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One More Chapter
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London SE1 9GF
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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2019
Copyright © A. G. Mayes 2019
Cover design by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2019
Cover images © Thomas Marchessault / Alamy Stock Photo (window frame); Leeyakorn06 / Shutterstock.com (cakes)
A. G. Mayes asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008319151
Ebook Edition © November 2019 ISBN: 9780008319144
Version: 2019-10-03
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Acknowledgements
Also by A. G. Mayes
About the Author
About the Publisher
For Chris
and everyone who loves
pie, puppies, and magic
Prologue
From the outside, the cottage nestled in the snowy countryside at the bottom of a hill looked as if it belonged on the pages of a storybook, but for the Drake family inside life was no happily ever after.
Dennis and Stan, father and son, were playing chess by the fire when a woman with graying brown hair and sharp green eyes stormed in and threw back the hood of her cloak. The younger man felt all the muscles in his body tense.
“Did you get it?” she asked.
“No,” Stan answered quietly. Dennis stared at the board.
“What?” she asked sharply. Both men flinched. “We would be in control of all the magic in Hocus Hills by now if you two blundering buffoons didn’t fail at every little task.” She spoke as though all the magical residents in the town of Hocus Hills were just objects for her to possess.
“We thought Alice was our star, but then she set us back when she got caught. I should have never let her convince me she could control people through altered magic spices. She didn’t have the skills. I mean, cookies? Come on!” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t think her heart was in the mission. She was too distracted by the loss of her sister, Nellie.”
Sometimes his mother just liked to hear the sound of her own voice, Stan thought.
“We can try something else,” Dennis offered, not taking his eyes off the chess board.
“Of course, we’ll try something else,” Brenda snapped. “We need to figure the magic out. Only two days before Ivan gets here. Two!” She slammed her hand on the table and chess pieces bounced off the board, clattering to the floor. “He’s not as kind as I am.”
“We have a plan for getting new recruits,” Stan said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“We need more than your plans. We need more people before Ivan gets here. That part shouldn’t be hard though. There’s always magical people who want more than to hide out in a small town.”
She paced up and down the room, her shoes clicking sharply against the floor. Stan watched his mother pace.
“Erma, she’s always a problem. She’s been keeping those spices under lock and key,” Brenda was muttering under her breath now. “But think of how happy Ivan would be if we got her magic.”
She went to the fireplace and threw in a couple of logs. Sparks flew, and heat poured out as the flames rose higher.
“We need the rest of them.” She flung her hand at the spice bottle displayed on the mantel of the fireplace like a trophy. “You two can’t get anything done right. I’ll go out in the morning and sneak into the kitchen of her pie shop while she’s getting ready to open. She’ll have the spices out then.”
“What about her niece?” Stan watched the fire instead of his mother as he asked the question.
“I think I can take her,” Brenda said sarcastically.
“They still have the protection spells on the pie shop. You won’t be able to use your magic,” Dennis said.
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t need magic. I just need to be smarter than them. That shouldn’t be hard.”
Brenda pulled up the hood on her cloak, threw open the door, and was gone without another word.
Dennis bent down to pick up the chess pieces and the two of them got back to their game.
Chapter 1
Dear Elodie,
My husband and I are expecting our first child in six weeks. He recently informed me that he won’t be able to make it to the birth because of a “work trip”. Elodie, I am beside myself. When I ask him if he can reschedule this work trip, he says those are the only days the clients are available. I find that a little hard to believe. I would think any client would understand rescheduling a business trip to be there when your baby is born. We both love our jobs, but I sometimes feel like my husband uses his as an excuse to treat me badly. What do I do?
Sincerely,
Lonely Delivery
Dear Lonely Delivery,
My recommendation would be to go back in time and have a baby with someone else. Assuming that’s not a valid option, you should try to sit your husband down and have an open talk about your needs right now. He may be experiencing anxiety surrounding the birth. Now I completely agree that it shouldn’t be your job to soothe his nerves since you’re kind of busy growing a human, but sometimes life throws these curve balls at us. Tell your husband what you told me about using his job as an excuse. Try to keep your conversation productive and avoid accusations.
And congratulations on your first child!
Ask and I’ll Answer,
Elodie
I wiped a bead of sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand and surveyed the display case. It was packed full of pies. Only ten minutes until we opened.
Aunt Erma came out from the kitchen carrying a blueberry pie, her specialty. She wore a hat with felt antlers and jingle bells.
“What do you think? Do we have enough?” She stood next to me.
“Not if business keeps up the way it has,” I said. We’d sold out every day this week. Now that Aunt Erma was back and could teach me her secret recipes with her magic spices, customers had been pouring through the door.
