Witch Way to the Bakery Read online

  Witch Way To The Bakery

  Sweetland Witch Series

  Zoe Arden

  ReedFoster Press House

  A Cozy Mystery Book

  Contents

  Copyright

  Like my page

  For You Personally

  Dedication

  About The Author

  Personal Word from Zoe

  Prologue

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  Chapter One

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  Chapter Two

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  Chapter Three

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  Chapter Four

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  Chapter Five

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  Chapter Six

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  Chapter Seven

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  Chapter Eight

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  Chapter Nine

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  Chapter Ten

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  Chapter Eleven

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  Chapter Twelve

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  Chapter Thirteen

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  Chapter Fourteen

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  Chapter Fifteen

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  Chapter Sixteen

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  Chapter Seventeen

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  Chapter Eighteen

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  Chapter Nineteen

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  Chapter Twenty

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  Chapter Twenty-one

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  Chapter Twenty-two

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  Chapter Twenty-three

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  Chapter Twenty-four

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  Chapter Twenty-five

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  Chapter Twenty-six

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  Chapter Twenty-seven

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  Chapter Twenty-eight

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  Chapter Twenty-nine

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  Chapter Thirty

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  Chapter Thirty-one

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  Chapter Thirty-two

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  Chapter Thirty-three

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  Chapter Thirty-four

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  Chapter Thirty-five

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  Epilogue

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  Preview of Next Book

  Also By . ORDER OF BOOKS

  For You Personally

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2017 by

  Zoe Arden

  and

  ReedFoster press House

  All Rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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  DEDICATION

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  This book is specially dedicated to YOU- the reader!

  First of all, I would like to thank you for picking my book and reading it.

  Your interest to do so spurs me on to write even better stories, stories that will be capable in bringing us to a world of fun, mystery and suspense, albeit just for a little while.

  Your support has always meant a lot to me and I hope you will continue to enjoy reading what I have written.

  Thank you!

  “ The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible. ”

  Oscar Wilde

  Have you checked out my other cozy mystery books?

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  * * *

  It was from reading Agatha Christie’s mystery books that inspired Zoe to write cozy mystery novels. Zoe liked the fact that cozy mysteries are able to offer readers a form of escapism that typical detective stories can’t.

  Like what Marilyn Stasio, who has been the Crime columnist forThe New York TimesBook Review since the late 1980s, recently wrote: “The abiding appeal of the cozy mystery owes a lot to our collective memory, true or false, of simpler, sweeter times.” It is Zoe’s desire that her writings will evoke that nostalgic memory in all of us; those memories of the good old days.

  What sets Zoe apart in her writings is her fusing of Mystery with Paranormal elements, a combination which will bring about fantasies that are intriguing and engaging. Her stories contain unexpected twists and sometimes light-hearted moments that will make one smile at Zoe’s quirkiness, fun and wittiness in her writings.

  Much Love,

  * * *

  PERSONAL WORD

  FROM ZOE ARDEN

  * * *

  Hello, lovely reader!

  In my stories, you will find a unique juxtaposition of mystery and paranormal themes, an attempt which I believe will be enthralling.

  You will discover how a mystery case is being cracked through peeling off layers and layers of suspense and clues.

  And fantastical creatures play a part in this…how can it be?

  That’s for you to find out.

  Thank you once again, for being such an incredible support in my writing career.

  Much Love,

  Prologue

  .

  Colt Hudson checked his texts again as he made his way toward the elevators at the Council on Magic and Human Affairs.

  I need to speak with you. Today. ASAP.

  Dean had sent the message early this morning—or would it technically have been late last night? When Colt hadn't immediately responded, he'd sent another identical text. And another. And another. Until finally Colt had sent him back one. Okay.

  It wasn't that the late-night texting was such a big problem in and of itself, it was just that this was the third day in a row it had happened. His eyes were red and droopy, and it gave him the appearance of being severely hungover rather than simply sleep deprived. Normally, Colt's job did not involve him checking in with Dean every day but this new assignment was different.

  Today, Dean expected an answer from him. Colt still wasn't sure what that answer was going to be.

