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
