Flour eggs sugar and mag.., p.1
Flour, Eggs, Sugar, and Magic, page 1
Table of Contents
Blurb
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Text
About the Author
By Daniel de Lorne
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Flour, Eggs, Sugar, and Magic
By Daniel de Lorne
Wannabe witch Will Brand’s attempts at making magic cookies for the kids at a local shelter go awry when his ex-boyfriend messages and turns Will’s good energy to anger. Will has no idea there’s anything wrong with the cookies until his hunky roommate, Lucas, scarfs three of them, cursing himself with bad luck, unfettered hate, and ill health. In a race against time, Will must find a way to break the spell before accidents, ex-lovers, and a sudden illness make this Christmas Lucas’s last.
To my dear friend Dion, whose passion for food and cooking is truly inspirational (and as far as I know he’s never poisoned anyone).
Acknowledgments
MANY THANKS to TJ Nichols, Nikki Logan, and Glen Lo for their invaluable feedback.
WILLIAM BRAND had all the ingredients laid out in front of him. The oven was heating, and the sacred circle—though a little shaky—covered him, the kitchen counter, and the oven. The protective sphere would contain the magic he raised, intensifying it like sunlight through a magnifying glass and imbuing the space with power and intent. But the magic seemed the easy part.
Making three types of cookies was the bigger challenge.
He measured out cups of brown and white sugar into three separate bowls, whisked in melted butter, eggs, and vanilla essence, then sifted flour and baking soda, all done while checking the recipe multiple times before adding the next ingredient. They were just cookies, but his past baking experiences hadn’t always been successful, and these had to be perfect. Not only because he wanted his gift to the kids at the Rainbow Shelter in Eugene to be edible, but because he wasn’t sure if the magic he put in them would be effective if they crumbled.
He focused, sweat dripping down his back even on this freezing December day. It was Winter Solstice, holiday of rebirth and renewal, but also the shortest day of the year and the longest night. Darkness abounded, spirits roamed, and the temperature plummeted. Getting to the store had been a test of endurance. Like Christmas, the Solstice celebration involved gift-giving. He figured there’d be more power if he made the gifts by hand, rather than grabbing premade cookies off the shelf.
In the first bowl he added cocoa and chocolate chips, in the second peanut butter and peanuts, and in the third rolled oats and raisins, but the magical ingredient would make all the difference. Double chocolate for good luck, peanut butter—his favorite—for love, and oatmeal raisin for good health. Those kids needed—deserved—all three. No matter how much time he spent at the shelter, whether he was cleaning rooms, helping get residents into long-term accommodation, or just talking to them, he always wanted to do more. Working elsewhere as a waiter took up more hours than he cared for, but every spare moment, he was at the shelter. Especially at this time of the year.
He closed his eyes and centered himself with a few deep breaths. He couldn’t think about what the kids must be feeling with no home to go to over Christmas. He couldn’t think about how he’d be there on Christmas Day serving turkey and potatoes. He couldn’t think about how he’d be feeling as alone as they would this year. It took a couple more breaths to wrestle his mind into a safe stillness.
Then he was ready.
He stirred the ingredients clockwise, holding one word in his head per bowl—luck, love, or health—repeating it over and over, blocking out everything else. He went nine times around for each, scooped out twelve servings of each dough, and rolled them into balls. He placed them on parchment, holding his intention in his head as the trays filled—
His phone shrieked on the counter, shattering his focus and dragging his attention to the flash of his ex’s name on the screen. He scrunched his mouth and nose. What the hell did he want? If only Cal could see him now, messing around with magic. Four and a half years ago he’d shown Cal the spark he could make by rubbing his thumb and forefinger together and Cal dismissed it as static electricity. Cal didn’t understand how it felt jolting through Will’s body. Sure, that’s what electricity did, but it was more than that. It was something different, something he could do. Magic existed, but Cal called him crazy, and so Will stopped and lost the spark.
Along with everything else.
Cal left six months ago, but rage hummed through Will’s body at remembering how he’d allowed himself to be controlled and manipulated, how he’d bent to Cal’s will for so long while his so-called boyfriend charged through without a care.
The only care Cal ever had was for himself.
Power coursed through Will’s arms and into his palms as he rolled the dough. Righteous rebuttals to old arguments barreled through his head and found their release in the air streaming through his nostrils.
All those wasted years!
And Cal still hounded him, demanding repayment for tuition, rent, and groceries, and to hand over a box of stuff he left behind. Their roommate Lucas had taken possession of it months back and was meant to give it to Cal. Not his problem. Only there Cal was, invading his phone.
He clamped his hand tight and mashed the ball of dough until it oozed out of his fist. His ears prickled with the heat in the small kitchen, the hair on his skin raised in the localized power.
What was he doing?
He barked a harsh breath and peeled his hand open. He scraped the remains of the dough off his palm and reformed it into a ball. He couldn’t let Cal get to him, not now, not ever again. He was gone. He’d chosen to leave. Will cracked his neck, rolled his shoulders, and breathed easier. He put the ball of dough onto the tray, then reached over and flipped his phone, flicking it to silent. He’d deal with Cal later.
