Page 15 of Witchbane
Liam tugged me inside, closing and locking the door behind us. I made my way back to my little station. I hoped he hadn’t smelled Al out there. With the crisp cool air and the dumpster, it was unlikely.
I thought about bringing up Al right that minute, but needed to stew on it for a bit. Maybe talk to Sean and Dylan first. Sean and I had become fast friends. Since we were both dating werewolves it was a lot of camaraderie, but he’d also been teaching me self-defense. His absence the past few weeks I’d attributed to him working through stuff with Dylan, as he hadn’t been around either. Mental health was important, and I understood that better than most. Dylan had more than a touch of PTSD from his time being held captive by Felix. And from what I’d heard from Liam, it sounded like it had gotten worse lately, the shorter days of winter and the cold bringing memories he didn’t quite know how to handle.
Maybe I’d make them something. Bring a batch of cakes to the auto shop. See if I could get the guys talking, or smooth over whatever weird tensions had risen lately.
Despite the late time of year and the strong scents of apple or pumpkin being in the air, I decided to go with a light spice cake. Not the traditional heavy, nearly pound cake recipe with German frosting, but a light, almost angel food type texture, and a maple glaze. It sounded good. Smelled good as I whipped it together, doing my best to stay out of everyone’s way. While whatever I made could be sold in the bakery, I wasn’t scheduled, and didn’t have a “block” of the bakery counter space doled out to me.
There was something really satisfying about whipping egg whites to a stiff peak and folding in the other ingredients. Even if it took longer by hand, it gave me something to focus on.
“What kind of pans do you want?” Liam asked as he passed, shoving a tower of rolling bread toward the proofing room.
“Mini Bundt pans?” I asked, wondering if they had them. Having only evolved, after I’d arrived in town, to adding more pastry items than just a few handcrafted donuts, some scones, and muffins, I wasn’t sure the bakery had a lot of molds. But Liam reappeared with a large set of fist-sized Bundt pans and a couple of baking sheets to put them on.
I washed the set, sprayed them with a bit of nonstick spray, then filled the pans, carefully making each tin even with the rest. Liam reappeared to take the pans to the ovens.
“Cook time?” he inquired.
“Think angel food,” I said.
He frowned at me but took the trays, calling out to the actual certified bakery chef, Adair, “Cook time for angel food? Mini Bundt size?”
“Twenty minutes or so, rotate halfway through,” I heard Adair shout back. I guess not everyone knew normal cook times on random bakery items.
“Sorry,” I told Liam as he returned for the next tray. I whipped up a batch of regular angel food too, finding large molds for those in the stack of other baking pans.
“For what?” he asked.
“Not telling you how long they needed to cook. I guess it’s not in everyone’s head like it is in mine.” I leveled off the big molds. “These will take up to an hour.”
“It’s fine. If Adair didn’t know I’d have looked it up.” He leaned over to kiss the side of my head and then whisked off with the large pans.
Dylan appeared in the kitchen as I was setting up another set of the larger tins for muffins and began to whip together a Boston crème blend I knew most of the pack fought over. He looked like hell, but I’d never been more relieved to see him.
“Wow,” I said.
He gave me a tired look. And I felt that hard, because I sort of thought we were twins even though he was blond and tall, lanky like a cowboy, and I was short and built like the fox I could be. He plunked down into the chair beside me. We both looked like we’d been put through the wringer a half dozen times.
“You’re making the Boston crème cakes?” he asked hopefully.
“Will you eat them?” He looked like he hadn’t been eating enough. Bad for a werewolf as their body needed high amounts of protein packed calories to survive.
“Yes.” His expression seemed a little sour. “Maybe later. Need more coffee.” He didn’t have any in hand. He sat and watched me make the crème cakes. There were no fudging ingredients on these. No substitutes for gluten or sugar replacements. Nothing could replicate the taste, texture, and sweet dense cream cake, even if it was only in muffin form. I couldn’t eat a whole cupcake myself; it was too sweet for me. But the wolves loved these.
“Need to talk?” I didn’t really have to ask. If he was in the kitchen hanging out with me that was his entire reason for being there. “You look like shit.” Sometimes I found the wolves liked that I was blunt, even if it wasn’t always kind. Carl usually threw snark back at me. A lot of the pack did. Dylan sort of shrunk in on himself, which made me feel bad. It wasn’t something he normally did either. Usually it was a smile, a swagger, and a teasing statement about how Liam needed to keep my mouth full.
But Dylan actually looked almost as bad as when Felix had been torturing him. Why hadn’t he healed better? He was silent for a long time watching me work, even while I hoped he’d tell me whatever was happening with him and Sean and Al.
He swayed a little, and I realized he was caught up in the comfort of my omega magic. I never did it on purpose. It was a thing that happened when I was comfortable and happy. It would spread through the pack, starting with those closest to me. He seemed to half doze as he stared at the muffin tins.
“Are you okay?” I asked, hoping not to startle him.
“Tired.”
“Yeah? Seems to be going around. You dreaming of ghouls and opening portals in your sleep too?”
“Nope,” Dylan drawled. “Portals?”
“Liam didn’t call you to help hunt ghouls with them?”