Page 9 of Air Of Mystery (Witches On The Hill #4)

The footage we’d captured at the restaurant in the historic district of old St. Charles was compelling. In fact, Larry and I went back a week later to share our findings with the owner, Jim, who had also agreed to be on camera for the reveal. And he absolutely loved it.

He confessed to me during the reveal that he had privately wondered if there was a motherly type of presence in the house. I recommended that he and the staff try addressing her politely in the future, and to simply acknowledge her whenever she made herself known.

Jim promised that they would, and he was so pleased with the investigation and our results that he insisted on Larry and I staying for dinner—on the house. Which was fun and the food was terrific. Afterward, Larry wanted another piece of that coconut cream pie, and I tried the peach cobbler.

Once we finished up our meal and drove back to Alton, it was late. Larry dropped me at the house, I waved goodbye and let myself inside. Hauling the equipment cases with me, I bounded up the main stairs to my third-floor attic apartment, full of enthusiasm.

By the time I added the footage of the reveal and Jim’s reaction to the previous material, I estimated that we would have enough to make two episodes for my YouTube channel.

After changing into a pair of ratty sweats and an old shirt, I stayed up all night, chugged way too much coffee, and worked on the footage, editing and fine tuning both of the future episodes.

Somewhere around four o’clock in the morning, I had to stop. I worked so long that I’d given myself a headache and also, I was starving .

The minute I opened the door to my attic apartment I could smell that Kenna was already baking for the day. With the hopes of being able to snag some sort of breakfast from my sister, I trudged downstairs.

The closer I got to the main floor, the hungrier I became. Whatever culinary magick my sister was conjuring up smelled amazing.

“Morning,” I said, swinging into to the kitchen.

Kenna jumped in surprise and pressed an oven mitt-covered hand to her heart. “You scared me. Didn’t expect anyone else to be awake or up besides me.”

“Worked on editing all night long and now I’m starving,” I said as I walked over toward the counter where she had various loaves of bread and pastries cooling on an assortment of wire racks. Eagerly I reached out.

“Hands off.” Kenna body blocked me. “Those are for the bakery.”

“Fine.” I pouted. “I’ll have a bowl of cold cereal.” Turning on my heel, I walked over to the pantry and yanked out a box of corn flakes.

While I shuffled around the kitchen grabbing a bowl, a spoon, and some milk, I bumped into Kenna no less than three times.

“Swear to god, Skye,” she huffed impatiently as we danced around each other. “Will you please stay out from underfoot while I’m working?”

“Sorry,” I muttered. Finally making it to the kitchen island, I plopped myself down and poured the cereal.

I began to eat and watched as my sister zipped around the kitchen, moving quickly while she took trays out of one of the ovens and slid more items right in.

She set her timers, checked off her tasks on her white board, and never skipped a beat.

“How did the reveal go with the owner of the restaurant?” Kenna asked as she began to remove cooling muffins from a tin.

“He was pretty stoked,” I said around a mouth of cereal. “We got some great footage. It was one of those rare investigations where you not only are able to document a lot, but we had fun too.”

To my surprise, Kenna placed a muffin beside my cereal bowl. “This is a new recipe,” she explained. “I’d like your opinion.”

I glanced down at the muffin. There were blueberries dotted across the top. It was more rustic and less fancy than the ones with the crumb topping Kenna usually made. “What kind of muffin is it?”

“It’s a blueberry cornmeal buttermilk muffin.”

I picked it up and held it to eye level. It was still warm and smelled terrific. “Smells good, and it looks pretty.”

Kenna nodded. “Yes, it has a good height and a nice crown. But I’m curious if it will be sweet enough for the bakery...”

I peeled off part of the muffin liner and took an experimental bite. My eyes closed in appreciation. “Wow,” I managed a moment later.

“You like it?” Kenna asked hopefully.

“Yeah, I’d like it better if I had some butter to slather on it.”

Her brow furrowed in concern. “Is it dry?”

“No,” I said, “it’s amazing. I’d still like to put some butter on it.”

With a chuckle, Kenna picked up the butter dish and a knife and brought them over to me. “Here you go.”

I sliced the muffin in half, loaded it up with butter, and dug in. “Oh, man.” I sighed happily.

“Did you forget to eat dinner last night?” she asked as I plowed my way through the muffin.

“Actually, Jim, the restaurant owner, treated us to dinner,” I explained. “It was great. I had peach cobbler for dessert. Which was pretty good. But they have a coconut cream pie there...and that’s an almost religious experience.”

Kenna walked back to me, holding a second muffin. “Was their peach cobbler better than my recipe?”