He refocused his intention on the cookies—the temperature in the kitchen now much higher with the oven at 375—and finished doling out the dough. He was nearly done, but there was one final piece of the spell to go. He held his hand over each tray, speaking aloud “Luck,” “Love,” and “Health.” Power flowed out of his outstretched hands and sealed the magic into the cookies, setting off a thrill that tingled over his scalp. He shivered, put the trays into the oven, and set the timer for ten minutes.
He took down the sacred circle, clapped to dispel the vestiges of the magic, and cleaned the kitchen. It soon filled with the smell of baked goodness, his heart rising out of its mellow mood.
The timer beeped, and he pulled the trays from the oven. His mouth watered at the mixed aromas, and the cookies looked so delicious he almost scoffed one right up, hot from the oven. Didn’t he deserve a little love too? But he refrained and left them to cool. He picked up a red apple from the counter, took a bottle of water from the refrigerator, and grabbed his phone. His lips crinkled as he reread Cal’s demands and went into his bedroom to find the best way to tell his ex to go to hell.
WILL LEFT the message from Cal unanswered. What could he say that hadn’t already been said? Even if he wanted to repay Cal for the money he’d spent on him during their relationship, he didn’t have it. He earned barely enough to cover his rent. Cal would tell him to use his accounting degree and get a “proper” job, but that would never happen.
And then there was the box of stuff—a jacket, a watch, jeans, a couple of books, a pair of sunglasses. After six months, why was this junk so important?
Even though Will didn’t reply, he lay on his bed staring at the screen, scrolling through old messages, hunting for the ones that had been kind and nice and loving. None came from Cal. Five years of texting, and he struggled to find one that showed why they stayed together. Even back at the beginning. Why had he kept them? Hope, maybe? Hope that he hadn’t wasted all that time and love on someone who didn’t return it. Hope for what it could have been.
Well, he was done. With a firm finger, he deleted all the messages and blocked Cal’s number. If he wanted to argue, he could come do it in person. But until then, Cal would no longer affect his life.
The grand gesture out of the way, he felt lighter than he had in days. Months! He couldn’t ignore the possibility that part of that was because of the energy he’d spent performing the spell. He’d restored a little with the apple, but his stomach growled, demanding more. He checked his watch. He had a few more hours before he headed to the shelter. That would give him time to put the cookies into cellophane wrapping and grab a proper bite to eat.
He walked out of his room and into the kitchen, stopping short as Lucas spun with his mouth full of cookies and his eyes wide.
“Lucas, what the hell? They aren’t for you.”
“I’m sorry.” Crumbs jumped out of his mouth. He did a hard swallow and dusted the evidence from around his lips. “I’m sorry, they smelled so good, and I was starving.”
“So have a protein shake or six eggs or something!” He pushed Lucas out of the way, not an easy feat considering he was over six foot two and built of nothing but muscle.
And stolen cookies!
Lucas slunk to the other side of the kitchen. “They taste really good,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know you could bake.”
Will ignored the compliment/insult and looked at the trays. One of each type of cookie was missing. If there was someone who didn’t need any more luck, love, or health, it was Lucas. He worked as a personal trainer and looked like a model with that floppy brown ha
Without asking Will first.
In the end, Lucas turned out to be the better housemate. He was nicer, did his share of the cleaning, and paid his rent on time. There were worse people to live with… and he’d already left. And living with Lucas had other—distracting—benefits. In particular, he wasn’t shy about walking around the apartment in his underwear. Cal had caught Will staring more than once and cut the forbidden fantasy dead with a few harsh remarks. “Dream on” was the nicest.
With Cal gone, Lucas filled the apartment more, and Will found it harder to look away. But Lucas was Cal’s friend and therefore tainted, not that he wasn’t already far beyond the realm of possibility.
“I’m really sorry, Will.” Lucas came closer, put his hand on Will’s shoulder, but Will shrugged him off. “I thought maybe you’d made them to share, and I just got back from the gym and… and… I couldn’t resist. Do you want me to make more?” Lucas wore a hopeful smile on his full lips and a plea in his eyes. Those eyes…. It had taken Will a long time to figure out why they were so mesmerizing, deciding it was because of the thin dark line bordering an otherwise crystal-blue iris. Lucas was one big honey trap.
And Will would not let himself get caught.
“It doesn’t matter.” Will would make more when he got time, but this batch had to go today, especially considering how they weren’t safe around Lucas. Since when had he ever eaten anything that contained flour and sugar? Will had seen those abs, and while they might have been made in the kitchen, it was a kitchen without cookies. He hoped he’d have enough for the kids who’d be at the shelter that afternoon. It wouldn’t be fair for someone to miss out because of Lucas’s hunger pangs.
“Were they for someone special?”
“The kids at the shelter.”
Lucas hung his head. “Will, I really am sorry. Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?”
He looked like he wanted to fix this, a significant difference between him and Cal. While Lucas couldn’t whip up another batch, there was one thing he could do.
