Hedgewitchin' in the Kitchen Page 16

“Tempt me to be nice to you with your selflessness and unending kindheartedness. And pie.”

  He shoved the bag back into my arms. I feared I’d blown it. Thatch lifted his wand. He circled it around me, lassoing me with black mist.

  “Oh no!” I said, expecting the worst.

  The air was sucked from my lungs, and the world spun around me. My feet felt as though they went out from under me. I stumbled and dropped the bag. Thatch caught my arm. I blinked as a light above me momentarily blinded me. I was in my classroom. Candles in the chandelier above had been lit.

  Thatch lifted the dripping bag onto a table. “What do you have in here? Bricks?”

  “No.”

  He tried opening the bag, but he couldn’t wrestle the zipper into submission either. It unjammed with a tap from his wand. He removed a large stone the size of my head. The gray was the same color as the walls. I gasped. He pulled out several more and set them on a student table.

  “How did those get in there?” I asked. “Who would play such a dirty trick on me? That wasn’t you, was it?”

  “Contrary to popular belief, I’m not that evil.” Thatch removed the bags of food and set them on a table, examining the contents.

  I lifted a gray stone with crusts of mortar stuck to it. The rocks had come from the school, maybe from the section that my mother’s experiments had left in ruins. Someone at this school had played this practical joke on me. If Thatch hadn’t done it, then who had?

  Who hated me that much? I thought about Hailey, but she hadn’t known about my trip.

  Thatch unzipped one of the bags and inhaled. I shivered in my sopping clothes. I’d lost my hat, either in the forest or with the transportation spell. Hopefully the unicorns didn’t find it and accuse me of litter.

  I shrugged out of my coat, but my arm got stuck. I tugged again. Fabric ripped, and I realized it was one of the sleeves of my blouse. Thatch scowled and shook his head. He flicked a hand at me. A burst of warm air blew against me, drying out my hair and clothes in a rush of magic. I raised my arms as hot air blew in my face like a hair dryer.

  Thatch shouted over the roar of wind. “I’m banning you from traveling home by bus.”

  “How will I ever get to see my mom again?”

  “From now on, you need to ask Vega or me to take you home. We’ll use magic.” Thatch held up a bag of smashed pie. “Is that pumpkin pie?”

  “Yes. And apple.”

  The hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Do you have any forks in your desk?”

  Probably that was as close as I would get to gratitude.

  Seven-Layer Bars

  This is called a seven-layer bar because there are only seven ingredients, though it might seem like there are only six layers if you stop to analyze it. But you won’t stop to think about anything other than how decadently delicious these are after you start eating them.

  Ingredients

  • ½ cup unsalted butter (stick)

  • 1 ½ cups graham cracker crumbs

  • 1 cup semisweet chocolate chips

  • 1 cup butterscotch chips

  • 1 cup chopped pecans (walnuts are okay instead)

  • 1 (14 ounce) can sweetened condensed milk

  • 1 ½ cups shredded coconut

  Directions

  1. Preheat oven to 350° F (180° C).

  2. Place butter in 13 x 9 inch pan and melt in oven. Swirl to coat bottom and sides with butter.

  3. Spread graham cracker crumbs evenly over bottom of pan. Layer chocolate chips, butterscotch chips, and nuts over crumbs. Pour condensed milk over nuts. Sprinkle coconut over condensed milk.

  4. Bake until edges are golden brown, about 25 minutes. Let cool before cutting into bars.

  Excerpt from A Handful of Hexes

  “Hands,” I said. “I need your help again. Are you all right with that?”

  One gave me a thumbs-up.

  I whispered a request to one of the hands. It wasn’t like the hands had ears, but Vega did, and I didn’t want her to hear my plan. Several hands scampered off. A couple minutes later they came back with my Tupperware container.

  “What’s that?” Vega’s tone was wary.

  Good. I had her nervous.

  “Do you know how many calories are in a seven-layer bar?” I asked.

  “No.” She shook her head. “Don’t do it.”

