Unicorns and Honey Cakes Read online

  Unicorns and Honey Cakes

  Zoe Chant

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Epilogue

  A Note From Zoe Chant

  More Paranormal Romance by Zoe Chant

  Chapter 1

  Hmm, Gale MacEwan thought, slowing his car to a crawl as he stared out the window at the storefronts lining the street, that one might just work.

  Either way, he’d have to hurry up and make a decision soon, before someone reported a guy – him – driving very slowly down the street and staring out of his car window with intent. Except in this instance, his only intent was to try and buy lunch without causing an incident or creating a scene. Something that was becoming harder and harder over the past few days.

  Unless, he thought, addressing his unicorn where it sat inside his head, just as it always had, you want to be cooperative for once?

  The unicorn didn’t answer him in words – it just twitched its tail and tossed its head haughtily, pure white mane shimmering, single silver horn glistening.

  Just as I suspected, Gale thought grimly. Not a chance.

  He usually got along well with his unicorn – usually. Of course it could be ornery and pushy, but that was just part and parcel of sharing your head with a mythical being who was always very certain of exactly what it wanted, and when it wanted it. Gale was used to its ways, and he’d learned to ignore it if he couldn’t give it what it wanted the moment it wanted it.

  But that had been before.

  Before his unicorn had decided to send his life to hell in a handbasket, for absolutely no reason that Gale could figure out. Before it had decided that it’d put its unicorn powers to use not for good, but for… well, evil might be putting it a bit too strongly. But, certainly, inconvenience was not.

  The powers that came with being a unicorn were just as ancient as unicorns themselves. Gale’s parents had taught him how to use them from the time he’d been a young boy – how a unicorn’s natural harmony with nature could be used to grow plants from even the most barren of soils, how it could be used to grow and nurture all the bounty the planet had to offer. The plants that grew by a unicorn’s hand would be much more lush and green than any others – and the fruits and vegetables they tended would be far more delicious and flavorful.

  That was how he’d gotten his job, when he’d first decided he wanted to leave his small town, populated mainly by other unicorns, to see what else the world had to offer him. He’d been a sous chef, working at a restaurant that was famed for growing its own produce, even in the heart of the city – and while Gale had enjoyed his work, there was no getting around the fact that the typical eighty-hour work week working at a busy restaurant was a grind.

  He’d been getting burned out. He’d wake up, go to work, get home, go to sleep. That had been his life. More than once, he’d thought about returning home to his sleepy little unicorn town – but every time, he’d decided to put his head down and soldier on. He’d wanted to make his own way in the world, and he’d always known it’d be hard.

  What he hadn’t known was that his unicorn would apparently get fed up with it enough to make his powers go absolutely haywire.

  It’d started with a wooden spoon he was using to stir a soup. One moment, it’d been an ordinary wooden spoon. The next, bright green leaves had started sprouting from the handle, tendrils winding over his wrist and pink flowers bursting into bloom between his fingers. Gale had been so surprised that he’d just stared at the sudden life springing out of his normal kitchen implement, one he’d touched at least a hundred times before. He’d barely had time to whip a towel over the spoon to hide the flowers and leaves growing out of it before the head chef had turned around and seen it, and for the rest of his shift he hadn’t dared touch anything wooden without gloves on.

  What the hell was all that about? he’d demanded of his unicorn – but the unicorn hadn’t had a single thing to say to him to explain itself. It’d just stomped its hooves, tossed its head, and looked away, as if he should know what had gotten it into a bad enough mood as to start making his powers go so completely haywire.

  Well, Gale hadn’t. Which was bad, because from there, things had only gotten worse.

  Flowers had started sprouting from the earth around his feet during his shortcut through a park on his way to work, unfurling in pinks and blues and yellows from bright green buds, more brilliantly colored than any plant that naturally grew there, and definitely out of place in the middle of fall, when everything was in the process of turning red and orange. He’d had to sprint his way to a concrete path, flowers springing up in his wake, and hope that no one else had noticed the botanical mystery until he was gone.

  A wooden window frame he’d briefly touched on his way out had burst into sudden life, sending out little tendrils and leaves where his fingers had been.

  Even his old wooden chopping board, twenty years old if it was a day and deeply scored with knife cuts and stained with the juices of a thousand vegetables, had sent out a tender green shoot as he’d tried to make his dinner, which was proving difficult since the bell pepper he’d been trying to chop up had kept trying to bud.

  All right, he’d said to his unicorn, tossing his knife aside. You win. You want to tell me what’s up?

  But the unicorn hadn’t answered him – it had tossed its head, snorted, and stamped its cloven hooves, giving him a very clear look of utter disgust.

  I don’t know what you want if you don’t tell me, he’d argued with it, as it swished its tail, showing him its rear end.

  You know what we need, was all it had said, ears twitching. You know what you need to do.

  And Gale supposed he had. He was overworked. He was living in the middle of a city – not a normal habitat for a unicorn.

  What he needed was a break – to take time out to reconnect with the natural surroundings that were so important to unicorns.

  Or so he’d thought.