“Forget about the cookies, but you could do one thing for me.”
Lucas’s eyes sparkled. “Sure! Anything!”
“Tell Cal what you did with his stuff.”
Lines creased his otherwise blemish-free forehead. “What stuff?”
“I gave you some of Cal’s things about five months ago, clothes mostly, and asked you to give them to him next time you saw him. He’s still pestering me for them.” Which was weird because Lucas was usually reliable. He always took out the trash without being asked, so this should have been a no-brainer.
“Oh. Yeah… um… sorry about that. I haven’t seen much of him lately.”
“But you said you would. You’re his friend, so could you do it, please?”
Lucas nodded. “Sure, whatever you want.”
“Now can you get out of the kitchen? I need to wrap these before I go, and I don’t trust leaving them where you can get them.”
“Probably wise.” Lucas eyed the cookies like he was going to make a last-minute grab but instead pulled his phone out of his pocket. As he turned to go, he swiped the screen with his thumb, and a bright flash erupted. Lucas swore and dropped the device, the tang of burning metal wafting out in a wisp of smoke.
“Are you all right?” Will rushed over to check Lucas’s hand. He hissed as he unfurled it, the skin getting redder by the second. “Here, put it under the water.” He pulled Lucas over to the sink and held his hand under the running faucet. The phone made a fizzing sound, and Will and Lucas looked to the floor to check it wasn’t about to burst into flames.
Until Lucas yelped and ripped his hand out of Will’s grasp.
“That was the hot water!” Lucas shouted, squeezing his wrist.
Will looked back to see steaming water shooting out of the faucet. His eyes widened. How could he have made such a mistake? He switched to cold. “Sorry, I must have turned it the wrong way.” Will splashed the water. “See? It’s cold now.”
Lucas raised an eyebrow and hesitated before approaching. He took one step, slipped on a puddle, and crashed to the floor.
“Lucas!” Will dropped to help him.
Lucas laughed, then bashed his head against the cabinet. “Ow!” He kept laughing, and Will allowed himself a smile.
“Since when were you such a klutz?”
“I’m not! It’s bad karma for eating your cookies.” Lucas continued to chuckle, but the sound chipped against the ice crystals in Will’s chest. His smile froze into a rictus.
What if…?
“What order did you eat the cookies in?”
“Huh?”
“What order did you eat them in?”
“I don’t know. I can’t remember.”
“Think!”
“Jesus, they were just cookies. I’ll buy a ton of them to make up for it.”
“I don’t care about you replacing them. Did you eat the chocolate one first?”
“I guess?” He shrugged. “Choc chip is my favorite, so I probably ate it first. Why?”
The chill spread across his chest.
They were the good luck cookies.
Lucas’s phone shot out another spark and died.
Or they would have been if I hadn’t gotten distracted.
Could the message from Cal have ruined his concentration enough for the spells to get twisted? Or was this all a coincidence?
“Let me help you up.” Will needed time to think, and Lucas didn’t look comfortable squished on the kitchen floor.
“Only if you promise not to burn me with boiling water again.”
“Promise.” He gave Lucas his hand, expecting the fitness freak to be able to get up under his own steam, but as soon as he put weight on his right foot, he hissed and dropped his full weight onto Will.
“I think I twisted my ankle. Fuck. I’ve got to be back at work in an hour.”
“That’s not going to happen. You’d better call—you can use my phone.”
“Thanks. I only bought that one last week.”
It could all still be a coincidence, but whatever was going on, he didn’t want to risk giving those cookies to the kids.
They made it to the couch, and Lucas lowered down, settling with his foot up on the cushions. He looked comfortable enough, which was more than could be said for Will. His eyes drifted back to the kitchen. He tapped his fingernail against his teeth.
They aren’t connected. Right?
“What’s the matter?” Lucas asked.
Will snapped out of his daze and pulled his hand away from his mouth. “Nothing.”
“Come on, Will. You’re staring at those cookies like they’re about to explode.” Lucas looked at his hands, turned them over, flexed his fingers. “Is there something in them?”
Will tutted. “They’re not pot cookies!”
“Then what are they?”
“Forget it.”
“Fine. If there’s nothing wrong with them, you eat them.” Lucas tried to get up from the couch, but he buckled from the pain in his ankle and collapsed back onto the seat. A crunch followed, and Lucas’s head hit the back of the couch.
“What was that?” Will asked.
“My iPad.”
Crap!
He supported Lucas as he rolled to the side and pulled out the iPad from where it had gotten wedged beneath the cushions. The screen had cracked, and the device was bent. Lucas loved that iPad. He was on it more than his phone. He played games mostly but also used it for developing training programs for his clients. He rarely left it out of his sight, and it was hardly ever on the couch without him.
“Lucky I’ve got insurance.”
Will closed his eyes. Lucas shouldn’t have said that. He’d probably find that the policy was out of date or unpaid or didn’t cover these kinds of breakages.
“Okay, seriously, what’s the problem? You look like you’re about to be sick.”