  I selected the biggest one from the box and waved it under her nose. “I’m sure you burn enough fat dancing on your enemies’ graves that three hundred calories aren’t going to matter.”

  “Yes, it will. I’m warning you. Put that thing away, or I’ll hex you.”

  “How are you going to do that with your mouth full?”

  Before she could respond, I shoved the bar into her mouth. She mumbled a protest and tried to twist her head away, but the hands ensured she stayed in place. I worried I might have to pinch her nose closed so she would swallow. If I did, she would probably choke, and I wasn’t trying to kill her.

  As it turned out, I didn’t have to resort to extreme measures. Like most deprived dieters, she took the bait. She swallowed and eyed the tub.

  She licked her lips. “Fuck. That was good. I haven’t had refined sugar in years.”

  “There’s more where that came from.” I fed her another, slowly this time, allowing her to savor the salty sweet combination of sugar, butterscotch, coconut, and pecans.

  My biological mother killed and tortured. My fairy godmother taught me to kill with kindness. Who said I couldn’t save the day with baking skills?

  No-Bake Cookies

  Ingredients

  • ½ cup (115 grams) butter, cut into pieces

  • 2 cups (400 grams) granulated sugar

  • ½ cup (120ml) milk

  • ¼ cup (20 grams) unsweetened cocoa powder

  • ½ cup (125 grams) creamy peanut butter

  • 1 tsp. vanilla extract

  • 3 cups (300 grams) quick-cooking oats

  Directions

  1. Before getting started, make sure to gather all of your ingredients and measure everything out. Line two large baking sheets with parchment paper or wax paper and set aside.

  2. Place the butter, sugar, milk, and unsweetened cocoa powder in a saucepan and heat over medium heat, making sure to stir often until the butter is melted and everything is well combined. Bring the mixture to a rolling boil and allow to boil for 60 seconds. Stir occasionally.

  3. Remove from the heat, and stir in the peanut butter and vanilla extract until fully combined. Stir in the oats and mix until all of the oats are coated with the mixture and everything is well combined.

  4. Drop spoonfuls onto the prepared baking sheets. Allow to cool and set for 20-30 minutes, serve, and enjoy!

  Kitchen Tips

  • Make sure to gather your ingredients and measure everything out before you get started with these cookies. It will make the whole process much smoother.

  • Be sure to set a timer for 60 seconds once the mixture comes to a rolling boil and remove it from the heat as soon as the timer goes off.

  • If you find the cookies aren’t setting up properly or seem a little too wet after you’ve let them cool for about 20-30 minutes, place them in the refrigerator to help firm them up.

  • Use a two-tablespoon cookie scoop when measuring out the cookies to make sure they are the same size. Usually you can get about about 30-32 cookies.

  

  Kitchen Omens

  Spilling salt is a sign of trouble. Spilling pepper signals a coming fight. To remedy this, people throw a pinch of the spilled salt or pepper over their left shoulder.

  Sugar is symbolic of money in superstitions. Knocking over a sugar bowl means one is about to lose money. Accidentally substituting sugar for salt in a recipe is a sign of a sweet fortune soon to come.

  Accidentally substituting salt for sugar is a sign that many tears are to come—and no
t just because you’ve ruined a dish you would otherwise have enjoyed.

  When one forgets to add salt and spice to a recipe altogether it means that trouble is soon to arrive. The only way to prevent this is by adding the salt and spices as soon as possible before the dish is served.

  Excerpt from Hexes and Exes

  Today was going to be the first day of my new life. I was about to have my first real magic lesson with Professor Felix Thatch. Even the idea of his snarky comments in the dark bowels of the school dungeon on a Saturday at seven a.m. couldn’t rain on my parade. I was going to learn to control my powers and channel that energy into something productive. I refused to have another accident after this.

  I would be able to help my students. I would save Derrick.

  I hugged a foil-wrapped plate of cookies to my chest as I stepped into the doorway of his office, hoping they might take the edge off Thatch’s Sir-Grouch-a-Lot mood.

