Free Spells and Scones by Bailey Cates Page B

been chosen by the ladies of the spellbook club, each witch somehow knowing that a particular book might help a Honeybee customer. A few had even helped me, though not always in the way one might think a book helpful. Other books had been supplied by Honeybee customers who wanted to share what they’d been reading. I’d wondered at first whether Croft would view a super-informal lending library like ours, right next to his bookstore, as competition. He’d taken one look at the eclectic contents and assured me with a small laugh that there was no overlap.
    The amber walls around me reached to high ceilings. Fans suspended from the dark beams kept the air moving. The single burnt orange wall behind the register heldthe tall blackboard where we listed the rotating menu items. I loved the color combination with the blue-and-chrome tables and the shiny kitchen mostly open to public view so patrons could see us making the pastries they loved.
    Of course, that open design also meant any hedgewitchery had to be performed with discretion.
    I returned to where Iris bent her head over a cookie, pastry bag in hand. The tip of her tongue protruded from the corner of her mouth in concentration. I smiled at her earnestness. We’d hired her a few months before, a Goth girl with spiked black hair, black clothes, and black fingernail polish. Or so we thought. Since then she’d gone natural with her makeup and grown her hair out enough to form a stubby ponytail for work. The month before, she’d dyed it flamingo pink in honor of National Breast Cancer Awareness.
    She inhaled deeply and a grin broke across her face. “Mmm. The allspice is so intense, but I can still detect the milder taste of ginger, too.”
    â€œRemember that allspice is uplifting and healing,” I said.
    The first time I’d met Iris I’d known she had power, and it hadn’t been long after she came to work for us that Lucy and I revealed the special elements we added to our baked goods. She’d asked us to train her in kitchen magic, and, delighted that the universe had sent her to us, we’d happily complied.
    Now she nodded. “And ginger speeds and intensifies any spell. Do you have an incantation?”
    I shook my head. “Not yet. Why don’t you make one up?” In truth, Lucy and I didn’t use incantations all the time, instead simply directing our intention into the food as we mixed and formed and baked, with the knowledgethat we were triggering and intensifying the natural magical elements of the herbs. It couldn’t hurt, though, and Iris needed the practice.
    Her eyes lit up. “Just . . . make one up? Really?” She did a little two-step. “What should I say? I mean, I’ve noticed sometimes yours and Lucy’s rhyme, and sometimes not.”
    â€œIt doesn’t really matter how you say it, or even the specific words you use, as long as you get your point across. Spells focus intention, and the verbal aspect of them simply narrows that focus to intensify their power. Your power.”
    She pointed her finger at me. “Right. Okay, let me think about it.”
    I nodded with a smile. “Okeydoke. But do it quietly—and don’t take too long. I bet customers are going to snarf up those cookies with their morning coffee.”
    The phone rang, and I grabbed it off the wall behind the register. “Honeybee Bakery.”
    â€œKatie? Quinn. I tried your cell.”
    â€œI forgot it in the back,” I said, scooting through to the office and shutting the door for a little privacy. Mungo was snoozing on the club chair where he reigned most days. “You’re up early.”
    â€œNever made it home.”
    â€œOuch.” And yet I knew he’d look fresh and cool, no doubt in one of the starched shirts he kept at the office. “Dr. Dana?”
    â€œYes, though there’s only so much I can do during the night on that. There’s