Hedgewitchin' in the Kitchen Page 8

  * * *

  A batch of chocolate mousse was a small price to pay for being reunited with a familiar. Abigail had enough ingredients for another batch. She stayed up late working on it. As she did so, she began to worry. Most of the people at the school were friendly enough—aside from Vega Bloodmire.

  The magical wards teacher was crabby, terse, and cruel. She represented all the reasons Abigail had left this realm. Any witch as wicked as Vega surely wouldn’t be persuaded to do a good deed by simply giving her vegan pudding. Then again, the cafeteria food truly was dreadful.

  Abigail obsessed over Vega Bloodmire’s words. “I’ll bring your cat at breakfast tomorrow.”

  Did that mean she intended to cook Lucifer into a pie and present him to Abigail? What if Vega Bloodmire had sinister intentions. Her smile had been mysterious, perhaps malicious. Abigail knew she couldn’t trust this woman. She should have tried bribing Mr. Thatch with seven-layer bars.

  It was midnight when she woke Clarissa from a sound sleep.

  “What is it, Mom? Time for more medicine?” Clarissa asked, rubbing her eyes.

  “Sweetie, I need to ask you something about Vega Bloodmire. Is she the kind of person who would hurt Lucy?” Abigail remembered what Mr. Thatch had said about not wanting people to know how much Priscilla meant to him because they would use her to hurt him. “Do you think Vega would do something bad to him to hurt me?”

  “Why would she want to hurt you? You aren’t her annoying roommate who she accuses of wearing too much pink and hogging up the shower in the morning.” Clarissa flopped over.

  “I made a deal with Vega. She’s supposed to find Lucifer for me, and I’m supposed to make her a batch of chocolate mousse. Do you think she’ll bring him to me chopped into a casserole?”

  “Maybe a cat-erole.” Clarissa chuckled, then stopped when she saw Abigail’s stricken expression. “Don’t worry. Vega doesn’t do any cooking. Only hexing.”

  “What about that miniature Venus man trap in your room? Has she ever fed any animals to it?”

  Clarissa bit her lip. “Only small birds.”

  Abigail shivered, recalling her childhood and the human-devouring plants she had once encountered. “You saw her do this?”

  Clarissa nodded. “Lucifer is too big to get swallowed by her plant. Don’t you think you would have noticed a bulge five times as big as the plant today if Vega had fed Lucy to her Venus man trap?”

  Unless she had chopped up the cat and fed it to the plant in pieces. Abigail hated this world of witches and cruelty that her daughter had involved herself with. Why couldn’t she have chosen the safety of the Morty Realm instead of this one with all its dangers? If it wasn’t Clarissa getting hurt, it was the only other person Abigail had left.

  Abigail didn’t want to lose her remaining family.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  What the Hex?

  Vega wasn’t at breakfast in the cafeteria. Abigail hoped she hadn’t changed her mind. She found Vega in her classroom in the morning, lecturing a student.

  Vega tapped her long red nails against a book on the student’s desk. “What’s the point in showing up to class if you never do the work?”

  The boy mumbled something incomprehensible.

  “You’re lucky I don’t turn you into a frog for trying to get out of breakfast detention. Don’t give me that look. I’ve turned students into frogs before.” Vega opened the student’s book. “It looks like you get to make up that missing work now. Lucky you.”

  Abigail scanned the room, not seeing Lucifer. Vega Bloodmire seemed the sort who might extort more out of her before handing over Lucifer—if she had found him at all.

  Vega turned to Abigail, a hand on her hip. “Apparently someone didn’t get her beauty sleep. Did you stay up all night making me breakfast?”

  Abigail hugged the bowl of chocolate mousse to her chest. “Something like that.”

  Vega held her hands out for the bowl.

  Abigail stepped back. “Where is my familiar?”

  Vega snapped her fingers. “Lucifer, come.”

  “He’s not a dog,” Abigail said.

  A black cat darted out from behind the teacher’s desk at the front of the classroom and headed toward Abigail. Lucifer didn’t take commands from anyone. This couldn’t be her cat. Yet he nuzzled up against Abigail’s ankle as though he knew her.