  Felix Thatch stood in the corner of his office, turned toward his pet bird in her cage. He removed a strip of red meat from one of the pockets of his tweed coat and fed it to the supposed crow. Priscilla pecked at it from between the bars of the cage and gobbled it up.

  I knocked on the doorframe.

  Thatch turned toward me, eyeing my striped leggings and pink hair with a scowl. He was dressed in a three-piece suit, the expanse of fabric as gray as the shadows of his dreary office. His skin was nearly as pale as the white cravat and starched shirt. As always, Thatch’s shoulder-length hair was simultaneously windswept and immaculate. I wanted to get my hands on his magic hairbrush.

  “I made some cookies. They’re no-bakes,” I said.

  I set the plate of cookies on his desk between a leather-bound book and a stack of essays, careful to avoid a crystal ball and quill. As I did so, I bumped into the rusty metal chair on my side of the desk. My striped leggings caught on one of the bolts sticking out from the side and snagged. It made me loathe his fear-energy torture chair even more. I scooted back.

  I was going to have to sit in the chair today, to relive my fears and see if I could control my magical affinity. I’d been making progress before Julian Thistledown’s attack. There was no reason to believe I wouldn’t be able to continue to make progress despite what my ex-boyfriend had tried to do to me.

  No reason, except I now had new fears to master.

  Thatch removed his wand from his sleeve and waved it over the plate. The air above the cookies glowed with purple light. I’d seen my friend Josie use this spell before.

  I crossed my arms. “I didn’t poison them.”

  The crisp British monotone of his voice greeted me with the usual level of enthusiasm. “That’s what they all say.”

  Satisfied with his test, he removed the foil. He wrinkled his nose at the lumpy brown blobs on the plate. “Those look like piles of unicorn manure.”

  The insult stung. So much for cookies being the path to salvation.

  I laughed, attempting to make light of his comment. “Fortunately, they don’t taste like manure. It’s my fairy godmother’s recipe, and you liked Mom’s cooking, so I figured you’d enjoy these.” Thatch’s genial relationship with my adoptive mother was nothing compared to his complex relationship with my biological mother, Alouette Loraline, wickedest witch in the Unseen Realm. Partly that was because Mom had made him baked goods, and partially because she hadn’t tortured him to near death like Alouette Loraline.

  If anyone had a reason to dislike me—and resent having to teach me—it was him. Our professional relationship had gotten off to a rocky start at the beginning of the year. Now that Thatch knew me, I was certain I’d broken through his resolve to hate me. I believed we could be friends eventually.

  Someday I would make all the other teachers see I wasn’t a wicked witch like Alouette Loraline who would kill people and try to take over the world.

  At least, I hoped I wouldn’t.

  His scowl returned. “Surely you made a mistake somewhere.”

  I fidgeted with the fabric of my black skirt. “No, they’re supposed to look like this. Really.”

  He loomed over his desk, formidable as ever. The only sound in the room was the rustle of the bird in her cage. She watched me with a black unblinking eye. Thatch might have trusted his bird because she was his sister, but I still wasn’t convinced the raven wasn’t actually in cahoots with the Raven Court, the Fae who had previously tried to kidnap me.

  Thatch continued to scowl at the plate. The turd-balls of chocolate, oatmeal, and peanut butter were delicious—if he would only try them.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t be so quick to judge appearances,” I said.

  His dark eyebrow arched higher. “Some apples don’t fall far from the tree.”

  “I’m not Loraline.”

  “I didn’t say you were.”

  The other teachers whispered I looked like her. I didn’t wear a pointed witch hat, have midnight hair, or possess a clear, creamy complexion; I was freckled and dyed my hair—pink at the moment—but the face on the painting of her in the upstairs stairwell was a mirror image of my own. It was going to be hard to undo other Witchkins’ preconceived notions, but I wasn’t going to be like her—I wasn’t going to torture and murder people.

  I suspected it wouldn’t help if they knew I’d killed Julian Thistledown. On purpose.