  Because taking this trip out to the mountains had done nothing to either satisfy his unicorn or stop his unruly powers.

  Which was why he was now very slowly driving his car past a line of quaintly beautiful mountain town storefronts, looking for ones that had concrete paths all the way up to their doors, and thanking his lucky stars that his steering wheel cover was apparently made of synthetic leather, since, if it had been real, after spending six hours driving with his hands on it today, the whole cow probably would have grown back from it by now.

  All right. That one, Gale decided. Sure, there was a strip of grass between the parking space and the sidewalk, but he could jump that. Whatever the case, his growling stomach needed some food in it.

  Parking his car, Gale got out and made his way up to the sidewalk, springing over the wide strip of grass. Hopefully anyone watching would just think he was feeling extra exuberant today.

  The shop he’d chosen also had another of his requirements: the door had no wood in it whatsoever. It was glass and metal. Things his unicorn powers didn’t work on. Or not yet, anyway – maybe if his unicorn got into an even fouler mood, he’d be proved wrong.

  The shop itself was typical of a tourist town: it featured a nice selection of savory snacks, perfect for families passing through on their way to a rural mountain retreat, which he guessed made up the bulk of these shops’ customer base. This place certainly had all the quick, not-necessarily-healthy-but-definitely-delicious food anyone could want: hot dogs, burgers, chicken fried steak, fries and onion rings, and Gale’s mouth was already watering as he let his eyes drift over the menu
.

  “Heya, hon,” a woman said as she bustled out from the kitchen out the back. She had a brassy blonde dye job and wore an apron stretched across an impressive bosom, and she eyed him with a vaguely curious air. “Just passing through, are we?”

  Gale thought he detected a slightly more interrogative note in her voice aside from simple country town curiosity, but nonetheless, he nodded. “Yeah. Just on my way out to a cabin in the woods. But it’s been a long drive.”

  “Hmm. Hmm. I see,” the woman said, her eyes raking him up and down as if assessing his claim. Gale felt strangely naked under her gaze. Finally, she pursed her lips and shrugged her shoulders slightly, her examination of him apparently complete. “Well, what can I getcha?”

  “A chili dog, please, fries on the side, and… onion rings,” Gale said, deciding that if he was going to get something, he may as well go all out.

  The woman rang up his order, and he paid by card – none of the paper money he’d touched had turned back into a tree yet, but with his unicorn being this difficult, Gale wondered if it was only a matter of time.

  As soon as he’d paid, the woman bustled back off the way she’d come, the kitchen doors swinging in her wake. From behind them, Gale heard her voice ringing out as she directed the fry cook to get his order ready.

  Gale couldn’t help but smile as he turned away, looking out the wide front windows while he waited. The little town here really was beautiful, he reflected wistfully, staring across the road to where the forest on the other side of the street came right up to the side of the road. Even in fall, the massive cedar trees that covered this mountain were dark green and lush, interspersed with the brilliant yellows and oranges of the smaller trees that grew between them, their fall colors on full display.

  We could live somewhere like this, his unicorn snorted, tossing its head. Somewhere where we can smell the earth and feel the leaves beneath our hooves. Somewhere where we can shift and run and feel the air as we gallop.

  Gale had to admit, the thought sent a wistful pang through his chest. Maybe his unicorn had a point. Maybe he had been in the city too long.

  If I promise to consider it, will you stop causing trouble? he asked – but, as per usual, the only reply he got was a baleful stare and a tossed head, and no proper answer at all.

  It truly was beautiful here, though, Gale admitted, tearing his eyes away with some difficulty as he heard the door to the kitchen swing open again, and the woman returned with his food.

  “Take a seat, hon, I’ll bring it over to you,” she said as she walked at a swift clip around the counter. Gale could already smell the chili dog from here, and his mouth was watering. Long practice made it easy for him to pick out the individual ingredients as the woman set the plate down in front of him – he could smell the fresh bread roll, mustard, cheese, ketchup, chili sauce, and the sprinkling of raw onion over the top, just for a bit of extra spice. The fries and onion rings were clearly fresh out of the fryer, crisp and still sizzling a little.

  “Best chili dog you’ll ever eat,” the woman told him, standing with a hand on her hip, her piercing eyes reminding him, slightly disconcertingly, of a bird of prey sizing up a field mouse. “You come far to get here?”

  “Pretty far,” Gale said, picking up a French fry and popping it in his mouth.

  Mmm.

  It tasted just as fresh as it looked. Perfect.

  “And you’re just here for a holiday, you say?”

  The woman’s questions were rapidly starting to feel like an interrogation, but Gale just nodded. Maybe the people around here were just naturally inquisitive. “That’s right.”

  “Hmm. Hmm. I bet.”

  Gale wasn’t sure what that was supposed to imply, but either way, the woman zipped her way back behind the counter, leaving him to eat his food in peace – and she was right, it really was the best chili dog he’d ever tasted.

  Sometimes it was in these little places that you’d find unexpected gems like this, Gale reflected as he used his fries to clean up some of the chili that had fallen out of the bun and onto his plate.

  “Well, what’d I tell you?”

