Sweet Tooth and Claw Read online

  Sweet Tooth and Claw

  A Gingerbread Hag Mystery - Book Three

  By K.A. Miltimore

  To Ingrid, Michael and Susan, and all the independent bookstores that help support new authors.

  To the From Bunch who provide feedback and help whenever I have a question or need a laugh.

  As always, to all the readers who have supported this series and provided their valuable feedback and support. Thank you so much.

  Copyright © 2019 K.A. Miltimore All rights reserved. ISBN:

  All characters and settings appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or to any places or locations is purely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, contact the Author at

  www.kamiltimore.com.

  Cover Illustration by Bridgette Dracass

  The Gingerbread Hag Series:

  Burned to a Crisp - Book One

  In the Teeth of It - Book Two

  Sweet Tooth and Claw - Book Three

  The Necromancer and the Chinchilla - Short Stories from the Gingerbread Hag Bakery

  Other works by the author:

  Autumn Nights - Thirteen Spooky Fall Reads, contributor

  Prologue

  He knew when he opened his eyes that something was wrong. The room smelled metallic, bathed in iron. Blinking in the watery sunlight, he sat up slowly and caught a glimpse of scarlet on his white shirt. What had happened, he wondered. The stain was blood, dried and set. He felt the shirt sticking to his chest. His hands were streaked as well and his mouth had the sickening flavor he hadn't tasted in years.

  There on the floor, near an upended box, lay a still form. He knew without looking that she was dead. Mon Dieu, he could always smell death. Next to her still hand, lay a knife. He remembered now. She had broken in. He recalled her face as she slipped into the attic, so determined, so unafraid.

  Good God, what had he done?

  Chapter One

  Valentine's Day was just days away and Hedy had grand plans for the bakery showcase - with croissant hearts that oozed raspberry blood, cookies shaped like demonic cupids and chocolate dipped fortunes of love cookies. All her grand plans, however, might be spoiled by a few snowflakes. Early February had brought almost a foot of snow on the ground, which brought travel to a halt for most residents around Enumclaw. Unlike those in the midwest, Washington residents seeing even a few flakes in the forecast shutter their houses and stockpile their canned goods. This made things challenging for small stores like The Gingerbread Hag Bakery, who relied on foot traffic and people visiting the little town in the shadow of Mount Rainier.

  "Winter means snow. What is so tricky about slowing down and avoiding icy patches?" Hedy asked Mel, her teenage friend and bakery assistant. Mel wiped at the same spot on the counter three times, obviously bored.

  "People around here don't do snow very well. If they live on a hill, forget about seeing them until the ground is bare. People can be weird." Mel tossed the rag on the counter in disgust. She had more on her mind than just the lack of customers. She and Ana were having a spat - their first since they started dating back in October.

  "Well, it certainly puts a crimp in my Valentine's Day display plans. What's the point of baking up a storm if there won't be anyone to buy them?" Hedy filled up a mug with steaming cider as she spoke, offering it to Mel, who shook her head.

  "On the plus side, with business slow, it gives you time to see more of Michael. Seems like you two have been hitting it off." Mel smiled at Hedy, who sipped the cider without comment.

  "I'm not sure why you would choose to spend your day cavorting with an Imp. Honestly, how could you ever trust him?" Maurice chimed in from his pillow near the spiderweb window. The chinchilla had been under the weather for weeks and Hedy had him wrapped up in wool blanket. She worried that this illness might be more than Maurice could fight off at his advanced age, but he acted as ornery as ever.

  "Thank you for the dating advice, Maurice. Your opinion on Imps is duly noted. We're friends and yes, we've been 'courting' to use an old phrase, but it isn't especially serious. I have no reason not to trust him." Hedy caught herself speaking in measured words. Yes, she and Michael had a connection but she wasn't sure where it was going. She had never dated a supernatural being before and even though she had many such friends, opening her heart to someone new made her wary.

