In the Teeth of It Read online

  In the teeth of it

  A Gingerbread Hag Mystery - Book Two

  By K. A. Miltimore

  Contents

  Dedication

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  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: 9781075196256

  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 mechanicial 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

  Chapter One

  Two months and not a sign of Lyssa. For two months, they had watched and waited and worried, but despite the fox’s warning that something was watching them from the dark, nothing had happened. Life doesn’t stand still, even when there is a threat from an ancient demigoddess.

  The guests of The Gingerbread Hag moved on with their lives. Bren Aldebrand, the visiting salamander, decided to continue on to New York, still unsure whether he would renounce his life if he had the chance. Anahita Sohrab, the undine, decided to change her plans as well. She was not going on to Alaska, but instead staying in Seattle; Mel would join her once she started college in the spring.

  Hedy too had made a decision; she had decided to reopen the waystation for travelers.

  Despite her worries that maybe they had not really seen the end of Lyssa, she knew that her role as a host of a waystation was too important and too much of her own identity to give it up. She contacted the Concierge and let them know that the waystation in Enumclaw was back in order. Being a waystation host was who she was - without it, Hedy knew she would feel adrift and alone.

  The bakery was busier than ever. The small article in The Courier-Herald had been picked up online and had drawn in more business; customers were now making their way there from Tacoma and Seattle. Hedy found that she couldn’t keep up with the demand on her own so when Mel offered to help until she left for college, Hedy had hired her on the spot. Not only had Mel proven herself reliable and someone that Hedy really liked, but she already knew all the members of the menagerie and their peculiar ability to speak. Hedy couldn’t have asked for a better assistant.

  The front door bell tinkled and the rain blew in with the open front door. Mel hustled to shut it behind the customer. She was in the entry, focused on decking the halls with all of Hedy’s Christmas decorations, and it was a huge job. Hedy had boxes of decorations and the entry was already overcrowded with her huge collection of strange curios and knick-knacks; Mel struggled to make the entry look festive and not a cluttered mess. She wished Anahita was there to lend a hand, but they only saw each other on the weekends, and it was only Wednesday.

  She missed Ana. They had only known each other for two months but she couldn’t imagine her life without the elemental. Springtime and moving in together in Seattle couldn’t come soon enough.

  “Dreadful weather, ugh. I could hardly see the road driving into town there was so much water. Good thing I had your address in my GPS because your sign is really small.” The customer gave her umbrella a slight shake over the mat on the floor and then put it into the available stand.

  “I’m glad you made it safely. I hear it is supposed to dry out some later in the week. Welcome to The Gingerbread Hag. How can I help you?”

  Hedy, as always, wore her criss-cross apron and had her white hair done up in a lofty beehive style with tiny Krampus pins tucked in here and there. Krampus featured heavily in the shop during the holidays, given Hedy’s roots in the Black Forest.

  “I have an ugly sweater party to attend tonight and I want some unusual treats to bring with me. I read about your shop online and thought I would come check it out. I came up from Tacoma.” The woman shed her slicker and she was indeed sporting a very ugly Christmas sweater underneath. Hedy, herself no follower of current fashion, really didn’t understand the whole ugly sweater thing. But to each their own.

  “Well, I have some of our usual items, such as the foxtail donuts or our rat sugar cookies, which are always popular. But for the holidays, I have some Krampus cupcakes and I have our cannibal gingerbread men cookies.” She waited as the woman examined the showcase and watched her expression turn from curious to astonished to excited.

  “Oh yes, the gingerbread men are perfect. I love how you’ve baked them to be eating gingerbread limbs. How perfectly awful! I’m not familiar with Krampus, but he looks very devilish indeed. I should take a few of those as well.”

  “Krampus is an ancient legend from Germany. He predates Santa Claus, in fact. You can think of him as an opposite version of Santa. Instead of bringing treats for good kids, he whips and abducts bad children. He’s been scaring kids to be good for centuries.” Hedy had the large box carefully packed with the cannibal cookies, and another smaller box with six Krampus cakes. The customer took both boxes and handed back her credit card.

  “Your shop was definitely worth the drive. Are you on Instagram? I’d love to follow you.”

  Hedy couldn’t count the number of people who had asked her this question in recent weeks. She’d have to ask Mel about it and whether she should try to get online; Hedy didn’t even own a computer.

  “I’m afraid I am rather old fashioned, so no Instagram for me. Have a wonderful time at your party tonight.” Hedy said, handing the card back to the customer, along with her receipt. Mel held the door open for the woman as she retrieved her umbrella and faced the whipping wet wind.

  “How are the decorations coming?” Hedy joined Mel in the entry and saw that things were definitely still in progress. To be fair to Mel, Hedy knew it was a job that would take considerable time, given all the decorations.

  “Well, I think I have the garland all up. The banister is done, and I added it above the doorways. I can’t for the life of me figure out that wooden pyramid thingy though, and I’m usually the one who builds the Ikea furniture at my house.”