I eyeballed that muffin. “If I say no, do I get to have another one of those?”

“Maybe.”

“Yours was better,” I said honestly. “Their cobbler was missing something. It needed some spice—maybe some cinnamon.”

Kenna handed me the second muffin, and I gleefully dug in. A moment later, she was back and sliding a cup of herbal tea across the counter to me.

“Thanks,” I said over a mouthful.

“You drink too much coffee, Skye. I’m amazed that you still have a stomach lining.”

I rolled my eyes at that comment.

To my surprise, Kenna dropped down beside me on one of the barstools. “I’ve been meaning to ask you how things were going with Charlie.”

I picked up the cup of tea. “It didn’t work out.”

“What happened?”

“After you and Tyler went to the hospital, Charlie wanted to talk. He had questions.”

Kenna cringed. “And how’d that discussion go?”

“Not well,” I admitted.

She sighed. “I worried that the incident on Henry Street might have messed things up for you two. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I told her. “You called for my help, and I was happy to be there. Even though I was mostly just clean up and emotional support.”

Kenna gave me an elbow nudge. “Don’t downplay it. You helped me by dealing with all the questions from the police, so I could focus on Tyler.”

“It was nothing.”

“Not to me,” she argued.

“Well, you more than handled yourself,” I said. “From what I saw you pulled off some kick-ass protection magick. I’m proud of you, Kenna.”

There was movement in the doorway and my jaw dropped to discover a barefoot Tyler, wearing a pair of jeans and an unbuttoned shirt, standing in the doorway. “Good morning, gorgeous,” he said to Kenna.

Kenna’s smile all but lit up the room.

“Hey, Tyler.” I lifted my mug in salute. “Didn’t know you’d slept over.”

He stayed in the doorway. “Is that a problem for the family?”

I snorted out a laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. Tim used to stay overnight with Cordelia before they were married.”

Tyler entered the kitchen but instead of taking a seat, he swooped in and laid one on my sister. Sipping my tea, I sat beside them, waiting them out.

By the time he lifted his mouth from hers she was flushed. “I’m testing a new muffin recipe,” Kenna said, her voice husky. “Do you want to try one?”

Tyler slid onto one of the barstools at the kitchen island. “Twist my arm.”

Kenna popped up to go get him a muffin, leaving me with Tyler.

“How goes the ghost hunting?” he asked me.

“We had a great investigation recently,” I said, stifling a yawn. “I was up working on the footage all night, turning it into two episodes for my YouTube channel.”

Kenna brought Tyler a cup of coffee and a muffin on a plate. “Let me know,” she told him. A timer sounded and she dashed across the kitchen to go and remove the next round of baked goods from the ovens.

Tyler sampled the muffin. “You’ve got a winner with this recipe, Red,” he told Kenna a moment later.

Kenna nodded at the compliment. “I may try out a dozen of these at the bakery today.”

“Can’t lose,” Tyler predicted.

Shifting in my chair to look at him, I asked, “How are you feeling, Tyler?” He continued to wear the bracelet featuring eye agates at his wrist, I noted. My grandmother had given the protective piece to him while he’d been in the hospital.

“I feel great,” he said. “How about you? Because, Skye, you look beat.”

I batted my eyelashes at him. “You flatterer, you.”

Across the kitchen Kenna laughed.

“You’re so much like your sister,” he said to me. “Working incredibly long hours and busting ass, trying to prove to everyone that you can do it all by yourself.”

Deliberately, I fluffed my hair. “I assure you that I am more than capable.”

Tyler sent me a look. “Never said you weren’t. But it’s clear to see that although you may be capable, you are run down.”

Brushing off his concern, I stood. “Thanks for breakfast, Kenna.”

“Hey.” Tyler snagged my arm before I could walk away. “Do you want me to talk to Charlie for you?”

I looked pointedly at the hand that was loosely holding my wrist.

Instead of letting go, Tyler gave my wrist a gentle squeeze. “I overheard,” he explained.

“There’s no need for you to play big brother,” I told him, tugging my hand away.

“Skye…” Kenna’s tone was admonishing. “He’s only offering to help.”

“I can take care of it myself,” I said. Turning my back on the two of them, I walked out of the kitchen.

***

I managed a nap and woke up a few hours later feeling out of sorts and low-level bitchy for the way I’d acted with Kenna and Tyler.

Climbing from my bed, I discovered I was a tad wobbly, and that I ached all over.

Wondering if I was coming down with a summer bug, I headed for shower and stuck my head under the hot water, hoping for a miracle.