  Vega snatched the bowl from Abigail’s hands while she was distracted. Abigail crouched down to pet the cat. It looked like Lucifer. She picked him up. He was as heavy as Lucifer. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and purred. It really was him! Gratitude swelled in Abigail’s heart.

  Vega sat down at her desk and dug into the mousse. “I had a conversation with your familiar the other night—once he stopped being such a drama queen, anyway.”

  “What do you mean ‘you had a conversation?’ Lucy doesn’t speak.” Abigail stared at Vega incredulously.

  “He communicated himself clearly to me. I’m a real witch, remember?” Vega looked her up and down. “Not a mere hedge witch.” Vega jabbed her spoon in the direction of the student. “Stop gawking. You have work to do.”

  Abigail turned to find the student quickly looking down at his paper and flipping through the book.

  “Could we discuss this privately?” Abigail whispered.

  “Don’t worry about Balthasar.” Vega leaned closer. “I’ve hexed his tongue. He can’t repeat a word of this, though it will drive him mad trying.” She cackled.

  The student glared at the teacher.

  “How did you find my Lucy? What did he say to you?” Abigail hugged Lucifer to her chest.

  “Your real problem wasn’t finding your familiar—because he wasn’t actually lost. He was searching for something. An answer.” Vega grinned. “You want him to be returned to his true form.”

  Vega knew? Abigail sucked in a breath. “Did Mr. Thatch tell you?”

  “No, Lucifer did.”

  Vega had called her cat by his real name—something Abigail seldom did. And she seemed to know what Abigail truly desired. It was possible she could understand Lucifer.

  “Can you speak with Mr. Thatch’s familiar too?”

  Vega shrugged. “I’ve never tried. If he paid me with pudding, I might consider putting in the effort.”

  Lucifer twisted in Abigail’s arms and made a pawing motion at Vega.

  “He’s trying to tell you something,” Abigail said.

  Lucifer meowed.

  Vega studied him for a moment. “That’s right. I did agree to tell her for you.” Vega looked to Abigail. “Lucifer told me last night he was sorry for running off and not protecting you. He was a . . . scaredy-cat.” Vega chuckled, the sound deep and ominous.

  Abigail stroked his head. “It’s all right. I forgive you.”

  Vega waved a dismissive hand at Lucifer. “Also, he insisted I tell you he doesn’t like the principal, and he doesn’t think you should trust him. He doesn’t want Jeb to know what he is—nor does he want anyone else knowing who he is.” Vega lowered her voice. “He specifically asked me to tell you not to speak of his affinity.” Vega raised an eyebrow. “Whatever that means.”

  Abigail swallowed. She understood his affinity was a kind of forbidden magic that used electricity. It was possible that might have something to do with the reason he’d been stuck as a cat for so long—or it might have been inconsequential. She couldn’t ask anyone for advice if Lucifer insisted on keeping it secret. Some affinities were more dangerous than others. Her daughter’s affinity included. The more she thought about it, the more she could see that was why the Fae would want to use them as weapons—or outright kill them as Clarissa’s attacker had tried to do to her.

  Abigail whispered in Lucifer’s ear. “What about Clarissa? She knows about magic now. There wouldn’t be any harm in telling her about you.”

  He shook his head.

  “He has his reasons for not wanting
her to know, though he wouldn’t confide them in me,” Vega said.

  Abigail nodded. She would keep both their secrets. “Is that why you ran off? Because you didn’t want the principal knowing what you are?”

  His tail twitched back and forth. He laid his head on her shoulder.

  “Maybe he just didn’t want to end up fixed. It’s just as well you don’t ask a senile old fool to attempt such complicated magic.” Vega jabbed her spoon in the direction of the student. “Did I give you permission to stop working?”

  “I can’t concentrate,” the boy grumbled. “You’re talking too much.”

  “This is the reason you’re failing my class. Are you going to let a Fae distract you someday while you’re trying to recite a ward of protection? Focus.”

  Abigail glanced at the student, still unsettled he was listening in on their conversation. “Did Lucy say anything else? Does he know how to restore himself to his former body?”

