Dreaming of the Demon (Hidden Hollow)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

“ H appy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday, dear Celia, Happy Birthday to me,” I sang sadly under my breath before blowing out the candle on the Strawberry Supreme cupcake, which was my personal favorite and a best seller at the bakery I owned. Then I just sat there looking at it—I didn’t even have the heart to take a bite.

I was turning forty and I was all alone—no husband, no kids, and no family at all besides one estranged brother I hadn’t seen in years. I was officially in what my Great Aunt would have called a “blue funk.”

“It wouldn’t be so bad if I was at least dating someone,” I muttered, as I pinched off a piece of my birthday cupcake. It was delicious as always, but that didn’t lift my spirits. “I mean, I’d even settle for a hook-up at this point. Just a quick, one-night stand would work. At least it would be something.”

But it seemed like no one was interested in hooking up with a curvy, plus-sized bakery owner who was edging into middle age. Middle age—God!

I slapped the kitchen table and stood up, unable to stand sitting still anymore. I started pacing the black and white checked tiles of the roomy kitchen. It was my favorite space in the old, rambling Victorian house my Great Aunt Gertrude had left me in her will. She had left me her bakery, The Lost Lamb, too and I had been running it successfully for the past five years.

But running a successful small business means you have almost no time for yourself. And that goes double for owning a bakery—especially in a magical town like Hidden Hollow where Creatures with big appetites live side-by-side with the few human inhabitants.

I have to make quadruple batches of every recipe because your average Orc or Minotaur or Centaur will inhale a dozen donuts in two bites and then ask for more. And don’t get me started on my hubcap-sized cinnamon rolls, my Frisbee-sized chocolate chip cookies, or my mountainous blueberry muffins—not to mention the enormous fifteen-layer Devil’s Food cakes I make on Saturdays only because they take so much time and oven space.

But baking for supernatural beings—Creatures as they call themselves—is only part of living in Hidden Hollow. It’s a special place—a small New England town located in the Berkshires Mountains.

A magical bubble around the town keeps non-magical folk out. It also keeps the outside world’s weather at bay. Years ago the town council took a vote and everyone agreed that their favorite time of year was Fall—peak leaf season to be exact. So now it’s almost always Autumn.

I say “almost” because there are a few exceptions. In May we have a whole month of Spring. In August it’s Summer, and in December it’s Winter with big, feathery snowflakes that collect in gorgeous drifts, but never on the road, because that would be inconvenient. Every other month of the year it’s Autumn and except for the constant leaf raking—which most folks around here manage by magic—it’s amazing.

Hidden Hollow is a beautiful place to live and I hadn’t regretted moving here a bit…until now.

Now I had to wonder if I had done the right thing when I accepted my Great Aunt’s invitation—which came in the form of a cryptic greeting card with a picture of a fresh baked loaf of bread on the outside and the words, You are the Only One who can Help Me! Please Come—Love, Aunt Gertrude, in her untidy scrawl inside.

At that point I’d had only a very vague notion of who my Great Aunt was. My Mom had mentioned something about her once—she had apparently disappeared mysteriously when she was in her thirties. She left an unhappy husband and a troubled marriage behind but no kids. In fact, according to my mother that was one reason Great Aunt Gertrude’s marriage was so unhappy—she didn’t want children and made no secret about it.

“She just never had any use for them,” my mother said, shrugging. “After she disappeared, they tried to say that Great Uncle Lou killed her but they never found her body, so they couldn’t make it stick. He moved out to California and married again and had three sons and two daughters, so I guess that made him happy.”

“But what happened to Great Aunt Gertrude?” I asked, focused on the mystery that surrounded my long-lost relation.

My Mom shrugged.

“Nobody knows. It was strange too—she disappeared in the middle of the day and didn’t take a thing with her. One minute she was in the kitchen making supper for Uncle Lou and the next minute she was gone. He said he smelled burning and ran in to see what was happening because Great Aunt Gertrude never burned anything. In fact, her cooking and baking were wonderful—he always said it was the only reason he stayed with her.”