  Colt's job consisted of many things he didn't particularly enjoy doing. As an agent at the Council on Magic and Human Affairs (COMHA), he sometimes had to deal with magical creatures that were considered dangerous. There were the obvious things like vampires and werewolves, though most of the time they weren't nearly as dangerous as most people thought they were. Heck, his own father was a vampire, and he wouldn't hurt a fly... well, unless he was provoked. Then you'd better stand back.

  No, the truly dangerous creatures were the humans. If he hadn't known that before, he knew it now. Humans—full humans that w
as, half humans were much different, much safer—were curious. They had an expression they liked to use that he'd always thought was rather strange—curiosity killed the cat. He didn't like to think of this expression as he was particularly fond of cats. His girlfriend, Ava, had a fluffy white cat named Snowball who was more than adorable and liked to lick the tips of his fingers after he'd eaten fried chicken.

  He often thought that the correct expression should have been that curiosity killed the human. That's what seemed to happen so often, after all. At least in his world. A human accidentally saw a bit of magic that they shouldn't have, went to investigate, and bam! Dead!

  Now, sometimes it was their own fault, and sometimes it was the fault of the witch or paranormal using the magic. Witches and wizards had a hard time showing restraint when they were up to a particularly good bit of magic. He imagined it was the same way for writers or artists. You got on a roll with something that was really good, and you just didn't want to stop. By the time you were through, you'd painted the Mona Lisa when all you'd set out to paint was a toaster.

  Of course, if you were Leonardo Da Vinci, you might have set out to paint the Mona Lisa from the very beginning but then Leonardo Da Vinci had been a master wizard. Yes, a wizard. He'd always thought it curious that humans assumed he was one of them. Had they not seen and heard of the things Da Vinci could do? And unless you were a master wizard like Da Vinci, you were bound to make mistakes. Heck, even the masters made mistakes sometimes. This was when humans were most likely to die. If he could, he would warn all of them—don't investigate things that go bump in the night.

  Colt shook his head as he stood staring at the newspaper stand in the lobby.

  "Want anything, Mr. Hudson?" asked Ernie, the guy who ran the stand. Most people didn't buy newspapers anymore these days; you could get everything online. Except, of course, when it came to magic. Though there were hidden websites only the magical community knew about, sometimes it was just safer and easier to put them into a newspaper. Newspapers could be destroyed when you were through with them but what you put out on the web lasted forever.

  "No thanks, Ernie. I'm just looking."

  "You've been standing there for five minutes already. Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but..." He shrugged.

  Colt took a breath along with the hint. Time to move on.

  "See you later, Ern," he said as he resumed his trek to the elevators. This time, he made it without stopping. He got in and pushed the top button.

  There were two junior agents in the elevator with him. They kept shooting glances at him, pretending not to look while obviously looking. He couldn't entirely blame them, he supposed. Despite being constantly at odds with Dean Lampton, who ran COMHA, he'd risen to the top of the agency in the last year or so.

  Someone had told Colt at a lunch meeting recently that cadets were studying him in their training courses now. That was flattering but it also made him feel old. He was just in his mid-twenties but he supposed that in this business that was old enough to have made your mark. Especially when you were constantly at the center of things, as he had been ever since he'd moved to Heavenly Haven, an island off the coast of Florida that catered to its paranormal inhabitants and human tourists.

  Colt walked up to the reception desk. "I'm here to see Dean Lampton."

  The middle-aged woman with cat-eye glasses and a large bun on top of her head nodded. "He's expecting you. Go right in." She looked back down at whatever magazine she'd been flipping through, her job complete now that she'd given him this information. When he continued to stand there, she looked back up, blinking at him. "Something else I can help you with?"

  He shook his head. "No, I guess not. Thanks."

  He stepped in the direction of Dean's office, paused, and turned back. "Where's the bathroom?"

  She cocked her head to the side. "Down the hall on the left. You've been here a million times, I'd have thought you'd know that by now." Her mild chastisement over, she resumed flipping through her magazine.

