Dreams, Divination, and Danger by Shéa MacLeod

Author:Shéa MacLeod [MacLeod, Shéa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: science fiction, science fiction mystery, space mystery, murder mystery, whodunnit
Publisher: Sunwalker Press
Published: 2020-09-14T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

“You’re an idiot.” Emory strode across her kitchen and grabbed a bag of flour. She yanked a little too hard, and a poof of the stuff hit the air like fairy wings, not that the sidhe actually had wings.

“Excuse me?” Tyr eyed her over the rim of his coffee mug. She’d given him a simple white ceramic one with a flourish of pink writing on the side that said I’m a ducking unicorn. The sentiment confused him. Why anyone would want to be such a creature was beyond him. They’d as soon gore you with their horn as look at you, and what did ducks have to do with it?

“You know as well as I do that Mia wouldn’t hurt a fly.” Emory viciously slammed the flour down next to her turquoise mixer, sending up another cloud. Her brow creased as she scooped cups of flour and dumped them in the steel bowl, knocking the metal scoop loudly against the side each time.

“What are you making?” he asked, trying to distract her from her anger.

She gave him a sideways look. “I know what you’re doing, and it won’t work.” She hesitated. “Cookies. I bake when I’m angry.”

“I take it you’re angry.”

She gave him that look again. It would have squashed a lesser man. “A bit.” He was surprised her seething aura didn’t turn him into a human popsicle.

He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Fine. She couldn’t hurt a fly. But I didn’t imagine what I saw.”

She turned on the mixer and another cloud of flour hit the air, this time so thick it made him cough. She grabbed a towel and waved it around in a vain attempt to clear it. “I’m sure you didn’t, but there are other witches in this city.”

“Witches that can dreamwalk? Witches with the same energy signature as Mia?”

She leaned against a high stool. “Well, no.” She crossed her arms, lines creasing her forehead. “There’s no way Mia is behind this. Trust me.”

He sighed. “I wish I could.”

“Wish you could what?”

He stiffened when Mia spoke behind him. How much had she heard?

Emory gave a guilty start and jumped to the mixer. Turning it off, she splatted dough on a baking tray. “He wishes he could trust me when I say these cookies will be good. He’s convinced I’m a hot mess.”

Mia stepped into the kitchen and looked around, no doubt seeing what he did: measuring utensils everywhere, flour coating every surface, a splash of milk on the floor, and a glob of peanut butter smeared across a countertop. Emory really was a hot mess.

Max the lizard scuttled in from the hallway and scrambled up Mia’s leg. She plucked him from her jeans and plopped him on her shoulder. “If you can’t trust her, trust me. The bigger the mess, the better the baked goods.” She leaned over the bowl, swiped a glob of dough, and stuck it in her mouth. “Yum, peanut butter. My favorite.” She swiped another smaller glop and fed it to the lizard.

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