Red velvet cake is delicious.

I mean, it’s cake, so, obviously.

And Igor cooked it, so, double obviously.

With that many obviouslys tacked on, everyone was forced to acknowledge the chef’s wizardry. Since Darius was still asleep, that meant that it was mostly me and Conrad—

Okay, me. It was mostly me. Because I’m loud like that when you put sugar in front of me.

But Conrad mentioned how beautiful it smelled, and when Igor passed Olivia the first slice, she offered him a quiet thank you.

Igor and I stared at each other. The witch’s cheeks turned pink under her smattering of freckles.

I didn’t know what to say, but Igor had long ago discovered that a good, grumpy harrumph fit in almost any situation. And if it didn’t naturally fit, he would make it fit.

After his loud harumph, He nodded toward me. “If there’s any thanks owed, you can send it over to Miss Cole there.”

Treason! It’s one thing for Olivia to have every reason to guess it was me that asked for the cake, but it’s another thing entirely for him to confirm it.

Before I could voice my indignation, Igor went on.

“She’s the one that drove into town to fetch the cream cheese.”

“You told me it was indispensable,” I cried, “and Mrs. Park had already left for the mansion!”

You’d think we were two toddlers, trying to foist the blame on each other.

Olivia decided to settle the matter.

“Thank you again, Igor.” She picked up her fork and poked at the cake. “God knows, Emerra needs as much practice driving as she can get.”

I smiled. That was the witch I knew.

Igor usually ate alone in the kitchen, but that night he stayed with us to enjoy the cake, just like he had on my birthday. Olivia was silent throughout Igor’s impromptu lecture on the history of cakes, but Conrad and I enjoyed it. There was nothing that man didn’t know about food.

We had finished our dessert, but Igor was still answering Conrad’s question about the difference between angel food cake and sponge cake, so I stood up and started gathering the plates.

Igor immediately cut himself off, mid-sentence. “I clear up.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got this.” I picked up Olivia’s plate and dessert fork. “Weren’t you saying something about eggs?”

“Do you have any idea how much that china is worth?”

As I walked into the butler’s pantry, I called over my shoulder, “What was that, Igor? I can’t hear you over the sound of all the dishes I’m breaking!”

Kappa, my beloved two-foot-four bog-monster, was in the kitchen, on the counter, eating his nightly bowl of slop. He looked up as I came in.

“Mera!” he said, spitting a few flecks of food toward me.

“Go on, Kappa. Finish your food before it gets dry.”

He needed no other encouragement to dive back in.

I didn’t know how much china was worth, but no one makes a comment like that unless the value hovers somewhere between “expensive” and “ridiculous.” It was with great care that I rinsed and stacked the dishes I had brought in.

I heard someone come into the kitchen through the butler’s pantry and assumed that it was Igor.

“Even if it did have food coloring,” I said, “the cake tasted marvelous.”

“I didn’t know you could make it without the coloring,” Olivia said.

I turned. She was leaning on the kitchen island. After a second, she pulled out one of the tall stools and sat down.

She said, “If you’d asked me the difference between Dutch and non-Dutch cocoa, I would’ve said it was where it came from.”

Feeling slightly awkward under her gaze, I turned back to my task. “Well, happy birthday, Olivia. I’m a little rusty at it, but if you want me to sing—”

“Not necessary!”

Since my back was to her, she couldn’t see my grin. “Just offering.”

When I put the last plate on top of the others, Kappa nudged his dish toward me.

“All done?” I asked.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

He belched. I took that as a yes and started rinsing the dish.

As he reached for the stack of dessert plates, I called out a warning. He turned his attention to the silver. I figured he’d have a harder time breaking that, so I didn’t interfere.

Olivia said, “My friend is missing.”

That was it. There was no notice of any kind—nothing but a bomb of pure information. Without any warning to prepare me, it took a second for me to comprehend what she’d said. Once it clicked, my brain went into a minor fervor, trying to figure out what it was supposed to do with that nuke. I was pretty sure that sympathy was called for. Surprise was already there and growing by the second. There was also a mean, bemused speck of my psyche that felt compelled to think, Olivia has friends?

I knew that speck was being needlessly cruel, so I told it to go sit in a corner and think about what it had done.

After turning off the water, I put Kappa’s dish near the others and grabbed the hand towel hanging nearby to dry my hands. Then I turned and leaned back on the counter.

“What happened?” I asked.

“We don’t know.” Olivia studied the island’s countertop. “We don’t even really know if he’s missing.”

He, I noticed.

“You sounded a lot more sure a second ago,” I said.

Olivia’s face jerked up. “I am sure.”

“Okay,” I said. “How can you be sure and not know?”

“The problem is that he’s a mature adult, and he wasn’t in any trouble. He’s just gone.”

A “mature adult.” Olivia was a serious girl. She wouldn’t go slinging that term around for a twentysomething. Her missing friend was probably a generation or two older than her. And that meant the man was unlikely to be Olivia’s crush.

I put my unreasonable disappointment in the corner too.

“And you’re sure—” I started.

“I’m sure.”

I noted the confidence in her voice, but I was more inclined to pay attention to the tiny web of wrinkles that appeared on her forehead when she furrowed her brow.