  Lucifer squirmed to look at her. He touched his nose to hers and meowed.

  “He said he loves you. He’s always loved you, and he always will.” Vega’s voice grew husky, and she turned her gaze away. “He wishes you were both cats.”

  For the first time since meeting Vega, Abigail detected a trace of emotion in the other woman. It didn’t take a witch to see the longing in her face.

  Abigail tested the waters, trying to see if she could dig deeper into Vega’s soft spot. “It’s a horrible fate to be with someone but not be with them at the same time.”

  Vega stared at the spoon. “It is. Worse than death. At least in death you wouldn’t know you’re missing anything, and the suffering would be over.”

  Abigail wondered who Vega loved but couldn’t have. Was it Mr. Thatch? It would make sense why Vega might loathe Clarissa so much if she had stolen his attention from her.

  Vega’s voice was distant, thoughtful, lost in musings of her own unrequited love. “I wouldn’t wish my fate on anyone.”

  Abigail lowered her voice, not wanting the student pretending to study to hear more about her familiar—even if he couldn’t repeat it. “Do you know how to change Lucy back?”

  “Not exactly.” Determination laced Vega’s tone. “But I know someone who does.”

  “Who?”

  “My grandmother. And if she doesn’t know, she’ll know someone who does.” Vega ate another spoonful, closing her eyes and savoring it.

  This was the best lead Abigail had learned so far. “Can we go see her now?”

  “Witch, please! I have classes in twenty minutes. And you need to collect a few items before you even think about asking her for a favor. A wicked witch doesn’t do anything for free, and the witch I’m taking you to is going to want more than pudding.” Vega picked up a list on her desk and handed it to Abigail. “Be ready to go at four, and bring your cat. Don’t be tardy.”

  “Do you want me to bring you any more pudding?” Abigail asked.

  Vega hesitated, thinking it over. “Bake me something nonperishable this time.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Witch Your Heart Out

  It wasn’t unheard of to bring Fae gifts when visiting them in their home. Abigail had left the Unseen Realm so long ago she didn’t remember all the etiquette for visiting witches. A few banal groceries were hardly the price she was used to being asked to barter in exchange for magic.

  Vega seemed like she knew what she was doing. Even so, Abigail suspected she should prepare for the worst-case scenario if the old woman rejected her proposal to cure Lucifer.

  Abigail purchased the items on Vega’s list at Ye Green Grocery, the store where she’d purchased the witch-friendly ingredients previously. Included on the list were vodka, flour, lard, and sugar. Vega didn’t eat lard or sugar, so at least two of those items had to be for her grandmother. Abigail wondered if Vega’s relative was a shut-in who didn’t leave the house much.

  Abigail decided to bake her recipe for gluten-free dirty chai brownies as her payment to Vega. The first batch was an experiment with coconut oil and honey. Abigail found them to be too sweet.

  “That’s okay, Mom. I’m happy to eat your failures,” Clarissa said as she nibbled on a brownie.

  Abigail felt guilty not telling her daughter the true reason she was making these brownies. All she had said was that they were a present to thank Vega for helping her find Lucifer. Vega’s batch turned out slightly less sweet than she intended, but the extra honey in the ganache made up for the lack of sugar in the brownies. The last batch—the one she intended as an offering to Vega’s grandmother—was perfect.

  Not wanting to be late, Abigail arrived ten minutes early, lugging the bags of groceries, brownies, and Lucifer to Vega’s classroom. She waited outside as Vega shouted at a small group of students for being incompetent and lazy. Abigail couldn’t tell whether the woman was a cruel teacher who enjoyed belittling others or she truly cared and wanted them to do better—and insults were her way of showing her love.

  Abigail had never been a student at a school, and she was an adult who should have been above such things, but the yelling set her nerves on edge. She felt as though she had done something to land herself in trouble. She looked down at Lucifer in her bag and petted his head.

  After Vega Bloodmire was finished reprimanding students, she dismissed them. Abigail brought in her bags and set a foil-wrapped package of brownies on Vega’s desk. The one for her grandmother remained in one of Abigail’s bags.

