to finish the job.

  January pulled the scrap of paper with the address written on it out of her pocket and then realised she didn’t have a pen with her. How was she going to write a message to Mr Bennett? The answer came with a twist in her stomach.

  Magic!

  Here goes nothing, she thought and stared at the paper, willing writing to appear. After thirty seconds of not breathing and getting progressively redder in the face, a mark materialised, and then another! January’s name and telephone number appeared on the page. It looked like a three year old had written it. She worried that Mr Bennett wouldn’t take it seriously, so she hastily added ‘I want to learn magic’ in her terrible magical writing, hoping that would get the message across. As soon as she’d finished, the words faded away and she experienced a moment of panic, before remembering that was what magic writing did. It only appeared again when the person it was intended for tried to read it.

  She stared at the empty house and felt rather deflated. She’d expected to come face to face with a formidable witch, who would have been able to give her some answers right there and then. Now she would have to wait and hope that at some point in the future, he happened to pick up the scrap of paper she’d dropped through the door.

  This experience had definitely brought her back down to earth. Everyone in the supernatural world might know her name, but here was one man who was presumably treating her just the same as he would any other would-be client that came his way.

  January reached the fence again and wondered if she could try and levitate over it. She felt inside for the unknown magical bit of her but all she got back was a resounding no. Apparently it didn’t work like that. She shrugged and launched herself upwards, feeling less like a unicorn and more like a hippo when she rolled over the top and fell back onto the pavement. She probably shouldn’t have had that fourth chunk of Lucy’s cake.

  “Do you think we’re being too paranoid?” January asked Ryan while they walked the perimeter of the clearing that the shifters met in every full moon.

  It wasn’t even dark yet, but January had wanted to get there before anyone had a chance to set traps. She was half-hoping to catch the bounty hunter in the act, but so far, there’d been no sign that anyone else had been to this part of the forest since the last full moon meet.

  Or so she’d thought.

  “Wolves have been through here,” Ryan commented, when they got to the edge of the clearing.

  January frowned. There were signs that a whole pack of them had run by - and not long ago. She’d expressly forbidden their meeting in large numbers!

  “I’m not being unreasonable by saying they have to stay in the main pack, or move away and form their own, am I?” She queried.

  Ryan shook his head. “Trust me, you’re doing everything right. Some people just can’t play by the rules.”

  January bit her lip, dreading the inevitable future conflict. In the past, the Witchwood wolves had been the pack, and all of the other shifters had gone their own way, and everyone had minded their own business.

  January hadn’t wanted to lead a pack of mismatched shifters. She’d tried to suggest they disband after Luke had been beaten, but many members of Luke’s pack had decided they wanted to be a part of a group. What’s more, she knew that many of them were now financially reliant on there being a pack. They needed the bar and the support of the group and January understood that. It was too bad that the wolves didn’t share the community spirit.

  “I suppose we’ll have to take a trip to that werewolf bar after all,” she said, and Ryan nodded. Both of them wondered if they’d be allowed in… or allowed to leave.

  “I packed a picnic,” January said, lifting up the bag she’d been carrying with her since they’d left the house.

  “It’s February,” Ryan said, rubbing his red nose and wincing when his hand touched his nose ring. Cold weather and nose rings weren’t a great combination.

  “Yeah, I know, but I was trying to persuade myself that coming this early wasn’t the act of a freaked out paranoid person and that there was a logical reason why we might want to be in the woods, so… picnic!”

  They both sat down on the highest bank overlooking the clearing and January unpacked the coronation chicken sandwiches and the caramel and seasalt shortbread she’d knocked together.

  “Mmm this is amazing. You’re definitely marriage material,” Ryan said in-between mouthfuls.

  January blushed and looked away. She knew he was kidding, but it only served to remind her of her tangled up feelings. She and Ryan had been together for four months and as yet, they hadn’t really talked about the way they felt about each other beyond ‘like’. To make matters worse, Gregory’s recent actions and admission that he liked her had stirred up all kinds of emotions. Perhaps if she had more experience with love, she’d know what to do, but January felt like she was completely at sea. This was something you were supposed to chat about with your girlfriends, but apart from Charlie and possibly Leah, January didn’t have any of those. And she could hardly discuss the pros and cons of vampires vs. shifters with them!

  Often the best thing was just to say what was on your mind.

  “Ryan… what kind of feelings do you have for me?” She tried to sound casual and offhand, but her voice was wobbling all over the place with nerves.

  Ryan gave her a sideways look and raised an eyebrow. “Lots of warm and fuzzy ones right now.”

  January bit her lip. “So, you like me?”

  “Of course I like you and I care about you a lot,” Ryan said, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into his side. “Surely you must know that?”

  “Yes, I think so. We haven’t really talked about it and I’m just trying to work everything out, you know, in a logical way.”

  Ryan put down the sandwich he’d just been about to bite. “January, you know you’ve got to go with your heart on something like this. Don’t think too much about it, just feel what you feel. How do you feel about us by the way?” His mouth twitched up at the side and January felt a familiar rush of want, but was it more than that? She didn’t know.

  “Yeah, I feel great. You’re great,” she said, hoping that didn’t sound as disingenuous as she thought it did.

  Fortunately, Ryan’s smile got wider. “I love it when you go all awkward,” he told her and kissed her.

  January pulled a face as he smeared coronation chicken on her cheek. “Hey! Don’t waste it!”

  “I wasn’t planning to,” Ryan said, leaning forwards and slowly licking it off her cheek. January felt the blood rise to the place he’d just touched
with his tongue and knew she was glowing from more than just the cold now.

  “Caramel shortbread?” She said, a little too brightly.

  Ryan folded his big arms and sulked. “Just when it was getting good.”

  “Everyone would know,” she warned him.

  That was the problem with shifters. Things that were overlooked by average humans would not be overlooked by the two-natured kind. She didn’t want everyone knowing they’d got down and dirty in the woods right before the full moon meet.

  “Also, we’re meant to be remaining vigilant. Stop distracting me!” She batted away his hands that had started to slide under her clothes and tried not to let the situation dissolve into a wrestling match. It was so tempting.

  “We could go home and come back… there’s time,” Ryan said.

  January was about to open her mouth to give in when a twig snapped somewhere in the trees behind them.

  Ryan and January were on their feet in an instant. The playful mood was gone, replaced with a hunter’s focus. They split up and silently slipped through the trees. January sniffed the air but couldn’t pick up a trace of anything other than old scents and trees. She held her breath and listened for any sign of who, or what, had made the twig break, but heard nothing.

  Her phone buzzed loudly in her pocket and she swore. She’d forgotten to turn it off! Ryan moved through the trees quickly, throwing caution to the wind now their position had been well and truly given away. January grabbed her phone and shouted a warning to Ryan to remember to look for traps. Running headlong towards a bounty hunter who specialised in sneak attacks was an awful idea.

  “Someone was here, but they’ve gone!” Ryan shouted.

  January relaxed enough to look at her phone and see who it was that was calling. The number said unknown, but she had this weird feeling it was important. It was the same feeling she got whenever there was magic involved.

  “Hello, who is this?” She said, hating how loud her voice sounded in the quiet forest.