"Well, maybe you should have someone to face your problems with you." Determined to reclaim his flirtatious attention, I countered, “We’re going to change your misfortunes, and we can begin by mixing the base for whatever it was Kitty suggested last night... lavender scones and crème brûlée cupcakes. Of course, I’ll make a gluten-free batch. We’ll sprinkle just a pinch of sincerity dust into the desserts. It’s nearly as strong as a truth potion, and it’s hardly ever noticed.”
“Interesting.” Wickham rubbed his chin, the sparkle returning to his eyes. “Will it make any difference?”
Even a sincerity potion was pushing our luck. “Some, maybe. It may stop people from saying things they don’t mean. I don’t dare use anything stronger, though, not with an entire crowd of people. Can you imagine the mayhem that could break out in a crowd full of complete, unabashed honesty? As entertaining as that might be, it could also lead to more than a murder confession.”
Wickham cringed. “The last thing we need is a group of people at each other’s throats and angry at us for dosing them with something.”
“Exactly, there’s been enough violence already. Did your mother teach you how to bake, Mr. Wickham?” I tipped my head and pecked his cheek.
He glanced around the professional bakery as if he worried someone might’ve seen me kiss him. “Not as a kid, but over the past few years, I’ve polished my skills rather nicely.”
“Didn’t you make chocolate chip cookies or cupcakes with your mom?” I gaped at him a little more dramatically than necessary.
He gave me a pretend pout, like he’d been a neglected child. “Not often. My parents worked for Darcy’s family, and making cookies after a long day of domestic service was never on the list of priorities.”
“That’s gloomy. Well, now’s your chance to show me your skills.” While I never loved working in the family bakery—or working in general—today the sense of normalcy was a comfort. I hopped down from the counter and pulled out a large mixing bowl with several ingredients.
The glint of his necklace peeking from beneath his T-shirt caught my eye. “Before we start, I’ve been meaning to ask you about your ring... or, well, I guess it’s a necklace. It’s fancy.”
Wickham’s face colored a pinch, something I didn’t know was even possible for a vampire. “I didn’t realize it was so noticeable. Maybe I should have said something to the police about it. I found it in Alex’s hand, and my instincts said to take it because it might help us.”
I stepped closer and lifted the ring hanging from a leather cord against his chest. It was gold and simple, just a band. But a lovely rope-like engraving adorned the sides. “It’s beautiful... reminds me of the Celtic patterns yousee in classic artwork. There are a few symbols that might mean something.”
He nodded. “I should have given it to the police, but I’ve learned to trust my intuition, so I’m going to hold on to it for now.”
“Trust your gut.” I didn’t admit that was how I made most of my life decisions. But doing so hadn’t steered me into too many catastrophes yet, and it was more fun than overthinking things.
The lights flickered, casting long shadows across the kitchen. A cool draft whispered past me. I shuddered and turned to notice Bradley and Harley coming down the side alley, preparing to knock on the glass door that led to the kitchen. This door, on the side of the building, allowed us to come and go from the bakery without bothering with the front entrance. I let them inside, confused. There was nothing suspicious about either of them, so the creepy premonition made little sense.
“I’m glad you two made it. We’re just getting started.” I showed them where to hang their coats.
Bradley peeled off his jacket and carefully hung it up. He wasn’t as attractive as Wickham, because nobody was as attractive as Wickham, but he was close,in great shape, and had perfectly sleek Asian hair. He had enough rock star vibe to be hot, but with a professional edge that made people take him seriously. His aura blazed with restless viridian and amber energy, which I suspected reflected an internal battle. His phone buzzed, and when he glanced at it, a sharp burst of tension tightened his aura—something hidden beneath his polite smile.
Harley’s long hair was the shade of lilacs, and her violet aura shimmered with ribbons of icy silver. She was the band member that, while I’m sure unintentional, always left me uneasy. She was far too pretty and talented to be as modest and bashful as she was. I sometimes suspected it was all an act, but she never broke character, so maybe it was who she really was.
After removing her coat, she primly brushed the wrinkles from it before leaving it on the rack. Her dark eyes darted nervously around the room, and I couldn’t tell if she was worried about something serious or she simply had little interest in getting her hands dirty while working in the kitchen.
“Thanks for planning this,” Bradley said to no one in particular, still clutching his phone and occasionally peeking at it. “We’re all pretty devastated about Alex.”
“Of course. Truly tragic.” Wickham gave them both a quick hug. His aura, now ocean green, held steady, but a stormy bolt streaked through the edges.
“What have you been up to for the last couple of days?” Bradley asked hesitantly, tucking his phone into his back pocket.
“Trying to lie low. The police have already interrogated me. This is confusing,” Wickham replied casually, but his expression flattened.
“Didn’t you two find Alex’s body?” Bradley’s eyes narrowed, not in a way that made me suspect he was accusing Wickham, but more that he was trying to make sense of the situation.
Wickham’s jaw clenched, and he glanced at me. “Are you okay if I share what happened?”
I nodded, unsure why it would bother me, but appreciating his courtesy all the same. I pulled baking soda and vanilla from the cupboard. “It was very traumatic for both of us. Thank heavens we were together.”
“We stopped at the amphitheater after our date. Found him there, electrocuted,” Wickham said quietly. “Sorry I wasn’t quick to text everyone about it. It’s been awhirlwind.”
Harley’s jaw dropped. “I didn’t realize that’s how he died. How horrible.”
“Do you know how he got electrocuted, like did he put his finger in a light socket or something? I know the police say it was murder. What’s your take?” Bradley asked.
Wickham didn't mind the interrogation. “Someone must’ve struck him with a live cord, but he’d removed his shoes and was in a puddle on the floor. How they accomplished that is beyond me. Did you see anything weird that night?”
