Cupcakes, Trinkets, and Other Deadly Magic (Dowser Series) Read Free Page A

knife from a large stone I’d found on a remote hike outside Lillooet, and another year struggling with the spells I’d wanted to temper it with. It was practically unbreakable and would cut through pretty much anything now … well, anything I’d tested it on. Why I needed such a knife, I didn’t know. I just wanted it. Gran hadn’t questioned it, and had even supplied me with spells from her personal spellbooks on request. Some of the items needed to perform those spells had taken months to secure, and I took classes on how to wield the knife while waiting. It was the length of my forearm, just thicker than my thumb. It was perfect.
    The vampire was perched on my Juliet balcony. My jaw dropped and stayed down. He was leaning against the ancient iron railing, which was in no way rated to take his weight. Juliet balconies weren’t meant to be stood on. He crossed his arms and looked at me. Coolly assessing, completely unruffled, though he had just climbed — or jumped — two storeys.
    “Vampire,” I said, naming him before I thought it best to shut my mouth.
    He tilted his head and said, “Witch.” I could hear him clearly through the glass, and hoped that was because it was single paned and not because he was somehow in my head.
    The same wards that protected the bakery protected my apartment. Actually, the wards here were stronger, more focused. They were anchored to the walls and windows, covering the entire inside perimeter of the bakery and apartment. No one could enter the apartment without being invited by someone keyed specifically to the spells, such as myself or Sienna, who had a habit of living with me between boyfriends. Whereas the wards on the bakery had to allow human customers through. Anyone with a bit of magic in them had to request the right to purchase my baking, though once keyed to the ward they could come and go.
    My pulse was loud in my ears. I wasn’t sure that had ever happened before. I wished I’d gone to that yoga class … though maybe the vampire would have just followed me there, where I’d be unprotected.
    My hand involuntarily strayed to the necklace I wore. I also collected vintage wedding rings, pairs if possible, all magically imbued. I soldered the rings like charms on a bracelet to a long, thick gold chain, also vintage. It wound three times around my neck easily. The magic in the rings was barely discernible, but still I collected them together like a magpie. I wore the necklace constantly, even in the shower.
    The vampire’s gaze stayed on the knife at my hip. I’d taken off my apron, the sheath worn over my jeans. The supposedly invisible sheath. He could see through my grandmother’s magic.
    The hair stood up on the back of my neck. He was old, then, and powerful. That was worse, even though it meant his control was probably unshakable — the bloodlust sated by centuries of drinking — because I didn’t know that the wards would keep him out.
    “What have you been up to, witch?” The vampire spoke so quietly that I barely heard him through the glass. Okay, so he wasn’t in my head. The wards were stopping that at least. As I tried to remember my lessons, I was pretty sure that that was one of a vampire’s talents. Along with immortality, strength, invulnerability, and the pesky need to drink blood for sustenance.
    I wasn’t too sure he couldn’t also hear the beating of my heart, or cut through witch magic like softened butter.  
    Belatedly, I remembered to not look him in the eyes, and he laughed as I tore my gaze away from his. He laughed like I was easy prey. Suddenly furious, I clenched my fists and glared at him. He wasn’t smiling; could you laugh without smiling? It was odd. If it wasn’t for his eyes, which were again locked to mine, he could have been carved out of stone. Dense ice, actually. Expensive jeans, cashmere sweater, and all.
    I stepped toward the window and lifted my hand to the latch without even deciding to move.
    He smiled then,