How (Not) to Play with Magic (A Cindy Eller Short Story Prequel) (Cindy Eller Snack) (2 page)

Read How (Not) to Play with Magic (A Cindy Eller Short Story Prequel) (Cindy Eller Snack) Online

Authors: Elizabeth A Reeves

Tags: #Fantasy, #Fantasy Series, #Romance, #Paranormal, #Witches

BOOK: How (Not) to Play with Magic (A Cindy Eller Short Story Prequel) (Cindy Eller Snack)
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“Um.” I thought quickly. “He can… use my bathroom?”

I really hoped he could manage it, hilarious as the idea of a dog sitting on the toilet might be.

The dog thumped his tail again in what I thought had to be agreement.

Starrie and Rainey giggled in unison, but showed the dog—er, Alex—the way to my bathroom where I assumed he would be taking care of business.

I really just didn’t want to know.

We headed back to the kitchen to wait for him.

I couldn’t help wondering how he was going to wash his paws… er… hands.

I didn’t have long to ponder about that because a loud shriek rang out through the house from that direction.

“Crap!” I shouted. “Jessi!”

My roommate and I shared a bathroom. I could only imagine what sight she had been treated to, stumbling into the bathroom in the middle of the night.

“What the heck?” she screamed. “Why is there a dog sitting on the toilet?”

I heard the twins sniggering behind me as I raced to reassure my roommate.

What was I going to tell her? Jessi had no idea that I was a witch—a word my mother had forbidden me to use all my life. We were ‘magical practitioners’. I had to come up with some sensible reason for a dog to be using our bathroom in the middle of the night.

The problem was, I couldn’t come up with anything that wasn’t completely ridiculous.

“He knocked on the door and needed to go potty?” That was ludicrous.

On top of that, I was going to have to explain how my fifteen-year-old sisters had just appeared out of nowhere.

Jessi stood in the hallway outside of the bathroom. Her pajamas were wrinkled and her eyes puffy, with a sleeping mask pushed up high on her forehead. Her exuberant hair, the legacy of an Irish father and a Kenyan mother, was pulled back in a riotous cloud of curls.

She pointed a shaking hand towards the bathroom door. “Please tell me that I’m still dreaming,” she told me.“I thought I saw a dog—a dog!—sitting on the toilet.”

I cleared my throat. “Um,” I said, “you’re not crazy, if that makes you feel any better.”

She just stared at me, with her hands on her hips. “Seriously?” she demanded. “That’s the only explanation you have for me? Since when do we even have a dog?”

“We don’t,” I said. “He’s… um… he’s my mom’s.”

Jessi gave me a doubtful look. “Your mother has a dog?”

I had to admit that wasn’t likely.

“He’s…” I searched for the right thing to say. “He’s my sisters’ responsibility.”

“That still doesn’t explain what he’s doing on the toilet!” Jessi said, throwing her hands in the air in aggravation.

I thought quickly. “Well,” I hedged, “you know how some people teach their cats how to use the toilet instead of a litter box?”

Jessi nodded suspiciously.

“My sisters are trying an experiment to see if dogs can do the same thing,” I finished in a rush.

“Oh.” Jessi thought about that for a moment. “That almost makes sense.” She shook her head. “Cindy, I’m sorry, but your family is really weird.”

I laughed in relief. “You have no idea.”

A flushing sound came from inside the bathroom and my step-dog appeared, wagging his tail at us briefly before disappearing in the direction of the kitchen.

“Super weird,” Jessi said again, shaking her head. She disappeared into the bathroom and let out a little shriek. “Cindy! Your freaking dog used all the toilet paper!”

 

I caught my sisters giggling when I went back into the kitchen.

“Maybe CROW isn’t a bad idea,” I told them. “Why did you have to drag me into this mess of yours?”

“Please.” Starrie turned on the waterworks. “You’re the only one we can turn to.” Her huge silver eyes shimmered beneath her tears.

Rainey followed suit and soon matched her name perfectly.

I groaned. “Fine,” I snapped. “I’ll see how I can help you. Just stop crying!”

The tears stopped flowing as if by magic.

I wondered just how magical they had been. My little sisters were powerful witches already—far more powerful than I was with my rather useless powers. “What have you tried to do to fix this?”

An hour later, we were no closer to the solution than they had been on their own. They had tried reversing the spell—nothing. They had tried a transformation spell to just change him back into a man—while my nails bit into my palms, that kind of magic was dangerous and terrified me. That didn’t work either.

Meanwhile, Alex sat calmly on the floor and wagged his tail from time to time, his eyes firmly on the chocolate cookies we were snacking on.

“No chocolate for dogs,” Rainey told him, digging into her miniature purse to pull out a huge dog cookie.

Somehow, my sisters had ended up with the brand new designer top-of-the-line magical purses that everyone was dying to get their hands on—well, except for those beings that were already ostensibly dead. These purses were truly magical—containing cornucopia spells.

I really needed one, but I probably didn’t have enough magic to activate the spell that granted the bearer what they needed.

My magic was only good for one thing—baking—and that thought reminded me that I was going to have to rush to get ready or I was going to be late to work.

I worked at Sugar High bakery—a neat little shop owned by the Davies, an older couple who had given me my first shot while I had still been in my pre-law program and all the way through my brief but useful stint in pastry school. They ran a tight ship, but let me experiment with flavors sometimes, as long as I kept up with their more traditional offerings like breads and cheese Danishes.

