Besphinxed Page 9

He had no idea how much he could trust Heather, so he took all her words with a grain of salt. “If you’re lucky, you’ll never need me to save you again.” Owen shook his head. “Unfortunately, I don’t think we’re that lucky.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that we can’t let the Arachne—Miss Sunshine, whatever—find out about your feather.”

  He let his words hang in the air, waiting for all the pieces to come together for her. When it happened, she raised a hand to her mouth.

  “Oh, goddess,” she said behind her manicured fingertips. “You think she wants to get her spidery hands on my feather?”

  “The Arachnes want to get their hands on any Fury feather,” said Owen. “They see nothing but their own need for vengeance. A Fury’s feather is a means to that end. And if Miss Sunshine doesn’t have to kill the Fury to get one, all the better for her.”

  Heather’s porcelain complexion went even paler. “What happens to me if she uses my feather to exact her own justice on someone? If someone else loses their life because of some stupid mistake I made…will I die too?”

  “I don’t know,” said Owen. “I’m not sure anyone knows—not even Kai. This is uncharted territory. But if anything happens to you…”

  Heather reached across the table and took his hand. Kai often did the same thing, at this same table, but her touch didn’t elicit the same kind of electric shock that Heather’s did. Owen assumed it was because of their connection through the feather, or that time she’d stowed away in his memories.

  “I’m not asking you to rescue me. I’m a clever girl. I can hold my own.”

  Not only was Kai powerful, but she also had a village of people that supported her. Heather had not once mentioned her parents, her sisters, or any of her so-called friends. Had she been facing every problem of her life to this point all by herself?

  “You shouldn’t have to do anything alone.” Owen didn’t let go of her hand. “I want to help you. It’s just…I’m no good at this.”

  Heather laughed a little. “How would you know? We’re in uncharted territory, apparently. But I’m game to bring the thunder if you are.”

  Owen shook his head. “You’re going to be disappointed.”

  “Fine,” said Heather. “I’ll expect disappointment. That way, when this is all said and done, I’ll either be right, or I’ll be pleasantly surprised.” She squeezed his hand. “Try to surprise me, will you?”

  Those eyes of hers were like bright blue glass.

  “Why are you so nice to me?”

  Heather shrugged. “Fate’s already got a gun pointed at me, and her finger’s on the trigger. If she has tied our lives together for some unknown reason…well, I don’t want to cross her if I can help it.”

  Kai had said much the same thing.

  Owen summoned enough courage to entwine his fingers with Heather’s. “You know, here in this booth, without anyone else around, I kind of enjoy the thought of us together.”

  “I know,” whispered Heather. “But if you tell anyone, I may have to kill you.”

  “Is it a rule that every girl who sits here must threaten the life of my busboy?”

  Owen yanked his hand out of Heather’s. José’s talent for popping up unnoticed was unmatched.

  “What do you want, José?”

  The cook slid a gray plastic tub between them. “I want you to clean the three tables that emptied out while you’ve been having your little chat. And then I want you to bring your girl in the back. I have a surprise for you.”

  “I’m not his girl,” Heather said quickly.

  “Really,” José scoffed, with the same intonation Heather had used earlier. Owen had forgotten that José could hear every word spoken at this table from his vantage point in the kitchen. Now Heather knew, too.

  Owen bussed the tables quicker than he ever had before in his life. He plopped the plastic tub down beside the sink, gave humming Dina a quick peck on the cheek, and sped back to the booth where an exhausted Heather waited.

  “After you, madam,” he said, only mostly out of breath.

  The surprise José had waiting for them in the kitchen was counter space, a hot oven, and a bunch of ingredients. “It’s a slow night,” he said. “Thought you might want to try screwing up a few batches of cookies while there’s no one here to smell them burn.”

  Owen turned to Heather. “I’m game if you are.”

  Heather ran a hand over her eyes. “I don’t know…”

  “This kitchen is my domain,” said José. “While you’re back here, you can pretend that you’re the only two people in the world, free to do as you please without worrying about what the future holds, or what any other teenager in Nocturne Falls will think. You are safe here.”