  Gale looked up to find the woman observing him from behind the counter, eyebrow raised, expression expectant.

  “Delicious,” Gale said honestly. “If I thought my cholesterol levels would ever forgive me, I’d eat here every day.”

  “Hah. Cholesterol.” The woman rolled her eyes, as if daring cholesterol to come anywhere near her – and at that moment, Gale truly believed it wouldn’t dare. “But I guess in your line of work, you gotta be careful. You gotta watch that figure of yours.”

  Gale blinked. In my line of work…?

  It was true – chefs did have to be a bit careful not to overindulge, and remember they couldn’t just exist on free leftovers. But how could this woman tell he’d worked in restaurants?

  Maybe she was just a canny one.

  “You’re right,” he said, nodding. “But I can still eat a chili dog every now and then.”

  “Heh. Well, I’m glad your refined tastebuds can still appreciate some good, down home cooking,” the woman said, nodding with approval. “Good for you.”

  Shaking his head, Gale couldn’t help but laugh. “How’d you know? I mean, it’s not like I have a sign above my head or something like that.”

  “You have to get up pretty early in the morning to get one over on ol’ Eula,” the woman – Eula, apparently – said with satisfaction. “You’re not as mysterious as you’d like to think.”

  Gale didn’t think he’d been all that mysterious – he’d only ordered a chili dog! – but still, he shot the woman a grin. “Maybe I’m not.”

  “Well then, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way,” Eula said, crossing her arms across her expansive bosom, “if you’ve got a mind for something sweet after that chili dog and fries, you should head on over to Sylvie’s Sweets and Bakery. It’s only a few minutes farther up the road. You can remember that name, can’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Gale said, nodding. And he could, too – Sylvie’s Sweets and Bakery. Something about the name seemed to ring a little bell in his head, almost as if he’d heard it before, though he knew that couldn’t be the case. He’d never been here before in his life.

  “You make sure you go to Sylvie’s,” Eula said sternly. “Not the bakery down the street. The only one you want to bother yourself with is Sylvie’s.”

  Gale promised he’d remember, before thanking Eula and heading back out into the chill of the fall afternoon. He wondered what her insistence on his going to Sylvie’s Sweets and Bakery was all about – though, knowing a small town like this, it was probably some family feud that’d been going on for generations, and no one even remembered what it was about anymore. He knew all about those – he’d grown up in a place like this, after all.

  Still, he was preoccupied enough that he forgot to watch his step as he headed back to his car, and the toe of his shoe touched the strip of grass at the edge of the sidewalk.

  Immediately, a vibrantly yellow burst of buttercups sprang into life around his foot, a patch of sudden color against the green of the grass. Gale jumped back, but it was too late – they bobbed their heads happily in the slight breeze that gusted down the street, cheerful and bright yellow. Gale glanced over his shoulder, wondering if anyone had noticed, but the very few people on the street didn’t seem to be paying him any mind, and if Eula was watching him from the window of her shop, he couldn’t see her through the reflection of the cedar forest on the glass windows.

  Will you cut this out?! he asked his unicorn as he jumped over the grass and unlocked his car door. We’re here, aren’t we? And I said I’d consider it!

  The unicorn was uninterested. It swished its tail, tossed its head, and completely ignored him.

  Fine, be like that, he told it as he sat down. He was annoyed enough about its attitude that despite the chili dog and fries he’d just eaten, he thought he might just treat himself to some
thing at Sylvie’s Sweets and Bakery.

  Well. Provided Sylvie’s Sweets and Bakery didn’t have a wooden door.

  Chapter 2

  “Oh, come on. What the hell?”

  Sylvie Taylor skidded her bike to a halt, staring at the atrocity before her.

  Well, it wasn’t so much an atrocity as it was a very, very attractive window display of freshly baked pies – it actually would have been better if it was an atrocity, because as it was, the beautiful stack of golden-brown apple pies in front of her was way worse.

  Sylvie stared at the pies, and at the blackboard next to them, advertising exactly what they were, just to make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her.

  Nope, she thought grimly, as she read over the beautiful white chalk calligraphy for the third time, that’s exactly what it says. Apple and thyme pies.

  She sniffed the air, taking in the heavenly scent wafting out of the bakery door.

  And from the smell of things, there’s cinnamon too. And –

  Another sniff.

  Aw, man. They even got my secret weapon. Bay leaf.

  Sylvie could feel her heart sinking into her shoes.

  How does this keep happening?!

  Once, maybe Sylvie could chalk up to coincidence. Twice, weird, but okay. But five times now this bakery – this new bakery, Johnson’s Pies and Bakery – had, suddenly, out of nowhere, started selling a new product that she’d spent weeks planning and perfecting to sell at her own shop, Sylvie’s Sweets and Bakery.

  The apple and thyme pies were something she’d spent at least a couple of weeks getting just right: not too sweet, not too savory. Just enough cinnamon to give it a little bit of spice. The secret bay leaf gave it a hint of something extra. It was a little different, Sylvie knew, but she thought it would be intriguing to people looking for a twist on an old favorite.