  Mel’s reference was lost on Hedy but she wasn’t surprised that the pyramid had been a struggle. It was an eight-sided platform with several tiers and it looked far more complicated than it really was.

  “I’ll show you how it goes together. It is a Weihnachtspyramide. Think of it like a multiple layer carousel that spins from the heat of the candles. It’s a staple in Germany, but not as popular here, I’m afraid.” Hedy had many years of practice assembling the pyramid and she had it together quickly, building it in the center of the same large table that she used for tending to Ren, the injured fox, back in Oct
ober. Hedy wondered briefly how the little fox was doing.

  “Look at all those little figures. These all look like scenes from a fairytale, with a woodcutter and forest creatures. What is that devil looking thing, though?” Mel took a closer look at the tiny wooden figure that looked like a devil with a very long red tongue. She hadn’t been in the shop that morning when Hedy made her first batch of cupcakes.

  “Don’t tell me you don’t know about Krampus either? Good grief, I thought the Internet had brought everything to every corner of the world. Apparently, there are still some secrets out there.” Hedy retold her short description of Krampus to Mel, who promptly pulled out her phone and Googled for more information.

  “This is seriously a thing? Men dressing up in fur suits, wearing wooden masks, and ringing cowbells to scare away the ghosts of winter? Sounds goofy to me.” Mel was pulling plaid bows out of a box to tie to the garland.

  “Well, goofy or not, it’s an old tradition and this is the time of the year for celebrating tradition, right? Where do your people come from? What are your traditions?” Hedy had finished assembling the Christmas pyramid and was lighting all the candles to demonstrate how it worked.

  “My grandma on my dad’s side said we were from Scotland. My mom’s family is Native American - Salish tribe. My family really doesn’t do much when it comes to tradition. I mean, we celebrate the holidays and visit family, but nothing like old Krampus here.”

  Mel handed the little wooden figure back to Hedy, who placed him in the pyramid, near a group of rowdy children.

  “I don’t think it matters how big or small your traditions might be. It’s just nice to mark the year and remember where you’ve been. Tradition can be as simple or as elaborate as you like. Personally, I like things elaborate. I’m sure that doesn’t surprise you.” Hedy emphasized this by pulling a rather large straw goat out of a box. When Mel looked bewildered, Hedy said simply, “The Swedish yule goat, of course.”

  “Of course, how silly of me.” Mel would have a lot to tell Anahita when she met her this weekend. “Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Mel continued, “did you see that new shop that opened in town this week?”

  Hedy shook her head; she had been so busy baking that she had barely had a chance to run out for groceries.

  “It’s called ‘the Red Bat,’ I think. It opened up in the building next to where the yoga studio caught fire. Looks like it would be right up your alley.”

  “Why is that, Mel?” Hedy wasn’t exactly sure what “up your alley” might mean in this context.

  “Old clothes - sorry, vintage clothes, and accessories. It’s a small shop but it looks jammed packed with things that fit your style.” Mel gave a crooked smile and continued tying bows. Hedy’s style was eclectic, to say the least.

  “Hmm, I wouldn’t think a small town like this would be a great location for such a shop. But then, here I am with this bakery.” Hedy laughed and drew a small log out of the box, with the face of an old woman carved into it. The front door bell tinkled as Darro filled the doorway.

  “Not fit for man nor beast out there. I have your tree, Miss Hedy. It’s sopping wet so I have it drying here on the porch.” Darro was barely visible under his black slicker hood.

  “Oh, let me see it.” Hedy hurriedly followed Darro back to the porch and stood on the sheltered side to inspect the blue spruce that was dripping water everywhere. It was enormous, probably close to eight feet tall, and full of fresh needles.

  “It’s lovely, Darro. Where did you get it?” The gardener was shaking his slicker to get some of the rain off it and managing to splatter Hedy in the process.

  “That tree farm out near Mount Enumclaw. They have the best trees. It cost an arm and a leg, but you said spare no expense, so here ‘tis.” Darro followed her inside and peeled off the slicker, which Hedy gathered up before it could puddle on the floor.

  “Come in and let’s settle up for the tree. Plus I want to hire you to hang lights outside.” She hung the slicker on the coat rack with the mat underneath. With the rain they had been having, it was necessary to keep the water off the hardwood floor.

  “Aye, I can do that. What’s this? I haven’t seen one of these since I left Scotland.” Darro picked up the small log and ran a thumb over the carved face.

  “What is it?” Mel had finished her bows and came over to the table for a closer look.

  “See the face there, carved in the wood? In Scotland, if you burn a Cailleach, a log with the face of an old woman carved in it, you’ll take away the bad luck for the year. My gran burned one every year. They don’t always work, though. Gran could have told you all about that.” Darro set the small log back down on the table, and his expression looked very far away.