  “A safety bubble,” said Owen.

  “That’s what I’m offering,” said the cook.

  Heather smiled at José, put a gentle hand on his shoulder, and nodded. “Okay.”

  Owen smiled too. Everything they needed to work on and a space inside which no one else mattered? José was a god.

  Then again, Owen was unsure about many of the staff’s paranormal natures (it was rude to ask, Kai had said). It was entirely possible that José actually was a god.

  Owen took Heather’s hand and kissed the back of it playfully, because no one ever had to know. But then he dropped her hand completely. Tonight was not about making out; it was about trying to see if they could work together without killing each other.

  “What do you say, magic girl? Me, you, and a few terrible batches of cookies?”

  “You’re on.” The idea of freedom—even if only for the next hour—had lifted her spirits, too. “Let’s make a mess.”

  But first, they had to prep. Owen started sorting through the ingredients and taking inventory while Heather looked up recipes on her phone. She sat on top of the counter, legs swinging like a schoolgirl. He snuck peeks at her while she was distracted. If he’d never met her before this moment, he’d think she was just a sweet, fun, enthusiastic and helpful girl. A girl who liked him. And he liked her. Later tonight, they could go back to being an attack witch and a scaredy cat. Right now, he just wanted to exist in the moment. Enjoy it. Flirt, even.

  Great Scott, did he even remember how to flirt?

  His stomach did a backflip. Flirting was a human interaction. He had to stop putting things in the context of human interactions. In order to process this, he needed to think like a cat. Cats were mercurial, yes, cryptic, definitely, but above all, they were lovers. Successful, affectionate lovers.

  The way Owen figured it, if he assumed Full Cat attitude and then dialed it back by about a billion, that would be the human equivalent of harmless flirting. He could do that. He hoped. He didn’t want to be another Duko Bardou.

  Heather groaned.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve given up on me already,” said Owen.

  Heather shook her phone at him. “I was prepared for there to be several dozen different recipes for chocolate chip cookies. What I didn’t count on were even more secrets on how to make our cookies the best.”

  “Looking up secrets on the internet,” said Owen. “Isn’t that cheating?”

  “Maybe if it actually helped,” said Heather. “Five hundred ‘secrets’ that no one seems to agree on doesn’t sound like a shortcut. It sounds like a rabbit hole.”

  Owen snapped. “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland,” he said. “I got that reference.”

  Heather bit back a laugh. “Goddess, you’re adorable. And really distracting!” She turned back to her phone. “I don’t know which of these secrets to believe. Any thoughts? Can we maybe ask José?”

  “That would be cheating.” Owen gave the matter some consideration, once she finished pushing a strand of flaxen hair behind her ear and he could concentrate again. He wasn’t the only distracting one in the room. In the background, Dina sang a tune in undine language that sounded like a love song. That didn’t help either.

  “M
aybe we should make a list,” he suggested. “We could put tick marks next to which secrets were mentioned most often. Then we try the most popular secrets first.”

  “How very scientific of you,” said Heather. “But that’s so much work. Since tonight we are expressly here to ruin a few batches, which I am confident that I will do, why don’t we just pick one and go? We’ll just worry about chilling and creaming and whipping and frothing next time we….what?”

  Owen shook it off. “All of that sounded really dirty and I’m trying to focus on the task at hand.”

  Heather pat him on the head. “Good kitty.” She hopped down from the counter and put on one of the old Mummy’s Diner aprons José had left out for them. Owen was mildly surprised that she didn’t flinch at donning a stained, worn-out apron that had seen more than its fair share of kitchen disasters.

  Here in their bubble she was not head cheerleader or the rich-witch Princess of Harmswood, she was just a girl named Heather. Owen really, really liked this Heather. The crazy thing was, Kai would have really liked her too. But he couldn’t think about Kai. As tough as it was to let them go, thoughts of Kai weren’t allowed in the bubble.

