Chapter Four
A n hour later, I carefully studied Rowena’s face as she took her first bite.
“Damn,” she remarked, breaking off another piece and popping it in her mouth. “You really are an excellent baker. These are even better than your original batch.”
That’s because they’re not a day old and stale, I chuckled to myself.
Rowena slowed her chewing and swallowed, a sad frown on her face.
“That’s the problem, though,” she sighed.
Panic gripped my stomach. What’s wrong with them?
“What do you mean?” I asked, struggling to keep my voice from being high-pitched.
Rowena paused, holding up the scone and inspecting it under the dim glow of the café lighting. “It appears to be a perfectly normal pastry. I thought having you bake would bring out some of the dormant magic in you… if you had any…”
“ Magic ?” This time my voice was high-pitched. “But I’m a human.”
Yes, a perfectly normal human. Not a werewolf. Werewolves don’t have those kinds of magical abilities.
“About that…” Rowena walked to the counter and set the half-eaten pastry on a tiny rose-patterned plate. “I’m sure you’ve always assumed you were human. But there’s a slight problem… you shouldn’t be here in the first place.”
“What do you mean?”
“This whole village is warded.” Rowena gestured toward the door. “No one except witches can get in or out.”
I could practically feel the blood halting in my veins. What is she talking about? I’m not a witch. Is my werewolf magic somehow letting me through? Gods, what if she finds out…?
My mind was reeling, and I clutched a sweaty palm to my aching forehead. I needed to quell my anxiety, or my ears and tail would pop out right in front of Rowena.
Calm. I am calm. I exhaled gently through my nose. Deep breaths.
“I’ve always suspected the wards are faulty, though,” Rowena continued.
The knot in my stomach loosened a fraction of an inch.
“A spell is only as strong as the witch that casts it, and our resident warden witch is young and inexperienced. We’ve had issues in the past with the local werewolf pack being able to break through on full moons. ”
Local. Werewolf? Pack!?
My stomach was sinking before, but now it had plummeted out of my body onto the hardwood floor – uncomfortable and panicked and scrambling to get away from this place.
This news posed several problems. If the werewolves were able to get through, that explained why I could as well, and it was only a matter of time before I was caught.
Plus, I knew my father, as our Alpha, had at least some connections with other werewolf packs in the area.
If another werewolf saw me and reported to their Alpha, the news could get back to my father.
Not only would I be revealed as a fraud to the witch village, I’d be dragged kicking and screaming back to Hollenboro.
And I knew what sort of life awaited me there. I couldn’t go back.
“It’s mainly just one werewolf though,” Rowena continued.
My internal panic had prevented me from keeping up with the conversation, but that sentence immediately snapped my attention back to Rowena.
“A large, red-furred one. We call them Big Red. They’ve been causing issues every full moon for years, breaking through the barrier and letting other werewolves through.
There’s been injuries, and… well, never mind.
Anyway…” Rowena forced a smile. “I’d love to officially offer you the role of resident kitchen witch at The Lone Wolf Café. I’m assuming you’re still interested?”
Crap. Crap crap crap.
I needed this job. I didn’t know where I’d be able to find another one. Fellow werewolf packs didn’t accept outsiders, witches hated our kind, and humans feared all magical beings. My options for fitting in somewhere – at least not without faking my identity – were sorely limited.
“I… uh…” I stuttered, noting I’d done so numerous times since arriving at this café.
I couldn’t make up my mind. But thankfully, at that moment, I didn’t have to. We were interrupted by the chime of the bell above the door, and Rowena’s attention immediately shifted to her new customer.
The woman stepped timidly through the door, her eyes flicking to every corner of the room.
She appeared to be in her mid-twenties, and had lightly tanned skin with short, loosely-curled blonde hair pulled back from her face.
Her appearance was completely different from Rowena’s, as not a single piece of her outfit was black.
Instead, she wore a loose sky-blue dress with a thick, turquoise-patterned shawl slung over it.
