9 ~ Matt

"What are you making?"

I'd been concentrating so hard I hadn't heard Ben's approach, and his voice startled me so badly I dropped the two eggs I'd just taken from the carton. They hit the hard, polished wood of the kitchen floor and broke, whites and yolks splattering in a spangled pattern.

"Oh...shoot," I sighed. There were only two eggs left, and I'd been planning to eat them for breakfast. Now I'd have to use them for my recipe and find something else for my morning meal.

"Yikes—sorry," Ben laughed. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"Not your fault," I said over my shoulder, and bit my lip.

Part of my reaction stemmed from guilt, and I hastily covered the open book on the counter with a dishcloth before grabbing the paper towels and kneeling to clean up the mess.

Ben grabbed a damp rag and joined me to help. "Jeez, what's it say about a guy when seeing ghosts is a thrill, but his own husband makes him jump out of his skin?"

He was teasing, being playful, but it only reminded me of why I was sneaking around baking magick-infused cupcakes at seven in the morning.

Over the past two days, ever since I bought/stole the book from Chris and Jeremy's shop, I'd been tempted to do as two of my friends—one living and one dead—suggested and simply sit Ben down, confront him, and ask him for the truth.

How does he really feel?

Is he really happy here, with me?

Does he love who I'm becoming, or only who I used to be?

Every time I got close, though, I'd been too scared to risk it. I don't really believe he'd lie, but I also don't believe he'd tell the truth. Not the whole truth, anyway, and as much as it scares me, I know that I need to hear it.

And I only want to have to hear it once.

That's why I'm going ahead with my plan, which is to feed my husband a spell hidden in a cupcake, which will...encourage...him to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help him gods.

"Cupcakes?" Ben asked, having finished wiping up the remains of the unfortunate eggs and looking at the recipe book I have propped open on the counter. "Something new for the cafe?"

"Yep," I confirmed, jumping at the offered excuse. "Wouldn't they look cute with little paw-prints on them?"

"Adorable," Ben agreed, sliding his hands around my waist and pressing himself to my back. "Just like you."

"I need to finish this and get to work," I said, moving out of his reach and retrieving the last two eggs from the fridge.

Ben frowned but wasn't ready to give up quite yet. "Hey, why don't we take a few days off next week?" he asked, holding my elbow and making me turn towards him. "Get out of town for a bit. Relax. Have some fun. What do you say?" He grinned, but I felt only a sinking feeling in my gut.

"I don't think so, Ben," I said slowly. "I know you don't think what I do is real work, but I take it seriously, you know."

Also, we already have a vacation planned for the week after next, for our anniversary—a fact, it seems, he may have forgotten.

His eyes widened with surprise. "I know you do, sweeting," he insisted, brushing some flour from my cheek with his thumb. "I never said otherwise."

Not to me, no.

"Hey, let me finish this," I said, pushing him away. "You can be my taste tester," I added, and smiled.

"There's my lover," he laughed and kissed the bridge of my nose. "Can't wait."

He threw me what he probably thought was a roguish wink on his way out (it made him look like he had something wrong with his eye) and I waited until I heard his office door shut before I returned to my task.

Quickly whipping up the rest of the batter, I prepared to work the little spell outlined in the book. I'd taken some liberties with the instructions—it was actually supposed to be performed in tandem with a willing partner over a shared glass of wine, or another red-colored drink. The description said it was a 'trust bonding ceremony,' and while I was using it because I lacked trust, I figured the correlation was close enough.

Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I grounded and centered myself just like Annabel had taught me, following my breath deep within and finding the quiet place where my core energy rested in the space below my heart and behind the bottom of my ribs. I envisioned it as bright pink struck through with gold. I made sure it was quiet and still, and then I opened myself up to the flow of magick.

Pulling the small athame from my pocket (at least Chris had been willing to sell me that, although he'd refused to give me the bone-handled obsidian one I'd wanted, and instead given me one made of wood) I held it aloft and called the magick down.