She kept her spices under magical lock and key except when we were baking. As we still had a few pies to top off with a sprinkle of spice, the wooden box was sitting on the kitchen island. It was painted purple and covered in a glittery glaze with twelve glass bottles inside. Each one was labeled with a number written in green. Bottle number three looked a little different from the rest. That was the spice Alice had stolen, and the original bottle was still missing. Aunt Erma had replaced the bottle when she’d created a new batch.
The garbage can in the kitchen was overflowing so I wheeled it towards the back door, grunting as I tried to pull it into the alley without tipping it over. I took a deep breath and heaved the plastic bag out of the bin. A “meow” startled me and I dropped the bag. It burst open and garbage spilled at my feet. I held my breath as I made eye contact with a blue-eyed cat peering at me from behind the dumpster.
Just one month ago, before I knew anything about magic, Aunt Erma had been the cat in the alley. An evil woman named Alice had turned her into a cat and stolen Aunt Erma’s magic spices before opening a cookie shop and attempting to alter Aunt Erma’s magic spices so she could use them to control people. She was working with Stan, the pie shop’s former delivery man, and Stan’s parents, Brenda and Dennis Drake. Only Alice had been caught so far, and she was in some kind of magical jail. The exact details about what exactly was involved in magical lockup were still a little fuzzy to me, and no one seemed eager to fill me in. The Drakes were still on the loose, and they had escaped with one of the bottles of magic spice. A fact that had kept Aunt Erma and I feeling a little on edge the past few weeks no matter how much we tried to focus on our holiday pie preparation.
“Meow once if you’re human,” I said in a low voice. The cat meowed again, and my eyes widened.
“Are you talking to a cat?” Henry asked, appearing from around the corner. His brown eyes twinkled, and his wavy brown hair stuck out from under his dark green stocking cap. Henry was my almost boyfriend. We had been dating for a few weeks, and I think we were nearing that point in the relationship when I could begin to use the B word.
“How do you know this isn’t a person?” I asked, greeting him with a quick kiss.
“I’m magic,” he said with a smile. “And I know that’s Mrs. Peterson’s cat. He likes to do a lap around town every morning.”
I leaned in for another kiss, enjoying the giddy feeling of being in a new relationship.
“I have to go,” Henry said, sneaking in one more kiss. This time lingering for an extra moment before pulling away. “I’m in charge of the bingo game today, and I’ll never hear the end of it if I’m late.” Henry worked at the nursing home. “Do you need help cleaning this up before I go?” He motioned to the pile of garbage. The breeze had begun to carry some bits across the pavement, and if I didn’t clean it up quickly I was at risk of being ticketed by Sheriff Buddy for littering.
“No, no, I’ve got it. I don’t want to be responsible for keeping you from your bingo game.”
Once he was gone, I closed my eyes and quietly murmured a lifting spell that I hoped would take care of this mess. I tried to feel the energy around me, and channel it toward the garbage. I heard it shifting against the pavement. I focused harder. Even though I was new to magic, I’d already begun to accept that the impossible was possible.
A strange feeling made my skin prickle and my eyes snapped open. A couple pieces of garbage fell from the air back to the pavement. I saw a cloaked figure at the end of the alley. There was something familiar about the way she moved. It couldn’t be her, could it? We were both frozen, our eyes locked, and I shuddered. I think I moved first, but she sprang into action at almost the same moment. I don’t know what my plan was if I caught her. I hadn’t really expected something like this to happen. Of all the possible scenarios Aunt Erma and I had discussed, this wasn’t one of them. We didn’t think she’d show up in broad daylight. She disappeared around the corner. I was just seconds behind her, but she was gone. I ran to the next corner and looked up and down the street. I tried to catch my breath as my breakfast pie flipped over in my stomach and threatened to reemerge.
The street was beginning to fill up with morning shoppers, and a few heads turned my way. I forced a smile. I didn’t want anyone to guess that Brenda had just been here. It had happened so fast I almost questioned whether or not I had actually seen her. No, it was definitely her. I had to call Violet.
I scanned the street as I dialed. “Brenda was here.” My voice was quiet, but urgent.
“I’m on my way.” Violet hung up. I felt better knowing she’d be there soon. Violet and I had a rocky relationship. Back when I was running the pie shop alone, she’d kept coming in looking for Aunt Erma and making accusations. At the time, I’d thought she was a health inspector. I later learned she was a magic inspector, and a good person to have on your side.
I made my way back down the alley to the pie shop. I couldn’t help but glance over my shoulder a few times to check if Brenda was following me. Those green eyes. They were burned into my memory, and I would be perfectly happy never seeing them again.