“So what happened?” I asked, impatient with the tangent she’d gone off on. “Where did she go?”

“Nobody knows, but she left a batch of her famous butter rolls in the oven to burn and didn’t take a thing with her,” Mom said. “Not a single piece of clothing—not even her purse or a sweater. She just vanished in the middle of a regular, ordinary day and she was never seen again.” She sighed and got a sad look in her eyes. “It’s a shame I didn’t get some of her recipes before she went—she made the most mouthwatering pastries. I remember looking forward to her lemon cream tarts and her apple hand pies all year.”

So that was all I knew about my Great Aunt Gertrude until I got the mysterious card in the mail. The minute I read it, I wished I could call my Mom—but she and my Dad were long gone by then. Dad died of lung cancer—he never could quit smoking—and my Mom just kind of faded away a year afterwards. They’d always been extremely close and though it didn’t make any medical sense, I had the strong feeling that she’d died of a broken heart. That was the kind of love I was looking for…but I had never found it.

I have a younger brother, as I think I mentioned before, but we aren’t close and there was nobody else to call. I sat there reading and re-reading the card and finally I said aloud,

“I’d help if I could, but she didn’t even leave me an address or a phone number!”

At that point, it was like an invisible finger tipped in fire began drawing in the empty air in front of me. I stared in shock as it formed a door…a door which opened onto a beautiful Fall landscape even though it was blazing hot summer outside my own front door.

The minute I walked through the doorway—because of course I did—I was greeted by a little old lady with sparkling blue eyes, much like my own, and pure white hair done up in a fashionable twist at the back of her head.

“Oh, there you are!” she exclaimed, holding both hands out to me. “I’m so glad you agreed to come help!”

It was my Great Aunt Gertrude, of course. She had also received a magical invitation to Hidden Hollow, much like the one she’d sent to me. And since she wasn’t happy in her marriage to Great Uncle Lou, “All that man wanted was food and sex and someone to clean up after him! I was tired of being his maid and his cook and his whore and not getting paid in anything but insults and complaints!” she said—she stepped through the doorway just as I had and found herself in Hidden Hollow.

Great Aunt Gertrude explained to me that only humans who have magic or Creatures—who are magic by their natures—are able to live within the magical bubble that protects the town. I protested, of course, that I had no magic at all.

“Nonsense!” she said briskly, frowning at me. “I’ve been watching you for ages—you never burn anything and everything you bake comes out perfectly. Doesn’t it?”

“Er, well…I guess so,” I admitted. I had never given this much thought before. It wasn’t like I baked for a living back then, though I had always had a passion for it. I had a business degree and I was working at an accounting firm—a job that was duller than dirt but paid my bills and kept a roof over my head.

“Your bread dough always rises, your croissants are perfectly laminated, your pie dough is flakey, your biscuits are fluffy, and your cookies are just the right texture—a little crispy on the edges and chewy and gooey in the middle,” Great Aunt Gertrude continued. “Right?”

“Right,” I agreed. “But I don’t see how being good at baking means I have magic.”

“It means you’re a Kitchen Witch!” my Great Aunt exclaimed. “Just like I am—just like our ancestors before us.”

“I don’t know,” I said doubtfully. “My mom wasn’t particularly good at baking or cooking. She hated making dinner—we got pizza and Chinese take-out more than any other kid I knew growing up.”

My Great Aunt waved her hand impatiently.

“It skips a generation sometimes. I’m just glad you happened to get the talent, my dear, because I’m tired of working and I need someone to leave my bakery to.”

“Your bakery?” I said blankly. “What bakery?”

“Why, The Lost Lamb, of course. I named it after myself, in a way,” she said. “Since I was kind of like a poor lost lamb when I got here. I was called by the magic of Hidden Hollow just like I called you, but there was no family here to greet me when I came.”

“Then who called you?” I asked, frowning.

“Oh, why, the Town Council of course. They decided that a bakery was needed and they did a magic finding spell for a Kitchen Witch of the right bloodline who would be capable of running it and who was unhappy enough in her regular life to leave everything and come here to stay.” She spread her hands. “So, here I am! And here you are too—you wouldn’t have answered my call if you had wanted to stay in the Mortal Realm.”

