Page 88 of Baking and Angels

Then she sighed, shifting her stance. “Look, this isn’t my decision. I am just here to facilitate your big transition. If there is something you need to tell her, then you better tell her. Otherwise, it will become the slow poison that destroysyou both.”

Chapter 34

Lavender Lemon Sugar Cookies

Rafferty didn’t notice the ride home. It was like he had fallen asleep on the way back to Helena’s house, but suddenly the driver spoke up. “Is this it, sir?” he asked. Blinking, Rafferty looked out the window and realized that they were indeed in front of it.

“How much do I owe you?” he asked as he slipped off theseatbelt.

“If you’re paying cash, let’s just call it $40 even,” the driver said.

Rafferty had no idea if that was a fair price or not, but he counted out two $20 bills and passed it to the driver.

As he fit his new key into the lock and turned it, his nose was greeted by a very distinct and specific burning smell as soon as the door cracked open. It harmonized with a sharp, rapid beeping sound.

“Goddammit!” Helena’s voice cried, followed by several metallic crashes followed by an unearthly animal scream. Spurred forward, Rafferty slammed the door and rushed through. The air in the house was filled with smoke, and more of it seemed to be streaming from the kitchen.

“Helena!” he called as he burst through into the kitchen, the swinging door whamming hard in its jamb atthe force.

Then he came to a full stop in shock at what he was seeing.

Ingredients were everywhere: flour and sugar spilled on the counter next to a bowl filled with some sort of dough, a bit of it splattered on the walls. Smoke trailed out from an open oven. A baking sheet lay splattered on the floor with mounds of something burnt brown and black on its surface… and across the floor. And Helena was chasing a black cat throughout the room whose tail was very much on fire.

“Pooka, stop!” Helena cried as she tried to catch her desperate animal, the creature’s medium-long fur standing completely on end, trailing burning bits of ash from her cindering tail. Her eyes wild, she scrambled into the corner by the back door, desperate for escape and, apparently, determined to do it through the wall if she had to.Failing that, she then made a desperate attempt to escape through the rapidly swinging doorbehindRafferty.

Thinking quickly, Rafferty only had enough time to grab a dishtowel from the counter closest to the door and drop it down as he pounced on the cat before she could pass through his legs. Using the towel to protect his hands from her scrabbling claws, he turned on his heel to head to Helena’s bathroom. Kicking the handle of her shower with a foot, he stepped into the shower with the cat, just as the water hit them both. The stream hit the tail and put out the fire instantly, but now the cat had an even more distressing problem: she was completely wet. Bowing herself in an impressive show of flexibility, Pooka managed to twist around and sink her claws into Rafferty. Or rather Rafferty’s coat.

It didn’t hurt him but gave her the purchase to free herself from his grip; the feline fell splat onto the bathroom floor and took off to parts unknown.

“Rafferty, are you okay?” Helena called, appearing at the bathroom door in time for the cat to blaze, or actually not blaze technically, past her. She yipped as she jumped back while Rafferty cranked off the shower to stop it from making himmore wet.

“Pooka!” Helena called, chasing after the cat, and he got his sopping self out of the shower.

“I guess the cat is home?” he called out.

“Yeah,” Helena shouted back. “The BDI dropped her off for us. Not that I think she’s happy now tobe home.”

Hauling off his wet coat, he let it slap onto the floor and left the bedroom to survey the damage in the kitchen. It looked as bad as he remembered. Braving the smoke, he went to the window and hauled it open, then turned to the fire alarm and tapped the button to shut it off. At last, there was quiet, and he could think.

Just then Helenacame back.

“She seems to have hidden herself under the bed. I’m going to have to lure her out with tuna or something,” Helena said, coming to a stop at the swinging door of the kitchen.

“What the hell did you do?” he asked, gesturing tothe room.

“I… haveno idea.”

Rafferty couldn’t help it. He broke downlaughing.

Helena didn’t laugh with him, looking more mournful as she squatted down. “They were supposed to be cookies,” she said as she picked up the dark-brown-to-charred pieces, putting them back on the cooled baking sheet.

Rafferty turned to her mixing bowl and brushed his fingers through his wet hair to slick it back. He picked up the bowl, stirring the contents inside and measuring with his eyes the texture and consistency of her future“cookies.”

“I don’t think these were ever going to be cookies. What did you do?”

“I told you; I don’t know! I thought it would be so easy tomakecookies of all things and that it might be nice for you to come home to the warm smell, you know? And I wastryingto be good and not use any magic to make them since you don’t like that.” She threw some of the cookie pieces onto the sheet so hard that they bounced rightoff again.

He set the bowl aside and dropped down to help her. “Thank you,” he said, trying to give her a smile to show his appreciation.

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