Aunt Erma’s cries echoed into the empty alley and I ran through the open back door. She was leaning over the kitchen island, breathing hard. Her gray hair was a frizzy mess and her felt antlers were askew. A rolling pin was on the floor and a few of the pies we’d had cooling on the counter were now splattered across the kitchen.
“What happened?” I rushed over to Aunt Erma, my eyes scanning over her, looking for injuries.
“She was here. She got more.” She pointed to the box of magic spices on the edge of the kitchen counter. Two more bottles were missing. My heart sank.
Brenda must have circled back when I had chased her. How could I have let this happen? I should have stayed by the pie shop.
Now they had three bottles.
“Are you okay?” I asked. I put my hand on her shoulder, still looking to see if she’d been hurt.
“I fought her off. But not before …” Aunt Erma looked at the spice box, still breathing hard. “I had the advantage. She couldn’t use her magic in here, but she had the element of surprise on her side.”
Violet rushed in, her eyes wild.
“The Magic Enforcement Officers are out looking for her.” She grabbed Aunt Erma’s arm and looked her over. “Are you okay?”
Aunt Erma nodded and stood up a little straighter. “I’m fine. Brenda’s probably long gone by now.” Violet nodded. “She came out of nowhere. I didn’t expect her to come when I was right here. But she didn’t hold back. She’s desperate.”
“It’s my fault,” I burst out. They both turned toward me, surprised. “I ran after her down the alley. I should have stayed.” It all seemed so obvious now. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked Aunt Erma.
“I’m fine, and absolutely none of this is your fault,” she said firmly. She smoothed her hair down. “What’s the next step?”
“For you, nothing,” Violet said.
“But they’re my spices,” Aunt Erma protested.
“And as soon as we find them, you’ll be the first person we call. Until then, open the pie shop, and keep your eyes peeled.” As though on cue, there was a knock on the front door of the shop.
“I should be out there looking!”
“Erma.” Violet’s voice was softer than I’d ever heard it. “We have our best people on it. I promise I’ll let you know as soon as I hear something.”
Aunt Erma hesitated, then nodded.
There was another knock on the front door, and Violet slipped out the back.
Aunt Erma and I looked at each other for a minute. I bent down, picked up the rolling pin off the floor, and put it in the sink.
We plastered smiles on our faces and opened the pie shop to a small, anxious crowd who burst in full of holiday energy.
“So sorry. Everything’s fine. We just lost track of time,” Aunt Erma assured everyone as we quickly worked to serve them.
I kept picturing Brenda’s icy stare and tried not to visibly shudder. We couldn’t let word get out about the stolen spices. The last thing we needed was widespread panic. I looked at the crowd chatting about their holiday plans and felt envious of their ignorance. I wished I could focus on gift-giving and meal preparations and out-of-town guests instead of panicking about an impending magical disaster.
When I looked at Aunt Erma, I could see no trace of this morning’s traumatic events. She was steady and calm, laughing and joking with the customers. I envied her ability to compartmentalize.
***
Aunt Erma had let it slip once just how dangerous it was that the Drakes had one bottle of spices. We had gone to Sal’s bar one night to celebrate. We were celebrating a lot of things these days – our reunion, the fact that Aunt Erma wasn’t a cat anymore, years of missed holidays and birthdays – and Aunt Erma had introduced me to a drink called a Fairy’s Foot. I was a little hesitant because the name did not sound at all appealing, but it was actually quite delicious. Like drinking a chocolate milkshake. The smooth sweet flavor hid the fact that the drink packed quite a punch, and by our second glass Aunt Erma had completely lost her filter and was sharing information about her love life that would have made me blush if I hadn’t already been flushed from the drink.
“Make sure you find someone with good hands,” she was saying firmly. “The hands are just as important as the …”
“No!” I clapped my hands over my ears. “Tell me something else.”
She giggled. “Fine.” She took a deep breath. “I’m worried.”
“About what?”
“The missing spice bottle. Spice number three. Three, three, bo, bee.” She paused to take a sip of her drink. “The things they can do with that magic.” She shook her head.
“Like what?” I asked. My experience with the spices was limited, but I didn’t understand what would be so bad about them.
“The magic in them is so powerful because of the secret ingredient. That’s why you have to be careful to use just a little bit in the pies and make sure you’re focusing on the proper intention when you add them. I’ll explain it more to you one day. Maybe when I’m sober-er.” She clinked my glass with hers and began talking about highly inappropriate things again before I could ask her what the secret ingredient was.
