Page 22 of Chasing Stripes

NINETEEN

Artemis slid the pan into the oven, trying to recenter herself. “The book isn’t just family recipes anymore. I’ve been adding my own signature creations. My raspberry-lavender scones that help with memory recall. The lemon tarts that ease headaches.”

“And your dream-enhancing moon cookies,” Tilly added, arranging dahlias in a crystal vase. “Those have quite the following among the local witches.”

The kitchen fell silent save for the gentle ticking of the antique wall clock—another family heirloom, its hands shaped like delicate silver spoons.

“We need to discuss that, actually,” Tilly said, her tone shifting to something more serious. “I’ve asked Pandora to stop by this morning.”

Artemis paused in wiping down the counter. “Pandora Hurley? The one with the floating objects problem?”

“The very same. She helped with inventory last week, and she... noticed something concerning.” Tilly busied herself with the flower arrangement, avoiding Artemis’s gaze.

“What kind of concerning?” Artemis pressed.

Before Tilly could answer, the bell chimed again. A willowy woman with dark, arched brows and bright hazel eyes slipped inside. Her fitted black dress with subtle silver embroidery along the neckline seemed too formal for the early hour.

“Perfect timing,” Tilly said, gesturing her forward. “Artemis, you remember Pandora.”

“Of course.” Artemis offered a smile, though something about the woman’s magical signature had always felt slightly off to her fae senses. Not threatening exactly, but discordant, like a melody played in a minor key when you expected a major.

Pandora smiled back, her eyes darting around the kitchen. “Sorry to intrude so early.”

As she stepped farther into the room, small objects around her—a measuring spoon, a pencil, a sugar packet, and a small whisk—began to drift upward, orbiting slowly around her head like tiny satellites. She didn’t seem to notice, but Tilly gently plucked the items from midair and set them on the counter.

“It happens when she’s anxious,” Tilly explained in a stage whisper. “Latent telekinetic ability. Though it’s gotten more pronounced recently, hasn’t it, dear?”

Pandora’s cheeks colored slightly. “Ever since the night of the new moon. Not sure why.”

Artemis nodded sympathetically. Many supernatural beings experienced fluctuations in their abilities tied to lunar cycles. “You mentioned something about our missing book?”

Pandora’s anxiety visibly mounted. A flour sifter rose from a nearby shelf, spinning slowly above her right shoulder.

“I—I was helping shelve some ingredients in the storeroom last Tuesday,” she began, twisting her fingers together. “And I noticed someone... examining the book. Looking at it in a way that seemed—” She stopped, searching for the right word.

“Suspicious?” Artemis suggested.

“Calculating,” Pandora finished. “Like he was assessing its value rather than appreciating its history.”

The temperature in the kitchen dropped several degrees. Even the oven seemed to stutter in its heating cycle.

“Who?” Artemis asked, her heart quickening.

“Thaddeus Dartmouth,” Pandora said, nearly whispering the name. The flour sifter spun faster, joined now by a small jar of vanilla beans. “He said he was interested in ancient magical artifacts for his personal collection. That he could offer a substantial sum.”

Artemis frowned. The name sounded familiar—an elegantly dressed man who occasionally ordered blackberry scones but never made eye contact. “How did he even know about it? The book stays hidden.”

Tilly sighed heavily, her shoulders drooping. “That would be my fault. He approached me about historical artifacts from founding families. Seemed scholarly, interested in preservation.” She shook her head. “I might have... mentioned our book. In passing,” she added quickly, seeing Artemis’s expression. “Nothing specific about its contents.”

“And now it’s gone,” Artemis said flatly.

“Which brings us to why we need to talk,” Tilly replied, moving to lock the back door. With a flourish of her hand, she drew a silencing charm in the air—a precaution against eavesdroppers. “That book isn’t just about making pastries that sing or muffins that help you remember your dreams.”

“What are you talking about?” Artemis leaned against the counter, crossing her arms.

Tilly and Pandora exchanged a look. Then Tilly moved to the center of the kitchen and dimmed the lights with a wave of her hand. She drew a shimmering circle in the air, her fingers leaving trails of sparkling blue energy. The space inside the circle filled with a projection—floating images of the book, its pages turning on their own.

“The Honeycrisp Recipe Book serves a dual purpose,” Tilly explained. “For centuries, our family has been entrusted with keeping certain... information. Records too sensitive for the town archives.”

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