“Um…” I thought of my boring job and the fact that I wasn’t dating anyone and hadn’t in almost a year. The dating apps are all trash—somehow they never come up with a decent man. (I think their algorithms do that on purpose to keep you hunting.) Anyway, all I had been getting were narcissists and gaslighters and Momma’s boys who wanted me to do everything for them, including washing their underwear and packing their lunch every day, and I was frankly sick of it.

“Well?” Aunt Gertrude demanded again.

“What do you mean the Town Council wanted a Kitchen Witch ‘of the right bloodline?’” I asked, playing for time. “What does that mean?”

“Oh, our family, the Hatches, have been witches from the beginning. In fact, one of our ancestors comes from here—though she got hung for her witchcraft during the Witch Trials, poor thing. That was Hester Hatch, our many times great grandmother,” she explained. “But stick to the point—do you want to live here and run my bakery or not? I really want to travel some before I fade but I won’t leave it to anyone outside the family. I need another Kitchen Witch with Hatch blood to run it—and you’re the only one left.”

I thought again of my dull job and non-existent love life and made a choice right then and there to stay in Hidden Hollow.

Great Aunt Gertrude stayed in town long enough to get me started—almost a whole year, in fact. She was patient with me and introduced me to everyone in town—many of whom weren’t human. It took some time to get used to serving Centaurs and Orcs and Fairies and Pixies and all the rest, but I had been living in a big city with lots of diversity before I left and I enjoyed meeting new people so that helped.

My Great Aunt also advised me to get a familiar but I hadn’t gotten around to that yet. She had a cat herself, named Nella that I swear was as smart as a person.

As a witch, you can choose any animal you want for your familiar—a dog or a cat are the most popular choices because they fit neatly into your life. You could choose a horse or a pig or a cow if you really wanted to but good luck getting them into the house at night. You can even have a raven or a parrot if you want one you can speak to. But Great Aunt Gertrude advised against that.

“Bird familiars tend to be extremely sarcastic and they scare customers off, being rude and swearing all the time,” she told me. “A cat is wise and a dog is loyal. As a woman alone, you want a protector.”

“Why—isn’t it safe here?” I asked. Hidden Hollow seemed like such an idyllic little town—a place where no one even bothered to lock their doors at night and everybody knew everyone else.

But my Great Aunt gave me a dark look.

“It’s as safe as it can be, but my house is located on the edge of the bubble,” she said.

She went on to explain that the magical bubble that surrounded the town sometimes drew other Creatures—ones that weren’t welcome in Hidden Hollow because of their evil tendencies. Social convention kept them out of the town itself—the Town Council would have them forcibly removed if necessary—but they could still get in around the edges of the town limits because they were technically magical creatures so the bubble didn’t keep them out.

“You don’t want to run in a Giant or a Troll, you know,” Great Aunt Gertrude told me. “Or Goddess forbid an Ogre!”

“What’s wrong with Ogres?” I asked, thinking of the lovable Shrek and his sidekick, Donkey.

“They’re horrible Creatures—very bloodthirsty.” Aunt Gertrude shivered. “They would look at you the same way you’d look at an especially ripe plum—something tasty to eat. Just another ingredient, you know. You definitely want to steer clear of them—having a dog as a familiar would help with that. A dog can bark to warn you if anyone is prowling around the house. I mean, I have it warded so they can’t get in unless you let them in the front door, but you don’t want to get caught unaware if there’s an evil Creature lurking out there waiting to snatch you!”

Her words had scared me at first and I had been on my guard. But now, after five years of nothing more frightening than Chester the deaf Centaur stamping into the bakery and shouting loudly that he wanted three dozen double fudge brownies made with extra crispy hay—a common ingredient for Creatures who were part cow or horse—I had relaxed somewhat and my life had fallen into a pattern.