  "Well, whether it is serious or not, he comes around a fair bit. With both Bren in the house and Michael visiting almost daily, it’s a good thing business has been slow." Mel said, noticing that Maurice's blanket had slipped a bit. She walked over to his pillow to adjust it. As much of a curmudgeon as Maurice was, she had a soft spot in her heart for the old chinchilla. The strange artifact in the hallway gave the animals in the house the power of speech and even months later, Mel could still be surprised to hear them chime in on a conversation.

  "Mel, Bren is just a friend, you know that. After everything we have been through, with Lyssa and the fires, and his return to town, we have a bond - a platonic bond. You make it sound like some kind of love triangle." Hedy took another sip of the cider and gave Mel one of her frowning looks.

  "What else do you call a situation where you have three people - two of whom have their sights on the third? Hedy, honestly, sometimes you are so naive. Do you really think Bren has been hanging around here since December just for the gray, rainy weather? Your cookies are good but not good enough to keep somebody visiting for two months." Mel said with a chuckle. Hedy's frown deepened.

  "That's enough out of you, Miss. Why don't you tend to your own knitting, as they say? I haven't seen Ana visiting lately and I would think you lovebirds would be planning your first Valentine's Day with excitement. What has she been up to?" Hedy took a sip of the cider and could see instantly she had hit a sore spot. Mel visibly winced.

  "We're fine. Everything's fine, it’s just...oh, I don't know how to explain it. Ana is older than me - as an Undine she doesn't age the way we do - and that means she can be set in her ways. I'm still figuring out what is important to me and she has a hard time with that. We'll get through it, it’s just a little...stressful right now." Mel turned her back on Hedy to adjust Maurice's blanket again, which hadn't moved an inch. Hedy had the good sense to leave things be.

  "Well, let's stop talking about love and start talking baking. I want to work on those demon cupids for the showcase. I can't decide if the cookie should be anise flavor or cinnamon. Any preference?" Hedy spoke to the back of Mel's head. The young woman gazed out the front windows.

  "I'm a fan of anise if that means anything." Bren said as he entered the shop, carrying a book under his arm. Hedy dearly hoped he hadn't heard any of the love triangle discussion. She felt her cheeks start to burn.

  "Anise it is then. Can I get you anything, Bren? Looks like you are going to do some reading. What's the topic?" Hedy smiled and gave a quick gesture toward the book under his arm. Mel turned around and wiped the tears from her cheeks. Neither Hedy nor Bren said anything about them.

  "I found something unusual in your library and I took the liberty of borrowing it, I hope you don't mind. It is an old gothic horror novel, written back in the 1700s, called 'The Necromancer, or the Tale of the Black Forest'. I thought it might prove interesting. Maybe I'll learn something about your ancestor, Rusalia? She lived in the Black Forest, yes? Anything to get to know the enigmatic Miss Leckermaul better." B
ren smiled that crooked smile that only seemed to appear when he was trying to be clever. It always made Hedy chuckle.

  "That book won't get you very far if you are looking for Rusalia, but it is fascinating. Jane Austen referenced it in her novel, Northanger Abbey. She hated it. I found it intriguing, personally. I hope you enjoy it. Let me fix you a pot of Black Forest tea to go with it." Before Bren could say anything, she had hot water pouring into a china teapot.

  "Hedy, you fuss too much. I hope you think of me less as a waystation guest you have to tend to and more as a...friend." Bren said.

  "Nonsense, I fuss regardless of who it is. Ask Mel. I still make her tea and she works here for heaven's sake. Pick a table and I'll bring it over in a minute." Hedy blended the dried cherries, black tea and vanilla beans soaked in chocolate liqueur in a small bowl. Lately, she had been experimenting with creating custom teas to match her baked goods. This one was Black Forest cake.

  Bren turned away from the counter and Hedy saw a strange look pass between the Salamander and Mel that she couldn’t interpret.

  The bell to the front door tinkled and a gust of cold air barreled into the shop. Maurice gave a little grunt and burrowed deeper into his wool blanket. Michael closed the door with his foot, as his hands were full.