Flora, Lena, and Mr. Barnes, more affectionately known as the Morning Pie Crew, rushed in the minute there was a lull. Flora’s bookshop was kitty corner from the pie shop, and I sometimes wondered how much of her day was spent peering in our windows. She always seemed to have a pretty good handle on what was happening in the pie shop.
Lena’s white hair was piled on top of her head in its usual bun, but her ever-smiling face was creased with worry. Flora’s big brown eyes scanned us up and down as though searching for injuries. Mr. Barnes was wearing his usual matching fedora and vest. He put his hands on my and Aunt Erma’s shoulders. I immediately felt some of my anxiety slip away. Mr. Barnes was a yoga teacher, and he specialized in calming magic.
“Are you okay? Are you okay? Are you okay?” Their voices filled the shop as they anxiously turned from Aunt Erma to me and back again.
“Yes, we’re fine.” Aunt Erma waved them away and started pulling plates out so she could serve them pie.
“How did you guys even know that Brenda was here?” I asked.
“Violet called me to ask if I’d seen anything,” Flora explained, fiddling with the sparkly white flower pin on her sweater. “I didn’t. I can’t believe I wasn’t watching.”
“Sit, and we’ll have our pie,” Aunt Erma demanded. I could tell some of her confidence was an act by the way she aggressively cut into the pies and scooped them out onto their plates. She didn’t like to be vulnerable.
I carefully took the plates from her and set them on the table.
“How’s everyone doing today?” I asked, giving them each a meaningful look.
They took the hint and struck up a conversation about today’s Ask Elodie, an advice column in the local paper. Today’s column was about a husband who was going to miss the birth of his first child.
I was one of two people in town who knew that Henry was actually Elodie. He liked to keep that secret because he didn’t want people hounding him when they didn’t agree with his advice. Plus, I think the mystery made people more intrigued by the column.
Flora couldn’t help herself for long though.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I heard her quietly ask Aunt Erma while Mr. Barnes and Lena argued about what constituted a good excuse for missing the birth of your child.
“We’ll get the spices back and everything will be fine,” Aunt Erma said.
She’d no sooner gotten the words out when Violet rushed in, her usually slicked-down hair now stuck out in a messy halo around her head.
“Come with me. It’s already happening,” she said urgently.
Aunt Erma jumped up and the rest of us followed suit.
“Since you all already know about Brenda and the stolen spices, you might as well make yourselves useful,” Violet said, a hint of her sternness returning. She turned to Flora. “Can we use your basement?”
The bookstore had a basement? I’d been there several times, but I’d only seen stairs going up to Flora’s apartment. Never a set going down.
“Of course,” Flora said. We left our half-eaten slices of pie and filed out the door. I reached back in to hang the “Back in ten minutes” sign before locking up.
Like soldiers getting ready for battle, we marched across the street to Flora’s. She led us to a small door in the back of the shop. Everyone but Flora had to crouch down to get through it.
We went down a dark narrow staircase to a room below. It was warm and cozy with a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf filled with old volumes. There was a quiet anxiousness in the room as Violet strode over to a computer with a large screen that sat on a deep mahogany desk. While we waited, Mr. Barnes cleaned his thick-rimmed glasses on the corner of his bright blue shirt. Lena reached over and patted down a stray chunk of his white hair that was sticking straight up on his head after he’d taken his hat off.
“Sit,” Violet demanded. We gathered chairs from around the room and pulled them up to the computer screen. I wasn’t sure what we were about to see. I smiled at Lena, hoping for reassurance, and she flashed a quick smile back at me. Her bright blue eyes lacked their usual twinkle. Violet stuck a thumb drive in the computer, and a black and white video started playing. It was taken from a high angle, looking down at a crowd walking along the street. A cloud descended on the group. It was hard to see exactly what it was in the grainy picture, but suddenly the people were taking slow, even steps. Some of them turned so they were all heading in the same direction. I shivered a little at the sight. Then suddenly everyone stopped walking. People looked around as though confused, and the crowd dispersed.
“They must be having trouble making the effects last very long,” Mr. Barnes said.
“But they’re going to make progress more quickly now that they have more spices to work with,” Aunt Erma said.
The video skipped ahead, and Stan’s parents popped up on the screen. Even in the fuzzy footage, I could recognize them. They were walking along, stopped, and looked straight into the camera.
“That’s strange,” Flora said, her brown eyes narrowed. “They know the camera is there. Why don’t they hide themselves better? They could have erased the footage if they really wanted to.”
“I thought so too,” Violet said. “The only conclusion I could come to is they wanted us to find them. That can only mean one thing. They’re trying to draw you out, Erma.”