  He stuck his finger in the flour and dabbed it on her nose. “There,” he said. “Now you’re ready. What’s first?”

  “Make sure the oven’s at the right temperature and grease those cookie sheets.” She looked down at her phone. “I’ll throw all these ingredients together and see what happens.”

  Any other time it might have angered Owen that she’d barked orders at him like he was a member of her cheer squad. To be fair, he had asked. Just this once, Owen didn’t mind letting Heather take the reins. As she measured out and stirred the first batch, a small part of him was concerned that she’d nail it the first time. Then they’d have no reason to come back here and try again.

  There was no need to worry.

  Half an hour later, they had a bunch of extremely flat cookies in varying shades of overdonness. They didn’t smell too badly, so they hadn’t completely screwed up.

  Heather took a bite of one of the cookies that was least burnt. “It tastes like nothing,” she said. “I mean, I guess it tastes like a cookie, but not a good cookie. It’s not necessarily bad…”

  “If it tastes like nothing, that’s bad. Granted, I’ve had worse in the dumpster out back.”

  Heather chuckled. “Even your compliments are disgusting.”

  “We could always use them for weapons against the Arachne.” Owen took one of the cooled cookies and tapped it against the side of the oven. “A few of these are substantial enough to break teeth. If we threw them hard enough…”

  Heather folded her arms across her chest. Normally, when she made a move like that, it was cause for concern. Anyone within earshot braced themselves for whatever vile thing was about to spill from Heather’s mouth when she stood that way. But tonight, Owen was not afraid. She shoved the empty bowl at him. “All right, mister. You think you’re such a cool cat? Next batch is yours.”

  Obligingly, Dina washed out the bowl for Owen. “Good luck,” said the undine. One of her watery blue eyes winked at him, and she began softly warbling a new song. Thankfully, this seaborn ditty was a little more upbeat.

  Owen had been watching Heather closely that first time, and not just because she was pretty. Her cookies had been spread too thin. He’d put a giant lump of batter on the cookie sheet this time, and maybe turn the oven heat down. Bake them for longer. As for tastelessness, he decided to increase the quantity of sugar and chocolate.

  “Interesting tactic,” she said as he generously spooned the batter onto the sheet.

  “At least they’ll be edible,” he said. “And far tastier than yours.”

  They did not taste better. Nor did they spread out into a uniform thickness while baking. The edges were burnt and the middle was undercooked. Owen could tell they were a disaster the moment the timer went off and he pulled the cookie sheet out of the oven.

  Heather pursed her lips and studied the ruined mess. “Magnificent,” she said in mock seriousness. “You should open a shop! Give Delaney a run for her money.”

  “You’re a brat,” he said.

  “Born and raised,” she shot back and grabbed a new mixing bowl off the counter. “My turn again.”

  “You seriously think you can do better?”

  There was a wicked gleam in her eye. “This time we are going to cheat.”

  The hair on the back of Owen’s neck raised again, accompanied by chills of both fear and excitement.

  Heather wiped the counter clean, then sprinkled a light dusting of flour across its surface. She closed her eyes and placed her fingertips to her chest, whispering something as if in prayer. She raised her hand to the sky, finished whatever she was saying, and then opened her eyes. In the flour on the table she drew a circle, perfect and closed. Inside she drew a star, each point reaching the edge of the circle. On top of the star she placed the mixing bowl.

  “Eggs,” she said to him.

  One by one, he brought the ingredients to her. One by one she added them according to the recipe, leveling off each measuring cup and spoon before dumping them into the bowl. When she stuck the large wooden spoon inside the bowl, it stood up on its own and began mixing itself, like magic.

  Exactly like magic.

  Owen understood now. Magic was the cheat. Heather was a witch, and magic was her wheelhouse. Goodness knows she looked lovely doing it. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were overbright. Her chest rose and fell in deep, even breaths and her hands danced in the air around the self-mixing spoon. Standing over the bowl in that worn-out apron, in the kitchen of a place he now called home, Heather Hayden was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

  And she felt more out of his reach than ever.

