Page 65 of The Cinnamon Spellbook Bakery

‘Yeah. See you Friday… Ludmila?’

She snorted with laughter. ‘Not even close, Biker Boy, not even close.’

If she’d noticed that the streetlamps were glowing more brightly, taking on an almost pinky hue and illuminating the iridescent wings of moths that danced beneath them, she didn’t comment. He was certain she didn’t notice the heart-like patterns the insects twirled in.

That Friday, Aiden dropped the dirty jars and mortar and pestle into the sink in Glimmers’ little kitchen, dumped in washing liquid then reached for the scrubbing brush. He grabbed the first jar and started to scrub, only to feel the oddest resistance… like the water was thicker than it should be, or the brush was heavier. He lifted it out of the water and stared in confusion for a second or two: it looked normal enough.

Right until it tugged itself out of his hands and dived into the sudsy water.

What the actual…? ‘Uh, boss? Anything you might want to tell me?’ He watched as the water churned and foamed. ‘Like maybe about the kitchen?’

The sink turned into a whirlpool, making the jars rattle and complain as water sloshed over the sink. He jumped backwards, almost colliding with Ophelia.

‘Oh, it worked!’ She clapped her hands gleefully.

‘What, exactly, is “it”?’

‘I found a spell to help us clean.’

‘OK.’ He eyed the tidal wave of water sloshing over the bowl. ‘Do you think you can turn it down a bit?’

‘Turn it… Ooh!’

Aiden shoved her down as the brush flew over their heads and into the store, where it raced over the shop counter, sending receipts and paperwork flying. She said something he didn’t understand – words that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, but had zero effect on the brush, which launched itself at the shelves, scattering crystals and candles.

‘Ophelia…?’

‘I’m not sure…’ She shouted something, but the brush still zoomed around the store, scrubbing and spewing bubbles, changing direction randomly. ‘I might have given it a bit too much oomph!’

Aiden hit the floor, dragging her with him as the brush zoomed over their heads, close enough to leave a trail of bubbles in her curls. ‘You think? What do we do now?’ He pulled her behind the counter as it launched itself at the bath bombs, sending them fizzing and rolling all over the shop.

‘I have no idea.’

I suppose it’s down to me to sort this out. Mist leapt onto the counter. As usual.

She watched as the brush zipped around the floor, smashing into the newly released bath bombs and exploding them into plumes of colourful scent. I better be getting tuna for this. Or prawns. At the very least. Her tail twitched twice, and then she pounced, all claws and teeth. There were a few seconds of angry yowls, more soft poofs as bath bombs skidded across the floor and slammed into the walls, counters and furniture, and then it was over, with Mist sitting firmly on the brush. Would someone please deal with this? She sneezed five times in a row.

A minute later and the brush had been tied firmly to a table leg, where it spun hyperactively, anxiously scrubbing every inch of the floor it could reach. Rayenne was doing her best to wipe the multicoloured streaks of bath bomb from Mist’s fur as she cradled the cat in her skirts.