“I have to go to work,” I told my sisters. “I’ll see if I figure anything out while I’m gone. Just… stay out of Mom’s radar range, OK?”

They nodded in unison. They knew how Mom could be. There was no risk that they’d be flaunting our step-pooch under her nose anytime soon.

“Save us some cookies,” they called to me as they caught ahold of the scruff of Alex’s neck, swung their hands in the air in unison, and vanished.

I shook my head in envy.

 

Chapter Three

 

 

Tansy padded into the kitchen moments later, making me start. That was cutting it too close! We weren’t supposed to let Ordinaries like Jessi and Tansy know that magic existed. If an Ordinary found out… well there would be Hades to pay—and that would just be the first fine.

Tansy was the epitome of the goddess-next-door, with her long white-blond hair in pin curls and her lean frame dressed in a short baby-doll dress.

“You would not believe the weird dreams I had,” she muttered as she went to get her first cup of coffee—Tansy was not a morning person. “I dreamed your little sisters—you know, the twins—were here and potty-training a dog using the toilet.”

I laughed hollowly. “That’s silly,” I told her. “You must have eaten something weird before bed.”

She looked thoughtful. “Just that new ice cream,” she said. “I really hope it wasn’t from that. I thought it was awesome.”

“I have to get ready for work,” I told her quickly.

She nodded. “Can I catch a ride with you?” she asked. “The pink bug needs to go into the shop and I’m doing books for the Davies all day today.”

Pink-loving blond Tansy was a math genius.

I nodded. “Be ready in ten minutes,” I told her as I rushed to get ready myself.

My uniform was nothing fancy. I usually spent my whole day in the back kitchen of the bakery, so I didn’t have to look spectacular or anything. After my quick shower, I tucked my wild flyaway true-red hair under a kerchief, and pulled on my favorite ratty jeans and a black t-shirt, with a grinning skeleton on it sporting a pink bow on its head. I slid my feet into my most comfortable shoes. They were not cute, but I would be on my feet pretty much straight for the next ten hours.

Bakery work was challenging, and the Davies had just let their other pastry chef go, so it was all on me.

Good thing I loved my job.

After that, it was just a matter of collecting Tansy and we were on our way.

Ten minutes later, I was unlocking the door to the bakery and gathering giant blocks of butter to soften on the counter.

Two minutes after that, I was pounding stiff dough I had pulled out of the fridge—left to rise overnight—and the flour and magic were flying.

The hardest part about working at Sugar High was keeping my magic a secret. Baking was pretty much the only time my magic worked at all. I never burned anything, and I had more than usual luck with things like soufflés that could give a pastry chef issues. To my eyes, there was always a distinct sparkle in the air when I was working.

Which was why the Davies and my roommates—who were also my coworkers—thought I was an ultra-secretive baker. I just couldn’t afford to have them see me working my magic.

Once I had the usual offerings done, I could turn my attention to mastering my brownie recipe. That was motivation enough to multi-task as much as was possible.

At seven, Jessi came into the bakery and I could hear her opening the bakery to the public. We had a few very loyal customers that liked to get certain items, like fresh croissants, from us.

Right on time, Tansy appeared in the back to take the tray I had just pulled out of the oven.

“These smell great,” she told me.

I wanted to tell her how much I wanted to mess with the recipe and try something new, something that had never been tried before, but it was our morning rush and no time to be spilling my dreams and wishes into her ears.

I knew what I would be doing with croissants, given the chance. I was itching to try a combination of Mexican chocolate, cinnamon, and chipotle as a filling for the flaky, crispy dough with the soft interior.

As far as plain old ordinary croissants went, mine were pretty perfect… thanks to my magic.

It was late morning, almost afternoon, before I even got the chance to work on my brownie recipe.

I thought that it was nearly there after about a month of really trying to perfect it. I knew that I was close, but I wasn’t quite happy with it yet. I wanted it to be the epitome of chocolate decadence. I wanted every bite to be an experience that set people’s eyes rolling back in their heads.

So far, my brownie was a blend of three kinds of chocolate—the perfect mix of milk chocolate, semi-sweet, and an incredible dark chocolate that I had to order special. All of the chocolates I used were high-grade stuff. I didn’t want anything but the best in my perfect creation.

I also had included some lightly toasted Macadamia nuts. I’d found that the toasting process kept the nuts tender and risk-free for teeth.

It just needed something more; something that would turn the corner from really good to insanely good.

I frowned as I mixed my batter and poured the brownies into the tray. I’d already put a hint of cinnamon in the brownie, just enough of a touch to enhance the chocolate. What would really push it over the edge? Sea salt sprinkled over the top hadn’t been quite right.

What it really needed was a pop of texture, like biting into a really good truffle.

I frowned in thought. There was an idea!

I reached for my ingredients and started whipping up a ganache that featured the same three chocolates as the brownie itself. When the brownies were cool I would cut them into cubes and dip them into the ganache for that little bit of texture, that delicious shell on the outside. I added some chipotle, cinnamon, and coconut cream to the ganache to give it a subtle richness and spice.

The resulting brownies were a huge hit.

By closing time, we had completely sold out and I had a bunch of special orders for dozens of my brownies for the next day.

At Jessi’s urging, I had named them ‘Road to Bliss.’

“These,” Tansy told me, taking one of the mini-brownies I had stashed in the back and popping it into her mouth, “are the best brownies I’ve ever had. They’re like… truffles, but more robust.”

I beamed at the praise. I was pretty happy with my creation, especially as it was exactly that—my very first creation!

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