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“Aye, something like that. We need to talk to Hilda and Archie. Let’s go,” I said, pulling Lia from the table.
“Wait, Munroe. What’s this?” Lia pointed to a leather book on top of the cutting board that I’d given Lia. The leather was old, worn in areas, and a Celtic knot was etched across the cover. A braided leather cord wrapped around the outside.
“I don’t know.”
“Let me see. Maybe the broonie left it,” Lia said, stepping in front of me. I leaned over her, dwarfing her with my height, but needing to keep my body around her in case the broonie acted up. From my understanding, they could be quite mischievous in nature. At least now I knew who had thrown the batter. Lia carefully unwrapped the cord and opened the book, gently nudging the pages open.
“It’s recipes,” Lia exclaimed. “But…more like. Like cooking recipes for…spells? For ailments? Oh, a love recipe? Is this a spell book?”
“Aye,” I said, leaning over to scan the page she’d landed on. “Look.”
“A book of Kitchen Witchery…” Lia gasped again. “A Kitchen Witch. This was left for me. On purpose. I think…”
“You think you’re a Kitchen Witch?”
Lia angled her head to look up at me over her shoulder. “I just might be.”
“Fascinating,” I said, a trill of joy rushing through me. “In that case, bring the book. We need to talk to the others.”
Of course I would fall in love with a Kitchen Witch.Amusement and excitement bloomed inside me. It was like all my fantasy books coming to life. My inner nerd couldn’t be more delighted with this turn of events.
“Oh, before we go…do you have any milk? Or cream?” I asked, stopping at the door.
“Why?” Lia demanded, her nose buried in the book.
“Best to put a bowl out by the hearth. For your new friend.”
“You can’t be serious.” Lia’s mouth dropped open. “Like for a cat?”
Something clattered in the other room.
“Wheesht,” I hissed, grabbing her arm, and moving her closer to the door. “Don’t be insulting it.”
“Oh God, I can’t believe this is my life right now,” Lia hissed. “Right, okay. Um, cream is out by the mixing bowl. Just grab one of the smaller bowls and pour some in.”
“On it.” With that, I left a bowl by the door to the banquet hall and followed Lia out to the garden where the sun just peeked through the clouds, and everything seemed simple and normal again. It was laughable almost, to go from running into a broonie and then casually walking away as though we were out for a romantic afternoon stroll. Either way, I couldn’t wait to hear what Lachlan would make of this. Of all of my friends, he had been the most resistant to believing in magick, and the fact that he accepted the Kelpies as real now showed just what huge strides he had made.
But a broonie? Oh yeah, this was going to be fun. It was almost as good as discovering aliens were real. Almost.
CHAPTERTEN
Lia
My thoughts were a tangled mess, like someone had dumped a bowl of silverware on the floor, as we crunched our way up the gravel path that led to the residential side of the castle. Sure, we could have used an interior passageway to reach the library, but I’d never lived in a building so large before and my navigation was shaky at best. Now I was fixated on the imposing stature of this pretty castle, and wondering just what a simple woman like me, Lia Blackwood, was doing here. The castle was as impressive as it was enchanting, both stately and welcoming, with a Saltire flag topping each of the four turrets. I’d never given much thought to turrets before, and now I wondered how many women had stood at the tiny windows through the years, gazing out over Loch Mirren, and perhaps also coming to terms with the fact that magick was real.
In so many more ways than I had ever expected.
Let’s be honest, I’d never given much thought to magick or the mythological before. I’d never been much of a dreamer, as dreams seemed the luxury of the idle or the well-off. I’d neither had the time, nor the money, to spend lost in fantasies. Restaurant hours were unforgiving, and adding culinary school on top of that had only made it certain that I’d rarely had a moment to myself for years now. Even so, on the rare days that I had a night off, I’d often use that time to watch a thriller movie or catch a concert.
I had this weird sensation that I was drifting along, caught up in the tide of something I didn’t quite understand, and that I was no longer in control of my own destiny. It was an unsettling feeling, to say the least, but what bothered me most is that I felt like I didn’t have all the information. How could everyone else around me quietly accept all of this magick while I was trying not to have a meltdown about some sort of hairy little goblin who had just left me a recipe book meant for Kitchen Witches?
Right. That too.
Kitchen Witch.
Perhaps I was the same as my great-gran, though my father hadn’t had much time to give me more information on that part of his family history before I’d left town. Was I a witch? I wiggled my fingers at the ground, silently commanding a piece of gravel to rise into the air, and when nothing happened, a hysterical giggle escaped.
“You alright then?” Munroe asked, and I turned to him, making a helpless movement with the hand that wasn’t holding the cookbook.
