Sandy nodded slowly. "That makes sense.” He paused. "There aren’t but a few left. Declan put them away."
"That’s probably for the best.”
"Probably," he agreed.
Across the room, Declan was helping Rue pack up the remaining food. He was moving quickly with his head down, and I had no doubt he was beating himself up over the whole thing.
I crossed to him.
He looked up when I reached him. "I didn't mean to," he said immediately.
"I know."
"I was just angry about all the lying, and I added the sage which the muffins needed, but then I said if I could have one thing, people would stop lying, and I guess I had that intention, and you know Elwood always says intention is everything so that must’ve been my intention, and I was stirring the?—"
"Declan."
He stopped.
"You found out who made the hexes, without anyone getting hurt. Accidentally with muffins.” I held up the container with two muffins in it. “Elwood is going to be unhappy that you spelled people without their permission, but he’ll also be really proud of the fact that you managed to do it.”
Something loosened in his face. "You think?"
"I do, and I think he's going to tell the story at every misfits’ meeting for the foreseeable future."
Declan let out a breath that was mostly a laugh. He took the basket from me and tucked it under his arm. "I’ll still need to talk to him. About the sage and the magic, and, well, everything.”
"Tomorrow," I said. "Tonight, let’s go home.
He looked at me for a moment and then nodded.
"Yeah," he said. "Okay."
Chapter Twenty-Three
Truth Muffins Aren’t Just for Poker Players
Declan
I was ruined.
How many people knew my muffins were the baked equivalent of a truth serum? Some of the non-magical poker players might blame the sudden wave of honesty on alcohol, but the magical ones would know what really happened.
Was this the same as hexing? It felt the same. I’d manipulated other people’s behavior with magic. Using magic to make people do things they wouldn’t normally do was what dark witches did, right? Which meant I was one ofthosekinds of witches. Someone who dabbled in awful terrible things.
Gideon thought Elwood would be understanding, but what if…
Magic like that was punishable, right? That’s what everyone had been hinting at when talking about the hexes. So, what would happen to me? Would Elwood have to get another mage to bind my magic? Because, as my grandfather, I wasn’t evensure he could do that kind of spell on me. Maybe my dad was right to live his life like magic didn’t exist.
I rubbed my chest as Gideon opened the door to his apartment and waved me inside. Licorice was already perched on the window outside Gideon’s living room. I couldn’t even look at her. I felt too guilty. What would happen to her when I was punished for my baking disaster? None of this was her fault. I’d make sure everyone knew that. I had to protect her.
I made sure to keep the Muffins of Truth—or did Truth Muffins sound better? Whatever I called them, they would be capitalized forevermore in my head when I thought of them—away from Gideon. I wasn’t even sure why I’d brought them with me. I should have tossed them into the garbage, but I needed to know where they were until I destroyed them.
My hands trembled as I set them on Gideon’s dining room table like they were a bomb, ready to explode with the slightest provocation.
“Hey, it’ll be okay,” Gideon whispered as he pulled me into his arms.
I dropped my head to his chest and squeezed my eyes shut. “How can it be? I made magically manipulative muffins.”
