“I’m going to kill Kenna and Emory for leaving me to make all these,” she muttered. But suddenly, her face fell. “They found another girl this morning.”
“I know. Hayes told me about it at the bar.”
“On a first name basis with the bartender, are we?” She quirked a brow. “Grey, do you have a friend?”
“No, I was just out of whiskey because you used it all. But word is already spreading around town. Did you feel anything last night?”
“No.” She shook her head, staring at the pile of dirty dishes in the sink.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.” I moved, trapping her between my body and the counter. “I want to know what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours. Even your darkest thoughts.”
“What if this is my fault? Like maybe it’s happening because my magic isn’t strong enough to help the souls.”
I placed my finger under her chin, lifting it until I saw those beautiful hazel eyes. “This isn’t happening because of you.”
“Another girl was murdered. Sacrificed. And we still aren’t any closer to answers.”
“I know. I can feel the magic stirring. Calling to whoever will answer. Whatever is happening is almost here.”
She swallowed hard. “I’m scared.”
“We’ll figure it out,” I whispered, gingerly placing a kiss on her lips.
The oven beeped.
I tightened my grip around her, refusing to let her go. Fuck the pies, I would let the world burn for this girl. What was a pie or two?
“Grey, they’re going to burn.” She pushed against my chest. “Where are they?” She frantically searched for the oven mitts I’d discarded somewhere in the mess as the oven continued to beep. “Where did I put them down?” she muttered, continuing to look.
I opened the stove, reaching in to remove the two pies with my bare hands.
“Don’t!” she shouted. “They’re hot, you’ll burn yourself.”
“I’ll survive.” The heat barely registered. “I couldn’t bear the thought of your precious pies burning.”
I placed them on the counter with the others. The tops of the pies had a golden hue.
She placed a kiss on my cheek, then began inspecting the pies. Sugar coated her hair as she moved about the kitchen with practiced ease.
“How many of these do you have to make?” I asked.
“As many as I can crank out.” The tension returned to her shoulders. “Mr. Whitethorn will be expecting at least a dozen.”
CHAPTER 33
LYRA
The fall festival was one of the town’s oldest traditions, and my favorite time of the year. The leaves, bonfires, and crisp autumn nights woke something in my soul.
The smell of cinnamon filled the car. Pies slid around in my trunk as I carefully turned down Main Street. Two pies sat in my passenger seat because Grey told me, in very colorful language, that he wouldn’t be attending the festival. I didn’t blame him, but it was important that I kept up appearances and acted as if nothing was wrong. Which meant baking the pies and showing up.
By the time I got to the festival, the parking lot was already full. I circled the lot slowly, hoping a spot would open up. For once, luck was on my side. An old Honda Civic backed out of a spot. It was smaller than I originally thought. Parking my giant SUV in these tiny spots was never easy. It took me three tries to get between the white lines, and I barely avoided contact with the car to my right, but I did it.
The boxes had shifted during the drive, but none of the pies appeared ruined besides a few crumbled crusts.
“Lyra, you can place them right here.” My entire body tensed as Mr. Whitethorn’s voice drifted from somewhere behind me. Iturned slowly, a small, tight-lipped smile on my lips, trying and failing to keep my hands from shaking.
“Alrighty.” My voice shook. Sweat coated my palms as he stepped closer, invading my personal space. I tried to keep my features neutral, pushing down the paralyzing fear. His eyes narrowed like he could read my thoughts. No, I was just being paranoid.