  "Good morning, all. Nice to see you, Mel, Bren. Hedy, you are looking like Cupid's own arrow this morning. I love the dress." Michael set his package on the table gently. He wasn't a large man but when he entered a room, he seemed to take up all the space.

  "I've never been called an arrow before, Michael, but I'm assuming it is a complement. Good to see you. What's in the package?" Hedy came out from behind the counter and gave Michael a quick hug. Her dress was a swirl of purple and pink, with pink tights and Mary Jane style shoes. Mel had gotten used to Hedy's rather strange fashion choices but today's was definitely on the edge of gaudy.

  "It's a gift for you, of course. What do I usually bring?" Michael laughed and Mel noticed Bren shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Mel really felt sorry for the guy. To have to witness someone obviously flirting with Hedy had to be painful.

  "Michael, you do too much. Lavishing gifts isn't necessary you know." Hedy smiled but Mel could tell that she was flattered by all the attention. In the two months since Michael had come into their lives, Hedy had gone from acting lonely and sad to being almost giddy some days - as giddy as Hedy ever got. She seemed to be thriving under Michael's attention. Mel wanted to be happy for her - and she was - but she wished it wasn't Michael who was making Hedy glow with happiness.

  "I happened upon an item that a collector such as yourself would cherish, and how could I say no to that? Open it." Michael stepped aside so Hedy could reach the package, wrapped drably in brown Kraft paper. It was about the size of a large shoe box.

  "I can't imagine what it is you found for me, wrapped up in such fancy paper." Hedy teased, pulling away the tape that held the paper around the box.

  "What is it, Hedy?" Mel came a little closer to the table to get a better view. From what she could see, it was a dark brown wooden box, plain and oblong.

  "I'm not sure. Looks like a wooden box." Hedy picked it up and found the wood was smooth with age and almost black, it was so dark. There were no carvings or details on the wood, just scars from time. The top of the box appeared to have a lid that slid off and she gave it a small push with her thumb. The edge of the lid slid from the groove and exposed a dark red silk interior. Inside, a greenish bottle of old glass rested on the silk.

  "Michael, what is it? It looks very old." Hedy set the lid down but kept the bottle in the box. It looked fragile enough that she wasn't sure she wanted to handle it.

  "That, my dear Hedy, is the bottle used by Grainne to put the Irish court of Fionn mac Cumhaill asleep so she and her love, Diarmuid could escape." Michael looked very proud of himself and Hedy hated to spoil it for him but she had no idea what he was talking about.

  "Well, it looks like quite a treasure. I am not familiar with Grainne and that story, but I will certainly research it. Thank you very much. It is a lovely gift." Hedy smiled broadly, trying to keep Michael's spirits buoyed but she could tell he was bitterly disappointed.

  "Oh, I felt sure you would know the tale. It is a famous Irish love story. Grainne is supposed to marry Fionn mac Cumhaill but she falls in love with his warrior, Diarmuid. To escape the wedding, she puts the court to sleep and the pair run away.” Michael’s smile slipped to more of a grimace.

  “The sleeping potion was in that bottle. I’d say my little surprise has rather fallen flat."

  "No, Michael, it is a wonderful gift. I had no idea of the story but I love the idea of the lovers stealing away from court while the other man sleeps. Thank you so much. Really." Hedy set the box down gently and gave Michael another hug, this one with a small kiss on the cheek. A diminished smile crept back to his face.

  "An ancient Irish love triangle. How interesting and how timely with Valentine's Day just around the corner and for other reasons. Kinda sad for Finn what's his name though..." Mel chimed in, all innocence and smiles. It was a bit of jab but she couldn't help herself.

  "If you will excuse me, Hedy. I'll take my book up to the library. It was nice to see you again, Michael." Bren stood quickly and left the room before anyone could reply. Guilt washed over Mel. Had she embarrassed Bren? Hurting Bren was the last thing she was trying to do. It had only been a small joke.