  Colt made his way down the hall and pushed open the door. He stepped inside the washroom and went straight to the sinks. He looked at himself in the mirror. He wished he could have talked to Ava about this. His girlfriend was the best sounding board he had when he needed to bounce ideas around. She could have told him immediately what the right decision would have been. Should he or shouldn't he? She would have known the answer.

  But he couldn't tell her. Dean had expressly forbidden it, and Colt supposed he understood why. They couldn't risk things getting out, news spreading. More than that, though, it might have put Ava's life in danger, as well as the lives of everyone she loved.

  Colt splashed some cold water on his face. If his answer to Dean was no, he would be out of a job as of now, but if his answer was yes, he would lose everything he had. Including Ava.

  Maybe not. Maybe you're underestimating her. Maybe there's still a way...

  He screwed his face up, thinking. His thinking face was not one of his more attractive ones. He looked like a moose.

  "Maybe..." he said, an idea occurring to him. He hadn't thought of it before but now that it came to him, it seemed so obvious. The only problem was he didn't know what Ava would think about it. He liked to think he knew her well enough to read her mind but she was constantly surprising him.

  Colt dried his face off and went to Dean's office.

  "Enter," Dean barked from behind his closed door.

  Colt entered.

  "Took you long enough. Did you get lost?" It wasn't a serious question. Dean sat with his face red and pinched. One too-bright bulb glared at them from the side of the room, shining off Dean's head and highlighting his scalp, making him look even balder than he was. A bead of sweat ran down his temple. Dean wiped it away with his sleeve.

  "Are they ever gonna fix the air in this place?" Dean shouted. He pushed the button for his intercom and his secretary's voice rang out.

  "Yes, Mr. Lampton?"

  "Mildred, find out what the devil is going on with the air, will you? Tell whoever's in charge that if it doesn't get fixed soon, they're fired. As of yesterday."

  "Yes, Mr. Lampton." There was a click and then she was gone.

  Colt considered pointing out that the rest of the building's air seemed to be working okay. If Dean was that bothered by it, he could probably switch rooms for the afternoon until it was fixed. Part of him wondered if maybe whoever was in charge wasn't taking just a tad longer to fix Dean's air than they had to, for reasons which would boggle Dean's mind no matter how well someone tried to explain them to him. He thought that all his employees loved him.

  "Well?" Dean asked, lifting sweaty eyebrows.

  Colt rounded his shoulders back. "Yes. I'll do it."

  Dean smiled. "Good. I knew you would." He began rummaging through a stack of papers on his desk. "Now all I need you to do is sign a few papers, mere formalities, you understand. Says that you won't sue us if things go wrong, there's a few words about life and death, that sort of thing, nothing major. Nothing for you to worry about. Just sign the papers and you can be on your way tomorrow."

  "No, not tomorrow."

  Dean looked up now, the V in his forehead deepening. "What was that?"

  "Not tomorrow. It's one of my conditions."

  "Conditions?" Dean asked. "I don't like the sound of that. I don't like it at all. I set the conditions, not you or anyone else."

  "You need me. If you want me to do this for you, then you need to listen."

  Dean's eyebrows drew tightly together. "You listen—"

  Colt turned around and headed for the door.

  "Where are you going?" Dean shouted, rising from his desk. "Get back here."

  Colt stopped and turned around. "If you won't listen, then my answer is no."

  Dean shook his head, his hands balling up into sweaty fists. "You can't give me one answer and then take it back."

  "You can't send me to do a job like this and not expect me to tell the people I love wha
t's going on."

  Dean chuckled now. "I see. This is about Ava Fortune."

  "It is."

  Dean was shaking his head again, much more sympathetically this time. "You can't tell her. In fact, you'd do well just to break it off with her now. There's no way you can ever tell her the truth."

  "Not all of it but I can tell her some. Enough to satisfy her. Enough that I don't lose her."

  "It's impossible. Regulations stipulate—"

  "Regulations stipulate there's only one way that I can share that information with her."

  Dean's eyes widened. He scratched at his chin and took two paces left, two paces right. "If that's what you want to do... I suppose I can't stop you."