  “Darro, come into the shop. I have some shortbread I’d like you to try; I tried a new recipe and I need an opinion. Mel, you are welcome to join us. We can’t really finish in the hall until the tree dries out anyway.” Hedy led the way back into the shop, where Darro took a seat and Mel went behind the counter to roll out pie dough.

  “Any news from our man, Bren? He’s been gone about a fortnight,” Darro asked, taking the shortbread and a cup of tea with a grateful nod.

  “Nothing as of yet. He promised to send word when he reaches New York, so I suspect he is still on his way.” Hedy wanted to believe that, but it didn’t take two weeks to travel to New York by train. She couldn’t bring herself to admit that maybe Bren had forgotten all about them - forgotten all about her. The thought was too painful to speak aloud.

  “And Miss Ana is doing well? Living in Seattle, is she?” Darro directed his questions toward Mel.

  “Yes, she found an apartment near the University and we see each other on the weekends. I’ve even convinced her to get a cell phone, which is a big step forward.” Mel chuckled and shook her head in wonder; how anyone could function without a phone was beyond her.

  “That’s good to hear. And no sign of the other then?” Darro didn’t have to say her name; they all knew who he was talking about.

  “Not hide nor hair. We’ve been watching for weeks but nothing has come to pass, thank goodness. Maybe she didn’t survive the wound in her side.”

  Hedy still thought about the feeling of sliding the knife into Lyssa almost every day. No matter how hard she tried not to.

  “We should be so lucky. With Jeffries dead and his house torn down, perhaps that is all behind us.” Darro didn’t wish to speak ill of the dead, but the fact that Mr. Jeffries hadn’t survived his burns from the fire didn’t trouble him a bit. The man was a monster.

  “Yes, let’s hope so.” It had been two months of worry and watching for all of them. Hedy felt the weight of it draped on her, like a heavy coat she couldn’t take off.

  “A new year and much to look forward to. I’d be very glad if all that is truly behind us,” Mel chimed in, her thoughts still on Ana and warmer, spring days.

  Hedy wanted to believe it could all be over but something in her gut told her that things were not finished, no matter how it seemed.

  “Oh, Mel, I forgot to tell you that I received a call from the Concierge today and we will be having a new traveler coming, likely tonight or early tomorrow. Whatever time you can spare to work in the shop would be much appreciated, especially since we have the big Christmas market coming up this weekend.” Hedy pulled the candied fruit filling for the pies that Mel was making from the refrigerator, placing it near the fluted pie tins.

  “Sure, I was planning to be around this weekend anyway. My family is going to the tree farm tomorrow and then we’ll all be going to the Christmas market at the fairgrounds on Saturday. Ana will be here.” Mel said, feeling that bubble of anticipation rising in her belly at the thought of her girlfriend.

  A girlfriend, a beautiful and magical girlfriend. A girlfriend who would be meeting her uncle and cousin for the first time. The realization of family introductions put a slow pop to the bubble. She didn’t know how that would go.

  “Wonderful. I h
aven’t seen her since early November so be sure she stops by my booth to say hello, won’t you? And if she needs some money, I could use her help in the shop too.” Ana wasn’t quite as skilled as Mel, but Hedy could definitely use her eager assistance.

  “Oh, Ana is quite set for money, but I bet she would be willing to come help out while she is in town. You know Ana.”

  “I best be on my way, Miss Hedy. The tree was one hundred and eighty dollars, if you don’t mind. I’ll string up the house lights on the first dry day for a flat hundred, not including the lights.” Hedy exchanged his empty shortbread plate for three hundred-dollar bills.

  “I have the lights, Darro. Beautiful white and pale pink glass bulbs. I hope you aren’t afraid of heights, because I want them all along the peaks of the house.”

  “I’ll have them on every dormer and cranny, don’t you worry. If the weather is right, it will be tomorrow. Thank ye kindly for the shortbread. It wasn’t up to Granny’s standard, but it was good enough for American tastes.” He chuckled as he rose and found his slicker in the hall. With a wave of his hand, he was back out in the wet wind.

  “I don’t think I will ever make something up to his granny’s standards. I’ve been trying for two months now.” Hedy chuckled but it actually pricked at her pride. She prided herself on being an excellent baker and the fact that she couldn’t master something frustrated her. She might be forced to take a trip to Scotland for research.

  “Darro is a loyal guy. He would likely never say something was better than his granny’s. You gotta love that about him. I wouldn’t worry about it. Everyone loves your baking, Hedy,” Mel assured her and Hedy smiled.

  “I suppose I shouldn’t be competitive with a dead Scottish grandmother, but baking is my claim to fame. I’ll crack the secret to her recipe yet. Maybe I can ask Adelaide to commune with her in the spirit world and give me her secret?” Hedy asked with a laugh but the thought wasn’t that far-fetched; she wasn’t above asking a ghost to do a little reconnaissance for her. Maybe Adelaide would be able to reach dear old Granny Raith and get the secret at last. Of course, that would be if Adelaide would be willing and with that ghost, who could say.