“Me?” asked Sylvie.
“Oui.”
What’s she talking about?This was like the time Sylvie tried a Swedish “sandwich cake.” She’d known something was off but didn’t realize what it was until she’d taken a bite. The “frosting” was really salmon mousse.
“You’ve been what I’d call an unwitting accomplice,” said Agnes.
Sylvie suddenly felt sick.I don’t like the wordunwitting.It’s just a polite way of calling someone a fool.Her muscles twisted, turning tight as the ropes on her wrist.
“You see, there’s a reason revenge is a dish best served cold. You have to wait a long time … but it’s worth it!”
Sylvie felt like she was standing in a murky pool where something clawed and fanged was lurking. “I don’t understand. You’ve been helping me. You said—”
“No!” Anger flickered across Agnes’s face. “Your mother was the one who sabotaged my recipe in the competition.Shecheated me out of first place, just like she cheated you out of the truth!”
Words could be powerful weapons. These hit Sylvie full force. She tried to gulp down a breath.
“No … that’s not possible?” Despite Sylvie’s effort, it came out as a question.
Agnes seemed to notice. A smile spread across her face. “Are you sure?”
She pulled a shimmering vial out of her pocket. It was just like the ones Sylvie had noticed, stacked on shelves in Agnes’s room. The contents looked like a swirling tornado, with bits of lace sucked inside.
Sylvie’s gaze narrowed. “V-veiled lady mushrooms … I remember now. You were cooking with them the first time I snuck into the kitchen.”
“Very good, Sylvie.” Agnes pulled out the stopper and chugged it down. Her body shifted. Sylvie took a step back.
It was like watching a butterfly emerge from a chrysalis, or maybe more like a snake shedding an old layer of skin. Bits of flesh sloughed off in chunks. A new pair of legs emerged, shorter and thinner. The long red locks morphed into a spiky blonde crop.
“Ah … that’s better.” The woman gave her new arms a stretch.
Sylvie took in the sad eyes and delicate features. Standing in front of her was a stranger, and yet, she was totally familiar. “J-Josephine Flammé.”
The woman smiled and took a bow. “Yes.”
“All this time, I’ve been confiding inyou?” A bitter flavor filled Sylvie’s mouth, like aspirin resting too long on the tongue.
“You manipulative minx,” squeaked Georgia.
Josephine ignored the comment.
“As soon as I read that your mom was going to be competing in All-Stars, I knew this was my chance for revenge,” said Josephine. Her voice turned icy. “But of course, it was impossible to pull this off on my own. I needed help, from someone powerful. Someone who would benefit even more than me from getting rid of Abby … and more importantly,you.”
Sylvie turned queasy. “You’re Bass’s mole—”
“I’d love to tell you you’re right.” Josephine gave Sylvie a wicked smile. “But a great chef never reveals all their secrets.”
Sylvie was still trying to make sense of it. “But Ms. Honeycut, she was the rat—”
“The librarian?” Josephine laughed. “That woman couldn’t cook her way out of a pot! Of course, it wasn’t easy for me, hiding under Godard’s nose. Once ingredients started disappearing, she grew suspicious. Then, she realized there was a spy. I knew it was only a matter of time before she figured it out.”
Sylvie recalled Kitty’s words:Spells can do more than keep people from getting in.At the time, she’d wondered what Kitty meant. Now, she thought she understood.They were trying to track down the school’s mole with magic.
Josephine moved closer. “I had to improvise, find a different source for my transformation supplies. The heist at Tidwick’s did the trick. But then, there were Godard’s other spells … the ones she put up to protect her students.”
Sylvie thought back to the staircase the night she’d broken into the school. She’d come so close to getting impaled, but at the last minute, the jaws on the stairs snapped shut.A protection spell.
“As long as you were at this school, I couldn’t break those down, at least not without drawing attention … until you stumbled into my kitchen, and a new idea formed.”