  Heather was leagues above him in power, money, looks, popularity…the list was never-ending. He was a cat-cursed street rat out of his element—out of his own time. What were his worldly possessions? A bunch of school books and a few Mummy’s Diner polos. Who was his family? A handful of diner employees that had not asked for his presence. What were his powers? He could shift back and forth into the form of a cat…but who knew how long that would last once the Arachne sisters were done with him. If they were ever done with him. The only thing he’d used his power for was to spy. Hide. Run away. He had nothing to offer her but what…his devotion? Her friends gave her more than enough of that. He refused to give Kai up, so he couldn’t even offer his loyalty.

  The woman in front of him was a goddess, and he was pathetic.

  Was there really supposed to be some grand plan behind them being brought together by Merri and Bright? No way. Fate was taking the Mickey Bliss. He had no business with Heather. Fate should have known that. Kai certainly did.

  When these cookies came out of the oven, Heather waved her hand over them and whispered something. Then she plucked one right off the burning hot sheet and lifted it to his mouth, offering a bite to him like a lover might.

  As badly as Owen wanted to indulge in their perfect little romantic bubble, he knew he shouldn’t.

  Owen took the cookie from her hand and shoved it in his face. It was the perfect temperature, perfect consistency, perfect taste, perfect everything. “Sublime,” he said. Because it was. Lost in the ecstasy of the cookie, he groaned and took two more.

  Heather laughed and took a bite of her own. “Oh, yes. This is more like it,” she said. “We may not be able to use magic to make the cookies for our project, but now we at least know what they’re supposed to taste like. Except…”

  “Are you kidding?” Owen said with his mouth full. How could anyone find fault with this exquisiteness?

  “…this chocolate is terribly sub par.”

  Owen rolled his eyes.

  José appeared beside the table. “Only a stupid chef would let neophytes practice with the good chocolate,” he said. “I am not a stupid chef.”

  “Want a cookie?” Owen offered the pan
to José, only because he knew there was a full sheet still left in the oven.

  “Later,” said José. “My dear, I believe your friends are here for you.”

  Her eyes locked with Owen’s. “Bubble over,” she said, with what almost sounded like regret.

  “Bubble over,” he replied in the same tone.

  José packed up a dozen or so of the cookies in a to-go bag for her. Reluctantly, they exited the kitchen together.

  The other two Gothwitches stood by the door, hands on their hips. Every item of clothing they wore from head to toe was black, just like Heather, as if it were a uniform. Poppy’s pigtails were tied with black ribbons. Oleander wore sunglasses, even though it was the dead of night.

  “You were supposed to come straight back to the dorm after your trip,” Poppy said to Heather. “We’ve been looking all over for you.”

  “Didn’t realize you’d be slumming it downtown with the hoi polloi,” sneered Oleander.

  “It’s this stupid project,” Heather said. “If it weren’t for that ridiculous substitute, this would be a non-issue. But I can’t let my grades slip. You know how Daddy is.” She retrieved her purse and pashmina from the booth in the back, passing by both Owen and José without so much as a glance. “Wait until I tell you about the insanity my sister pulled this weekend…”

  The front door chimed and closed behind her as the three witches exited the diner.

  “She forgot her cookies,” said José. “And she didn’t even say goodbye.”

  “Bubble over,” Owen repeated, with more sadness than he’d felt in a very long time. It was time for a lot of things to be over. “Thanks, José. For everything.”

  José pulled a cookie out of the bag and took a healthy bite. “Thank me by clearing table fifteen.”

  8

  Heather couldn’t sleep a wink.

  She was bone tired and exhausted to the core of her being, but her mind rocketed through the night like a magic missile.

  Poppy and Oleander, on the other hand, had far too much energy between them. Oleander had used her family’s account to hire a Ryde to drive her and Poppy to the diner. The three of them took the same route back to Harmswood. The chatter had been non-stop the whole way.