  Vega tasted one brownie, and she was a goner. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she moaned. Abigail started to speak, but Vega shushed her. Abigail knew she should take that as a compliment, but Vega had a way of exuding an entitled self-importance she didn’t like. It served to further remind her Vega had her own agenda, whatever it was.

  Vega wiped the crumbs from the corners of her mouth. “We need to go into the forest before departing. I’m not supposed to use interdimensional travel within the school boundaries. It interferes with the wards.” She made a face.

  “How are we getting to your grandmother’s house? Do you fly on a broom?” Abigail had never learned. Chances were if she had stayed on as an apprentice, she would have. Brooms were made of wood, and plants were her affinity.

  “Brooms are so passé. And impractical for two.” She eyed the bags Abigail carried. “I prefer to interrupt the space-time continuum the good old-fashioned method. Walking.”

  Walking? That had been the last thing Abigail expected to come out of a modern witch’s mouth.

  * * *

  Abigail wasn’t completely comfortable with the idea of traveling into the dark forest of the Unseen Realm—accompanied by the granddaughter of a wicked witch no less. Vega wasn’t exactly wicked, but she wasn’t a cuddly teddy bear either. She was cool and calculating. If she was anything like other witches Abigail had met, Vega would somehow spin this situation to her advantage to gain more than organic vegan brownies.

  But Abigail didn’t see what other choice she had.

  Vega didn’t offer to carry any of the bags despite the way Lucifer nudged his head against Vega’s leg as she walked and nodded toward the groceries. Abigail hadn’t expected Vega to pitch in and help. Seeing his efforts to communicate wasted, Lucifer darted between Vega’s feet and tried to trip her.

  “Do that again, and we’ll find out the best way to skin a cat.” Vega stepped on his tail, making him yowl.

  “Come walk by me, Lucy,” Abigail said.

  Despite her petite size, Abigail could carry fifty-pound bags of potting soil. It wasn’t the weight that bothered her. It was the endurance it took to keep up with a woman over six feet tall for a sustained period while carrying the weight. Long ago, the uneven ground in the forest off the path wouldn’t have given her any problems. These days the forest didn’t whisper to her and guide her feet as it once had.

  Vega marched confidently forward in her high heels. She must have put a retardant charm on her shoes becaus
e the leather remained pristine. Abigail worked hard to keep up.

  Only once did Vega stop. She swore when a blackberry bramble snagged on her nylons.

  “I paid extra for these. They’re supposed to be snag free,” she complained.

  Abigail tried not to laugh. “How is it the makers didn’t envision someone would be walking through the forest while wearing them?” All things considered, the nylons had held up admirably well.

  Vega’s eyes narrowed. Abigail smiled her sweetest smile.

  “That’s where Clarissa gets it,” Vega said. “She gets her unending amount of cheerful snark from you, doesn’t she?”

  “Probably.”

  Vega navigated the terrain more carefully now. Abigail was thankful she didn’t have to work as hard to keep up. A minute later they came to a path covered in the mulch of pine needles and twigs.

  The change in the forest was subtle. First it was the increase in conifers, blotting out the gloom of the autumn sky. The bare branches of deciduous trees that had lost their leaves were replaced by green boughs. Sunlight and blue sky showed through patches in the canopy above. Out of the corner of Abigail’s eye, it looked as though the forest shifted, but when she turned to gaze at the movement, the trees were still.

  Magic prickled against her skin. The perfume of wet wood and spring increased. The leaves whispered in the wind above. It sounded like a lullaby. The colors grew more vivid, the magic in the soil and plants tingling through Abigail’s shoes, even though she’d worn plastic sneakers.

  It had been years since she’d felt magic this intensely.

  Lucifer meowed. He noticed the change too.

  “We’re in the Faerie Realm?” Abigail asked.

  “Home sweet home. We aren’t on the border of the Unseen Realm anymore,” Vega said.

  It did feel like home here. As much as Abigail wanted to run from magic and all the hardships that often came with it, the forest here felt right. It was where feet wanted to take root.

  The earth was dry here, the summer heat warming Abigail in her jacket.