Wicked Business (Lizzy and Diesel 2)

Clara and I don’t talk a lot in the morning. Machines whir and hum as bread dough is mechanically kneaded and cake batter is mixed. I move from collecting ingredients to preparing baking pans to shaping yeast dough, my mind focused on the task at hand and the day all bright and shiny in front of me. Usually. Hatchet and Wulf were intruding today. My thoughts kept turning to swords and keys and ugly threats and perfectly pressed pants.

“Are you okay?” Clara asked. “You’re talking to yourself, and you’re glaring at the sweet roll dough.”

“I had a disturbing night. Do you remember Steven Hatchet?”

“Wulf’s medieval minion.”

“Yeah. I have a key he wants.”

“And you don’t want to give it to him?”

“No.”

“Well, then,” Clara said. “Case closed.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Glo swung into the kitchen at precisely eight o’clock. She parked her broom in the corner, and set her messenger bag on a shelf.

“The most amazing thing happened last night,” she said. “I met this guy online, and he’s perfect. I think he’s the one. And I definitely think he might be a wizard. He didn’t come right out and say it, but I got a total vibe.”

I looked over at Clara and saw she was working hard to squelch a grimace. Glo was always meeting perfect guys who had the promise of wizardry. I admired her optimism but thought her dating criteria could use some adjustment. None of the guys ever turned out to be a wizard. And some of them were downright scary.

“I’m meeting him for drinks tonight,” Glo said. “I have high hopes.”

Clara pulled a tray of croissants out of the oven. “The last time you said that, the guy had forty-three piercings and a snake tattooed onto his forehead.”

“He was sweet,” Glo said. “I’d still be dating him, but he always wanted to wear my clothes, and sometimes he’d wear them home and never return them. I don’t mind sharing, but a girl has to draw the line somewhere.”

Glo buttoned herself into a blue Dazzle’s smock and marched to the front door, where three people were already standing, waiting for the bakery to open. Two hours later, we were between customers, and Glo took the opportunity to box up orders for pickup. Clara was busy scrubbing down her work area, and I was piping frosting onto the last batch of cupcakes. The back door was still open, bringing fresh air and sunshine into the kitchen. A shadow fell across the floor, and we all looked up at Hatchet.

“Let me guess,” Clara said. “Sir Hatchet.”

“Nay,” he said. “Just Hatchet, in service to his lord and master.”

“I’m afraid you’re in the wrong spot,” Clara said. “If you want to buy cupcakes for your lord and master, you need the shop entrance, off the street.”

“My liege lord does not require anything so low as a cupcake,” Hatchet said. He looked at the tray of newly frosted chocolate cakes, his lips parted, and his eyes glazed over. “Although they doth look tasty.”

“Get to the point,” I said to Hatchet. “What do you want?”

He snapped to attention. “The key. I will die before I will disappoint my master.”

“We could probably arrange that,” Clara said.

Hatchet glared at her. “Do not scoff at me. I will have the key. And I will have these cupcakes as well.” He grabbed two off the tray and shoved them into his mouth. “Now the key,” he said.

Glo had her nose wrinkled. “Dude, you shouldn’t talk with your mouth full. Your teeth are all full of chocolate smush.”

“The key!” Hatchet said. “I demand that you give me the key!”

“I don’t have it,” I told him. “Diesel has it.”

He drew his sword. “Then I will take you hostage. And I will trade you for the key.”

“Hey!” Clara said to Hatchet. “What’s wrong with you? You can’t go around waving your sword in here. This is a bakery. Have some respect.”

“Yeah, and if you don’t behave, I’m going to get my broom, and he’ll give you a couple good whacks,” Glo said.