Page 79 of Bewicched

“I like both. Why?”

I almost jumped at his deep voice. Almost. I hadn’t realized he’d moved directly behind me. “Half the batch is for you.”

He let out a gust of air and remained directly behind me.

“After meeting you,” I elaborated, “I started thinking about honey recipes. I added a little more than the recipe called for, but I didn’t think that would be a problem.” Sliding the new trays into the oven, I reset my timer, and then transferred half the batch to the cooling racks, leaving the other half on the baking trays. “The ones I leave on the cookie sheets for a few more minutes will be chewier.”

He made a soft grunt and nodded.

“If you’d like a couple right away, before they coo—”

“Yes.”

I hid my smile by getting a plate from the cabinet. I moved four from the rack to his plate and then handed it to him.

He sniffed and then threw one in this mouth and savored it a moment before swallowing and throwing another in. Had he chewed? Eh, whatever.

I glanced around Detective Osso’s huge frame to find Hernández once again staring at my paintings. “Detective Hernández, would you like a couple of cookies?” At Osso’s strange, growly sound of disapproval, I added, “Hers will come from my half of the batch, not yours.”

He threw the last two into his mouth on a nod.

I slid a cookie onto a folded paper napkin and brought it to her. She nodded her thanks, still staring at the underwater painting.

“I couldn’t sleep. The—” She looked at the open door and whispered, “demon you talked about last night, the one who possessed the nurse, is he involved in this stuff too?” she asked, gesturing to the paintings.

I walked to the adjoining door and shut it. Phil, Juan, and Mike couldn’t hear through walls and I didn’t want the detectives to have to whisper or speak in code. “Dave, the nice demon you met last night”—I thought about that a moment and then shrugged—“I guess he’s nice. I don’t know. He’s only half demon. Maybe that makes a difference. Anyway, he explained that when you have a demon and sorcerer working together in a particular area, bad things start happening around them. It’s not directly related, except it is.

“The demon and sorcerer aren’t out encouraging people to kill each other. It’s more that what they do allows evil to seep into the community and then those individuals who were just barely clinging to appropriate social behavior are pushed over the line. All those horrible impulses that they’ve been able to suppress up to that point are now set free. The reins have snapped and they’re acting out in ways they’d only ever fantasized about.”

“Shit,” Detective Osso grumbled.

“Exactly,” I said. “Have you had an increase in violent crimes lately?”

“Yes,” Hernández responded. “It’s been increasing over the past couple of years, but in the last six months, maybe, it’s gotten so much worse.” She looked at Osso for confirmation and he nodded.

Hernández stared down at the cookie in her hand as if confused as to how it had appeared. Shaking her head at whatever she was thinking, she took a bite and stopped, closing her eyes. “Oh my God. Maybe you should be opening a bakery instead of a gallery.”

“I excel at many things,” I said, strangely annoyed that she’d prioritize my baking over my art.

There was a thump outside the window and we all turned. Declan, balancing on one foot on the post outside the door, leapt in. “I can vouch for that. She excels at a great many things.”

“Where the hell were you?” Detective Osso demanded.

“Roof.” Declan pointed up. “Arwyn hasn’t mentioned it yet, but she had a visit from an arsonist last night while we were all at the hospital.”

“What?” Hernández strode to the door and then grabbed the frame. “The deck’s gone.”

The alarm went off in my pocket. “Don’t remind me.” I pulled out the cookie sheets and then loaded up two more with the last of the batter. “Hey, do you know the name of an arson inspector I can call?”

I went back to my pantry and looked for a carrier to loan Osso. Top shelf. As I felt uncomfortable using a spell in front of the cops, I started to drag over a chair. Declan was there, putting the chair back.

“What do you need?”

“Oh, good. Top shelf. I need both those carriers.” I turned to the very large detective hovering possessively around my oven. “I can loan you my cookie carrier, but I need it back, okay?”

He nodded, his focus on the cookies. “What kind of honey do you use?”

I went to my pantry and pulled out four sealed jars. “I have a cousin—there are a million of us, but not all magical—who’s a beekeeper. She makes her own blends. In the cookies, I used a fig honey. I also have clover, pomegranate, and an apple-pear I particularly like. Today, though, I thought you’d like fig best.”

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