Tracing a clockwise circle in the air above the bowl, I chanted the little rhyme I'd composed to carry the spell:

Truth like a river

Breaks your lips' seal;

Speak your true feelings:

Your secrets, reveal.

The book had given an example, but it said it would be more effective to make up an original verse, so I had.

I did this three times, and then ended the spell with 'so mote it be.'

Then, I poured the batter into the cupcake tin, popped them in the oven, and made myself some toast—after first making sure the toaster was free of silverware, of course. Pete hadn't played any tricks since he'd temporarily killed me, but it had become my habit to check.

A little less than twenty minutes later, I pulled the cupcakes from the oven and let them cool while I whipped up a batch of light-yellow buttercream icing.

Finally, the cupcakes iced and decorated (I'd drawn a heart on Ben's, but the rest had dog prints on them), I walked down the hall to Ben's office, cupcake in hand.

With each step I felt more like the evil queen in Snow White, offering my innocent Ben an enchanted treat, and I wondered if this really counted as misusing magick, and if I'd grow a bunch of warts or something as a result.

At the door, I hesitated, giving myself one last chance to chicken out, but then I took a breath and shook my head, half-laughing at myself.

It was silly, anyway.

I was no witch—not really. Not like Annabel or Ari, or even Chris. I was just playing, giving myself a little boost to ask Ben the questions I needed to— a little something to believe in. That was all.

I tapped on the door and then pushed it open.

Ben was at his desk, concentrating on the latest manuscript he'd been sent. He was an editor for a publishing company, and he took his work Very Seriously—just as I did mine. I tried not to interrupt him, but he was usually gracious when I did.

"Hey, cupcake," he winked. "What a good-lookin' snack you are."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help laughing as I held out the treacherous treat, my stomach in knots.

He accepted it carefully, and admired the swirl of smooth buttercream icing on the top.

"Bon appétit," he said, and took a huge bite.

His eyes went wide. I'd adapted the recipe from one for lemon cake, which was his favorite.

"Mmph! This is sooo good!" he exclaimed, scarfing down the rest of it in record time. "Oh my God, Matt—these will sell out in seconds!"

"You think so?" I asked, wondering how long the spell would take before it had an effect.

"Absolutely. Wow." He licked the last of the icing from his fingers. "Babe, you're gonna be famous someday."

I bit my lip. "Ben...What do you really think?" I asked.

He turned back, looking at me over his shoulder with a little frown. "I think you're wonderful, Matt. Why? What's this about?"

"I mean...are you happy here, in this house, with me."

Ben's face scrunched with a mix of confusion and surprise. "Huh. That's weird. My dad asked me the same thing," he said, and I felt a little spark of nerves shoot along the lines of my heart.

He got up from his office chair and stood in front of me, very close, making me look up the two inches his brown eyes had over mine. Smoothing his hands over my shoulders and down my arms, he grasped my fingers and raised them to his lips.

"I'll tell you what I told him," he said. "I love it here, and I love our life together, and I love you."

"You didn't say that," I scoffed.

"Well, not in those words, but basically," he replied, frowning. "Baby, what is this about? You've been acting weird for days now. If there's something you want to talk about, let's talk, okay?"

My eyes began to sting, and my walls to crumble—brittle as stale bread.

My 'spell' was supposed to make him spill his guts, bare his soul, reveal his truth; instead, I'm the one about to break.

"I—"

His desk phone rang (we'd installed a landline with Ari's permission), and Ben turned away with a different sort of frown.

"Shit. That's my client. Sorry, Mattkins, I gotta take this. Talk later, k?"

He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and dropped back into his chair, answering his phone with his Official Business Voice, and I knew I'd been dismissed.

I left, closing his office door carefully as I went.

Clearly, the spell had not worked.

Rather than disappointment, though, I felt relief. It hadn't felt right from the beginning, I realized, and I was glad my silly experiment had failed.

Oh well. It's not like my magick was real magick, after all.