The Knowing (Monsters of the Yeavering #3)
Kaitlyn
I’m sure I’m being watched.
Except I’m in the middle of the busy bakery, Gloriana is pulling a fresh batch of bread from the ovens at the rear, and the shop at the front is thronged with patrons. I don’t think I’ve stopped since we opened.
“Here you go.” I hand over a package to an elderly witch. “Three loaves, one with caraway, and do you want anything sweet today? We have meringues, muffins, hinnies and…” I pause deliberately. “…a few melbas left.”
Her eyes light up, her face losing ten years at least.
“Peach?”
“Always.”
“You are an absolute temptress, Miss Kaitlyn.”
I lean over the counter. “Takes one to know one, Miss Mary.” I wink.
She laughs as I pop a peach melba, a small cream- and peach-filled pastry topped with fondant into a small box and add it to her order.
Once she’s paid, I move onto the next customer and collect the items they want.
So all eyes are on me, or at least there are plenty of witches and warlocks looking at what I’m doing, as well as chatting among themselves, so of course I’m being watched.
Still, I can’t take the prickling feeling up my back which suggests someone, somewhere is creeping on me, rather than waiting in line for some baked goods.
By the time we get to mid afternoon, I’m exhausted and very pleased to turn over the closed sign on the door.
Gloriana bustles through, looking as fresh as always, despite her stints with the hot ovens. Her blonde hair is in tight coils and she has a bright red apron, the same as mine, wrapped around her. Only hers is covered in flour and dotted with grease spots.
“Well done,” she says, surveying the mostly empty shelves.
“Hey, this isn’t me. It’s down to you and your talents,” I say with a smile.
Gloriana was the witch cook to Lord Guyzance, producing proper food not magical conjurings for those who he didn’t need to impress, before he met his fate at the hands of the Barghest, the black dog of death who took souls for the Reaper and who is now mated to my human friend, Wynter.
I don’t think I’ve seen a happier couple, and I have her to thank for releasing me from the enforced servitude at the foul hands of the Faerie Lord, allowing Gloriana to set up this shop and to employ me as her assistant.
“You might say that, but I see we have none of the sweets left,” Gloriana says, her sharp blue eyes missing nothing. “You told me they’d be popular, and they are. You have a talent for baking even if you won’t admit it.”
My cheeks colour at the compliment. I’ve never been spectacular at taking praise, and my pale skin coupled with my auburn hair means I blush at every opportunity. Sometimes there doesn’t even need to be a reason.
“I’m just good at selling,” I say.
“But if you weren’t good at baking, they wouldn’t come back,” Gloriana trills as she walks away through the bakery to the room at the rear, our parlour.
I follow her because the feeling of being watched grows stronger the second I’m alone. Once we’re in the room, I close the door and silently release a sigh of relief.
My friend climbs the stairs to her room, and I hear the creaking of the ancient floorboards as she moves around upstairs while I take off my apron and hang it up before swinging the big, heavy cast iron kettle over onto the hot plate of the squat black range in order to boil some water for tea.
Gloriana comes back down in a clean red and white spotted dress just as I’m pouring out water into the teapot, and she drops into one of the squashy armchairs with a happy grunt.
“Just a quick cuppa for me,” she says with a smile. “I have to go out.”
I look a bit closer and see the dress she’s wearing isn’t any old thing—it’s one of her best.
“Suppliers?”
“Sort of.” She gives me an almost girlish smile. “I need to get a better rate on our sugar supplies.”
It’s impossible to know how old Gloriana is or hazard a guess at any of the witches’ or warlocks’ ages here in the Yeavering. Their innate earth magic means they can pick and choose how they want to appear to the world, even if they need spells to perform most other magical tasks.
Spells, should they wish to do the more powerful air magic, they are reliant on the Faerie to provide.
And now the whole of the Yeavering is in turmoil over the swift exits of some of the most powerful Faerie. When I say exits, I mean they were reaped by the Barghest and won’t be returning to this world, to rule over it or for any other reason.
The bakery Gloriana has opened is a distraction for the inhabitants of this strange, magical region, beyond the veil between here and the human world.
A human world infiltrated by the Faerie, offering their poisoned assistance to a world in disarray following a virus which threatened to wipe us out. Their cure came at the highest of prices. A life for a life. And that’s the reason I’m here.
“So these, suppliers”—I poke my tongue into my cheek—“would they be tall, with a beard and a cellar filled with wine? Possibly called Harold?”
Gloriana titters. I pour her out a cup of tea into a china cup painted with roses. I guess I have my answer.
“I’ll prep for tomorrow,” I say, pouring out my own drink and dropping into the chair next to her. “The peach melbas were very popular, so I’ll make some more.”
“You should get out and get some fresh air, rather than haunting this place,” Gloriana says. She puts her hand on my arm and gazes at me. “Guyzance is gone. No one has any hold on you, Kaitlyn. You are free. They won’t take you again.”
I’m sure I hear a growl, but it’s difficult to say if it’s coming from her or not.
“I know. It’s hard going from one reality to another, especially…” My words trail off.
“Because you can’t go home?” Gloriana heaves out a sigh, her big bosom lifting and falling. “I really wish it was possible. I know you want to see your sister. If there was any way I could help…”
I grab her hand and squeeze it. “You’ve done more than enough, giving me a home and a job. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you.”
“I’ve told you time and time again, my sweet, you owe me nothing. It’s bad enough the Yeavering allowed any of this to happen to humans in the first place.” She gives me a big smile before getting to her feet and picking up a basket filled with baked goods.
“Enjoy your date,” I call after her.
Gloriana gives me a look which could freeze hell, but I’m used to it the same as she’s used to my sass.
“Witches do not go on dates,” she says before her handsome face breaks into a big smile. “But I’ll enjoy myself nonetheless.”
The door clatters shut behind her, and I’m alone in the bakery. I sip my tea and steel myself for the feeling to cover me once again.
It has to be the Yeavering getting to me. I’ve been through too much to be scared of nothing. I drain my cup and drop it into the saucer with a clatter before getting to my feet and pulling my apron back on.
Whatever spirits await me in the bakery, I will face them with a whisk and a sharp knife. Let’s see how they like that.