  "Let's get to work on those anise cookies, shall we, Mel? Michael, would you care for some Black Forest tea? No sense letting a pot go to waste. You can tell us more about Grainne and Diarmuid." Hedy said through a smile but Mel caught the tightness underneath. She felt her face flush and the tears prickle at her lashes. Not only had she hurt Bren but now Hedy was upset as well - all because she was trying to be funny. If she could have climbed into the wooden box with that bottle, she would have slid the lid closed on herself.

  "Coming, Hedy." Mel gave Maurice one more quick pat and then headed behind the counter with the woman who was keeping her back to her. It was going to be a long afternoon.

  Chapter Two

  Other than Bren, there were no other guests staying at the Enumclaw waystation and there hadn’t been since Raluca, last December. No calls from the Concierge had come in for some time. Hedy chalked it up to a lack of travelers in the month of January but a thought needled her that there was more to it than that. When Raluca had died and the Concierge had sent couriers to retrieve her body, they were very keen to ask whether they had everything from her room.

  "Is this the only notebook?" the dour one had asked and Hedy had irritated him further by replying that she had no idea how many notebooks Miss Vaduva had in her possession. She had only seen her with her book of ancient philosophers. Whatever she kept in her Coach bag was her business and Hedy didn't like the implication that she had rifled through Raluca's things. After they had taken her body away with them, there hadn't been another call from the Concierge in two months.

  It was entirely reasonable that no one was in need of the little waystation in Enumclaw, Washington in the wettest, darkest, dreariest month of the year in the Pacific Northwest. How many supernatural travelers could there really be needing refuge during this time of the year, she asked herself. So she kept her mind off the dearth of calls and visitors but the nagging thought kept popping up in the back of her mind. Something wasn't right.

  "It's not as if we aren't busy, eh Maurice? What with Bren visiting? It's been nice to have him here, even as solemn as he seems to be right now. I wonder if his journey to New York has disappointed him." Hedy said to the small chinchilla still buried in the wool blanket.

  She didn't know if he was dozing or not; Mel had left the bakery on a pretext of needing to get an assignment over to school but Hedy knew she was trying to avoid the uncomfortable situation she had created with her triangle joke. It was just as well. She didn't feel like talking at the moment - at least to a human. Michael had gracefully exited and Bren was presum
ably still nose-deep in his book in the library.

  "Hedy, did you say something?" Zelda had wandered in from the kitchen, taking up her now usual spot near Maurice's sleeping form. The two had fought for so long, it was strange to see her keeping near to him.

  "Oh nothing, just talking to Maurice but he seems to be sleeping. How are you doing? Enjoying the quiet with no travelers?" Hedy was keeping her hands busy with the cookie dough that would become her demon cupids. She wanted to keep her mind occupied as well. It was too troubling to let it wander right now.

  "It's hardly quiet. What with your paramour and Bren the Brooding always about. But you know me, I never complain." Zelda curled up in a loop in the spiderweb pattern displayed on the floor from the weak sunlight coming through the Winchester stained glass window.

  "Paramour is a strong word, don't you think? And Bren isn't brooding, he just has a lot on his mind. I'm hoping some quiet here with us will make things easier for him. Perhaps he'll tell us what happened in New York, when he is ready." Hedy said, rolling out the dough to a uniform thickness. Bits of flour flicked off the rolling pin, landing on her hands.

  "As you say. I would think his brooding has more to do with your paramour and less to do with New York, but of course, you know best." With a quick lick of her lips, Zelda tucked her head into the loop of her body, signaling the conversation was at an end. Hedy gave a quick flick of flour in Zelda's direction.

  The bell tinkled and Hedy looked up to see a face she hadn't seen in years and twenty-five hundred miles. He had a suitcase with him and a broad smile on his face.

  "Louis? What in the world brings you here? Why didn't you call?" Hedy came out from behind the counter and met him in the entry. Ignoring the flour, she gave him a hard hug, pulling his tall, lean frame into her arms. He warmly hugged her back.