  Thatch picked up a cookie, smelled it, and then set it down on the plate again. He plopped himself into his seat. “I hope you don’t think you can bribe me with cookies, especially inferior ones at that. It isn’t going to make me go any easier on you.”

  This wasn’t going at all as I’d planned. “The cookies aren’t bribery. They’re a thank-you present. You know, for teaching me.”

  He looked away. “Ah, a thank-you. You do know how these things work in the Unseen Realm. If you thank a Fae—or a half Fae—you owe him a boon. Or if a Fae thanks you—”

  “Shush. I’m paying you in cookies.” I gestured at the plate. “Just try one.”

  He didn’t move.

  “Never mind.” I reached for the plate. “I’ll share my cookies with Josie and Khaba.”

  He smacked my hand with his wand. “Leave them.”

  He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

  “Sit,” he said.

  I swallowed and glanced at the metal chair. The last time I had sat there, snakes that were supposedly figments of my imagination had wound around me and bound me to the chair. Reluctantly, I sat. The chill of the metal seeped through my tights and skirt and into my legs. Cold leached into my back despite the T-shirt and sweater I wore.

  “Remove your sweater.”

  I hesitated. He probably had a reason for asking me to do so that had nothing to do with him being the controlling dungeon master trying to get a young woman to remove her clothes in his office. The problem was that part of me wanted this attractive, off-limits professor to ask me to take my clothes off because he was interested in me. Realistically, I knew he would never be able to look at me that way after his history with my mother.

  Guilt raked my insides every time I had these sexy Thatch thoughts. I still longed for Derrick, even if I didn’t know if I would ever see him again.

  Thatch sighed, misunderstanding my inner conflict. His tone was patronizing, as though he were talking to a small child. “The more of you that is in direct contact with the metal, the more likely you will reach a meditative state. That means more of you will be connected with the magic.”

  “Okay, got it. Fear magic. It’s just that it’s so cold in here. Would you be willing to turn up the thermostat?”

  “No. You need to learn to ignore the sensations of your body. You can turn pain into energy. Do the same with the cold.”

  Grudgingly, I removed my sweater. I draped it over my lap. The armrests of the chair were about as warm as icicles. I shivered against the back of the chair, my T-shirt not enough to protect me.

  It occurred to me how I co
uld fit in this chair, whereas most chairs were too large for me. My feet touched the ground, and my back rested against the cool metal. That meant it had been made for someone small, a child perhaps. The idea of that was even more creepy, knowing what it did.

  “Close your eyes and relax your muscles.” He walked me through the visualization.

  I transformed my discomfort into energy that spiraled around in a red ball of glowing light in my belly. The cold left me as I sank deeper into myself. Slowly my focus changed, and I became aware of my body once again.

  A tickle against my neck drew my attention. I fought the urge to open my eyes. Something small and light snaked over my arms and coiled down around my wrists. The movement was slight at first, but the pressure increased as it tightened. It didn’t feel the same as the serpents that had bound me before. These felt more like ropes, but they smelled more like my fairy godmother’s garden.

  I winced as the ropes bit into my flesh.

  It was all an illusion, I told myself. The chair was just drawing out my weaknesses to challenge my affinity, my magical power source. More pricks of pain poked against my arms. The air smelled of roses and spring. Slender coils wound around my ankles, drawing my legs closer to the legs of the chair. I knew what my weakness was and didn’t look forward to facing this fear.

  “Relax your muscles,” Thatch said.

  Right, because being bound to a chair was so relaxing.

  Sharp stabs of pain dug into my calves. I pushed the sensation out of my skin and ignored it. I could control pain. Pain was an illusion.

  The darkness faded into light, and I became aware of the room, though I was certain my eyes were still closed. It wasn’t snakes or ropes that held me, but plants. Thorny vines clawed at my skin. White roses blossomed before my eyes. Droplets of blood clung like dew against the white petals.

  The cookies I’d eaten for breakfast sank like bricks in my stomach. Thatch sat on the other side of his desk, eyes closed, muttering something under his breath as he waved his wand in the air. Behind him stood a shadow.