I got up extra early to take my morning walk and have some coffee and got to the bakery by five-thirty to start baking and prep work. We didn’t open until eight—that gave me time to get several batches of cinnamon rolls, blueberry muffins, and almond croissants out. Once I turned the “closed” sign to “open” I was constantly back and forth between the register, the oven, and the workspace in the back, baking and helping customers while I worked on the other pastries and cookies the Lost Lamb was famous for.

I closed at five on the dot and spent the next few hours making dough for the next day and cleaning up—luckily my Great Aunt had given me a spell that handled most of the cleaning—and then I went home around seven, had dinner, and did it all again the next day.

It wasn’t easy but I normally loved my routine. I had always enjoyed baking and thanks to the spells my Great Aunt had left me for cleaning and for multiplying basic ingredients—I had a doubling spell that I used at least fifty times a week—it was profitable as well. But the town had been growing lately—the magic bubble swelling to accommodate all the new magic users and Creatures who were moving away from the Mortal Realm where things were getting awfully crazy.

Lately things had gotten too busy for just one person alone to run The Lost Lamb so I had hired some help—a Natural Witch called Sarah. She had moved to town after her Grandmother’s will called to her and she was now living on the far side of Hidden Hollow.

Sarah had a bit of Kitchen Witch in her as well—she loved to bake and nurture people—so she was a perfect fit for The Lost Lamb. She’d been introduced to me by one of my regulars, an Orc called Rath, who had turned out to be her Heartmate.

I think it was seeing Sarah and Rath together that was making me so blue—that and the fact that I was turning forty. The two of them were so in love with each other you could practically smell it in the air when they got together. (It smelled like marzipan if you’re wondering.)

Up until then, I hadn’t missed having a man in my life. Like I said, the ones I kept matching with on the dating apps were all horrible and my daily routine was extremely busy. But when I opened my eyes on the morning of my fortieth birthday and realized that I was still single and I probably wasn’t ever going to meet my own Heartmate, I began feeling blue. I had taken my birthday off to do something special…and now I realized that I had no one to do anything special with. It really sucked.

“It’s not just Sarah and Rath,” I muttered as I paced around the kitchen. “It’s those damn dreams I keep having! What’s wrong with me, anyway?”

The dreams had been coming steadily for the past six months—but the crazy thing was I couldn’t remember them very well. I just woke up all hot and bothered with a sense of longing filling me. I would have chalked the whole thing up to perimenopause but Madam Healer, the town doctor who treated every one—both human and Creature—in Hidden Hollow, had given me magical herbs to fend it off.

Besides, the dreams left me with more than just hot flashes—I had a feeling like someone had been touching me and giving me pleasure, bringing me almost to the brink of coming right before I woke up and everything faded away—including my dream lover, whoever he might be.

“It’s those damn dreams!” I muttered again, still pacing. “If I could just stop having them, I’m sure I’d be happy again. After all, I have a wonderful life! I own my own bakery, which is very successful. I have friends and a fulfilling career that I love—I mean it’s way better than working in the accounting firm.”

I stopped pacing and stood in front of the small mirror hanging on the kitchen’s far wall. A full-figured woman with a plump but pretty face, big blue eyes, and long golden-brown hair stared back. Sure there were a few crow’s feet forming at the corners of my eyes and there were laugh lines around my mouth but I hadn’t found a single gray hair yet—probably because my hair was already a light color but so what? It still counted, right?

“I don’t look half bad—for my age,” I went on. Listing my attributes and successes was one way I cheered myself up when I was feeling down. Only this time it didn’t seem to be helping. Nevertheless, I kept trying. “I’m a strong, beautiful, intelligent woman and I don’t need a man or a Heartmate to be happy. I need to stop feeling sorry for myself!” I concluded, giving my reflection a stern look.

But it was easier said than done. No matter how I lectured myself, I still felt blue. Having finished my affirmation, I was about to sit down and pick at my birthday cupcake again, when the front doorbell rang.

I really wasn’t in the mood for company. I was thinking of just ignoring the bell when I heard a familiar voice calling my name. Sighing, I turned to answer the door.

I had no idea what I was about to let into my house or how it was going to change my life forever…