Bands of necklaces with little skulls and crossbones hung heavy on her neck, and both wrists were adorned with bracelets made from various crystals.
But she had one of the most distinctive articles of clothing a witch could wear – a wide-brimmed pointed hat.
Except hers was the same color as her dress.
Like Rowena, she was very pretty. But as the witch turned her head, I noticed a set of thick, deep scars trailed down her cheek and ended at her jawline.
My throat clenched.
Those look like… werewolf claws…
“Hello, Rowena,” The witch greeted with a small nod and a wave. I noticed she didn’t smile at Rowena. She seemed strangely cautious of her.
“Hello, Juniper,” Rowena replied with the same stoic greeting. I realized I was still standing awkwardly next to the counter, and I quickly retreated to one of the high-backed chairs near the fireplace. I didn’t want to interfere with Rowena’s business duties.
“Do you have it ready?” Juniper asked, shifting her bag on her shoulder.
“Oh, yes, I do,” Rowena scurried behind the counter, digging through her supplies and pulling out a small cloth bag, no larger than a coin purse. “Ginger and chamomile, just like last time.”
“Goodness, thank you,” Juniper exclaimed. I could hear the relief in her voice as Rowena handed her the bag across the counter. “My migraines have been killing me lately.”
“I know,” Rowena sighed. Based on their conversation, I assumed Juniper suffered from migraines for a long time. “This new batch of chamomile is spelled to help with inflammation. And ginger is an antiemetic, so it’ll help with the headache-induced nausea you’ve been having.”
“I appreciate it,” Juniper smiled faintly.
As Rowena scrawled in her notebook and calculated the total for Juniper’s order, I noticed the blonde-haired witch’s eyes were wandering across the room.
And because I was being nosy and peeking out from behind the high-backed chair, her gaze eventually locked on me.
“Oh, hello,” Juniper greeted with a shy wave. I tensed my body to keep from looking startled. “Was I interrupting something?”
“Oh, no, not at all,” Rowena replied, setting her pen next to her notebook.
“But I would like to introduce you two. Nettie, this is Juniper, the High Priestess of Wisteria Grove’s coven and our resident crystal witch.
Juniper, this is Nettie. She’s new in town, and is going to be the kitchen witch for The Lone Wolf Café. ”
I gulped, quietly cursing Rowena in my head. Looks like the decision has been made for me.
“Pleasure to meet you.” Juniper smiled. “You’re a kitchen witch?”
I nodded, careful not to make the motion seem forced or robotic. But on the inside, I could feel my nerves tingling, and it took several long, deep breaths to reassure myself I was fine and my ears and tail were not going to pop out again.
“That’s so exciting!” Juniper clapped her hands together.
From this angle, I could see the full extent of her scar.
There were three lines across her cheek, each at least several inches long, and deep enough to be shiny and pink.
Clearly it had been a gruesome injury, though I didn’t want to be that person who stared too long.
“We’ve needed a kitchen witch for a while,” Juniper continued. “Ever since Rune left… it’s been tough. We witches love our sweets! If you don’t mind me asking, what sort of pastries do you make?”
“Well, I…”
“She made these blueberry scones this morning,” Rowena interrupted. She grabbed the plate off the counter and placed it next to the register. “Here, try one.”
I gulped when Juniper picked up a pastry.
Are you sure this is a good idea, Rowena? She’s going to know there’s no magic in them…
“My goodness, those are delicious!” Juniper exclaimed, happily helping herself to another bite. “We’ll have to write to Rune in Boston and let her know her replacement is giving her a run for her money.”
“Careful,” Rowena warned. “Rune will take offense and come marching back up to Maine to prove us wrong.”
Both witches chuckled, but I noticed once the laughter ceased, the awkward tension between them returned.
I could feel it seeping into my own mind, flowing like river water between the three of us.
It mystified and intrigued me, and I wondered what sort of history the two witches had with each other.
