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The Cinnamon Spellbook Bakery

Page 73

by Ella Cook

‘I’m stronger than I look.’

‘I guess this means we’re starting to decorate for Hallo… Samhain?’

Rayenne nodded, grinning.

‘But it’s only September.’

‘We told you – we start early here.’

‘With a thirty-inch pumpkin?’

‘Yup. Isn’t it beautiful?’

‘It’s certainly something.’

‘Obviously we’ll have more, but this will be a beautiful centrepiece. What do you think?’

‘What do I think?’ Aiden gawped at the monster gourd.

‘Well, you are the kitchen witch…’

‘I think I’m going to need a really big bowl for all the seeds and pulp. And probably more cocoa powder, because I have an idea for pumpkin spiced brownies…’

‘Sounds delicious. Do you want some help?’

‘I’m OK thanks. Like you said, I’m the kitchen witch.’ He chuckled, still getting used to it.

He’d just about finished with the squelchy, messy part of the pumpkin prep when people started arriving, and it turned into one of those days where customers seemed to be back-to-back with barely a chance to breathe in-between. Rayenne had a client while Ophelia took a walk-in tarot reading, leaving Aiden handling the store. He blasted through the day the best he could, relying on the shop to help guide him when it came to helping visitors find what they were looking for… whether they knew it or not.

He finally got back to the monster pumpkin and started carving out the face.

‘Owowowowow!’

Aiden shot back across the kitchen from where the knife still vibrated in the huge gourd. ‘What?’

‘I said Ow! Wouldna you say ow if someone stabbed a great big knife in your face?’

‘Ermm, Ophelia?’

She’s still reading. You sound… something. Did you explode more cakes? Mist sauntered to the kitchen door, careful not to set off the hygiene spells Ophelia had set.

‘No. But…’ Even knowing what he knew, he felt stupid saying it.

But what? Hurry up please, there’s a spot of sun I want to lie in some more.

‘The pumpkin… It’s, um… It’s saying I’m hurting it?’

Did you give it a mouth first?

‘Shouldn’t I have?’

Not if you want to carve in peace. Frank, he’s new. Leave him alone. Get out of the pumpkin if you want him to finish it.

‘This one’s mine still!’ The bright orange gourd vibrated and shook before the lid shot off and white mist swirled briefly while the pumpkin spun on the counter.

‘So, pumpkins can talk?’ Aiden gingerly reclaimed the knife. ‘And when Ophelia said Frank and his friends really like pumpkins, she meant…?’

They haunt them. Inhabit them. Animate them, to a certain extent. They are pests, but can be amusing.