“You’re worried,” I said.

I should have tacked on a question mark. Maybe then she wouldn’t have gotten so angry.

“You think you know how I feel?” she demanded.

“Um? Yes?” I said. “I mean, your friend is missing and you don’t know what’s going on. Wouldn’t…wouldn’t it be normal to be worried?”

Her flare of anger subsided.

I felt someone pawing at my shirt sleeve. Without looking away from Olivia, I held my arms out for Kappa to climb into them. He perched himself on my hip and rubbed his face all over my shirt, streaking it with the specks of dinner that had been left around his mouth and the water-slash-sunscreen that oozes from his skin.

That’s me. A napkin for the world’s slimiest toddler.

“What’s witchy doing?” Kappa asked.

When I looked into his massive black eyes, I saw myself reflected in them. “Her name is Olivia. Oh-live-e-ah.”

He continued to stare at me.

I had a hunch that the reason Kappa was so fond of me was because he could reduce my name to two syllables that were easy to yell.

I went on, “And right now she’s worrying.”

“I’m not—” Olivia covered her face with her hand. “I’m…I’m trying to ask for a-a favor.”

Wow. She stumbled over that sentence a bit. But that was to be expected. It was probably the first time she’d ever said it.

“From me?” I said.

“No, Emerra, from Kappa. Because he’d be so much help.”

There are many things I don’t respond well to, but that particular sarcastic tone has to be near the top of the list.

“Oh. Well.” I stepped over to the kitchen island and deposited the bog-creature right in front of her. “I won’t get in your way then.”

Kappa eyed Olivia and muttered, “Witchy, witchy, witch.”

“Take good care of her, Kappa!”

I headed toward the door to the hall, but I only managed a step before Olivia grabbed my sleeve.

“Wait. I’m sorry. Look—that was rude of me, and…I’m sorry.”

I glanced at her. There was no actual apology in her manner, but she’d managed to choke out the words. In a weird way, that gave me a glimpse into how much this meant to her. Olivia asking for a favor was rare; Olivia trying to appease another person was unheard of.

Kappa stood up on his hind legs and reached for Olivia’s long red hair.

I didn’t feel obliged to point this out to her, but I did turn to face her.

When she saw that I was willing to listen, she launched into an explanation.

“Tomorrow I’m driving down to give that stupid report to my coven. That’ll give me a chance to look around and try to figure out what happened. Big Jacky’s coming with me, but…”

Her voice trailed off.

But we both knew that Big Jacky wasn’t always a help. He was the embodiment of death, so he tended to miss out on some of the subtleties of life. Empathy was not his strong point, and the motivations of others had to be painstakingly explained to him. Even then, you couldn’t guarantee he’d understand. Other people didn’t always know how to take him.

Kappa sniffed at Olivia’s hair. She didn’t notice.

“What about Darius?” I asked.

He seemed like the natural choice. The vampire had been in law enforcement for a really, really long time. He’d know what to do.

“He’s busy with his own case,” Olivia said, “and I don’t want to bother him unless I have some kind of proof there’s been a crime. Besides, even if I could get Darius to come, I’d still be asking for your help.” Her jaw moved, but no words came out. She clenched her teeth for a moment, then managed to say, “You have a gift, Emerra. Will you help me?”

A few wily seconds slipped by before I answered.

“Sure.”

Olivia let out her breath. Her shoulders sank and the lines of tension around her eyes disappeared. “Thank you.”

Since I’d agreed to help her, I decided to start making good on the promise.

I motioned to the bog-monster oh-so-gently lifting a lock of her hair. “Kappa’s trying to eat your hair again.”

“Kappa!” Olivia stood up and stepped away from the kitchen island.

The hair slid out of his webbed hand before Kappa could finish closing his fist around it. He grabbed the edge of the counter and leaned toward his disappearing prey.

“Ohhh,” he whined.

I picked him up. “Ten out of ten for effort, buddy, but it’s not a good idea to bother a witch.”

“Why?”

“She might turn you into a prince.”

Kappa tilted his head to the side, his nose crinkled up, and one side of his mouth lifted. He let out a chirp-ish burrup noise that I am one-hundred percent certain is bog-monster for “huh?” My love of that noise was at least ninety-percent of why I teased him.

Olivia said, “Can you be ready to leave early tomorrow? It’s almost a five-hour drive and we need to be there by eleven.”

“Six in the morning?” I said. “Yeah, I can manage that.”

“Pack for a few days. We probably won’t stay, but—just in case.”

“I’ll start packing once I put Kappa to bed,” I assured her.

She nodded, then left the room via the door to the hall.

Kappa looked up at me. “Are you leaving?”

“Only for a few days.”

“But why are you leaving?”

“Oh, you know,” I murmured. “People matter.”

As the words tumbled out of my mouth, I caught sight of Igor leaning on the doorframe that led to the butler’s pantry.

When our eyes met—or, rather, my eyes met his smaller right eye—he pushed away from the doorframe and finished coming into the room. He was carrying the last of the dishes.

I stepped out of the way so he could reach the sink.

“I tried to warn you.” Igor shook his head as he passed me. “It’s always a bother.”