“Anyway, how much do I owe you for that scone?” Juniper asked.
Rowena waved her hand, as if shooing a fly away. “No charge. But be sure to tell the others about our new kitchen witch. We’ll have plenty of pastries to sell.”
“Of course!” Juniper exclaimed as she collected her tea purchase and handed Rowena a handful of coins. “I’ll be boasting about these scones to every witch in town!”
Juniper turned to me, and when I forced a smile, my mouth felt like it was made of rigid iron.
“And Nettie,” she said as she walked toward the front door.
“Our coven is having an esbat on Tuesday. It was supposed to be on the new moon, but there was an incident, and… well, never mind. Anyway, it’s in the evening, shortly after nightfall.
You are welcome to come. Everyone will be excited to meet you! ”
New moon? That was a while ago. As a werewolf, I was just as much in tune with the moon cycles as witches were. I wondered what the ‘incident’ was that postponed it.
Whatever it was, based on Juniper’s tone, it didn’t sound good.
“Thanks,” I nodded, careful to show gratitude but not give a committal answer.
Juniper waved as she slipped out the door, and Rowena and I were once again alone.
“So…” I pressed my palms against my sides, cursing my dress for not having pockets. “I guess I’m the new kitchen witch now?”
Rowena nodded. I lowered my head.
“I don’t want to sound ungrateful…” I rambled nervously. “It’s just… I’m scared. Baking is my passion, and I do need the money, but it’s risky being here. If I’m found out…”
Rowena stepped towards me, stopping with mere inches of space between us. Her lavender perfume tickled my nose again, and I startled when she placed her slender fingers on my shoulder.
In the few hours of interaction I’d had with Rowena, we’d never made physical contact.
On the contrary, she seemed keen on her personal space, always keeping her distance.
Even through the cloth of my long-sleeve shirt, I could feel the faint warmth of her palm, and I remembered all the times I’d interacted with my father and sisters.
Werewolves were a touchy-feely bunch, always sharing hugs and smiles. Those things came naturally to me.
To Rowena, it clearly didn’t, but it made the meaning behind her touch even more palpable.
She was a strange witch, but for some mysterious reason, she was helping me.
Giving me a job. Promising my safety. I looked up, and was hypnotized by the curve of her cheeks and depth of her dark eyes.
Her gaze was firm, as if she’d known me for years, and on her barely-parted lips was a faint smile.
“ I promise .” There was a grave heaviness to her voice. “I will not let anyone hurt you. You’ll be safe here. No one will find out your secret.”
Then, as swiftly and surprisingly as it began, Rowena removed her hand from my shoulder and walked back behind the counter. I was left standing there, even more perplexed than when she first offered me the job.
She cared for me. Someone she barely knew.
And it wasn’t just her words that told me so – I could feel it in my own heart.
When her fingers met my shoulder, it was like a conduit for her emotions to flow into me.
Beneath her unassuming exterior, a fierce, protective aura radiated from her soul – one I hadn’t felt so strongly since I was back on Hollenboro with my family.
But all I could decipher were emotions, not the meaning of them. And I had a feeling she knew things that I didn’t. Things she couldn’t tell me.
Now that I was the resident kitchen witch for The Lone Wolf Café, I was determined to be the best baker I could be. I wanted to fill the display cases every morning with my creations, only to watch them disappear into the hands of happy customers by the end of the day.
I had another goal, too. I watched Rowena as she fluttered around the kitchenette, boiling water and refilling the loose-leaf tea jars. I could tell she was in her element. She was happy.
She was also baffling. She’d initially been pissed I’d barged into her café, and from what I’d seen in the past few hours, her personality was reserved and quiet. Based on her interaction with Juniper, I assumed she kept her distance from others.
Despite all those things, she’d embraced me like an old friend, looked me dead in the eye, and swore my safety with the solemnity of a blood oath.
Rowena was a walking contradiction of a witch.
And despite my better judgment, I was determined to figure out why.