Cupcakes, Trinkets, and Other Deadly Magic (Dowser Series) by Meghan Ciana Doidge Read Free Book Online Page A

tonight, especially the wolves. I can see how your magic could be intoxicating.”
    “What do you mean ‘especially the wolves?’ What other shifters are there?” I deliberately ignored the intoxicating comment. He didn’t need any more reasons to think that drinking my blood might be a treat.
    “I’d be careful. They aren’t the cute playthings they seem to be, especially when they’ve lost one of their own.”
    “What do you mean by ‘especially the wolves?’ ” I repeated. “And ‘one of their own?’ Did someone kill a werewolf here in Vancouver?”
    The vampire didn’t answer. We continued to walk across the bridge side by side. I tried to keep my pace steady, though every few moments my steps unconsciously quickened and I had to slow.
    We were approaching the crest of the bridge, almost halfway across. A cement outcrop stood there, rising off one of the central concrete pillars thrust up from the water below.
    The vampire suddenly dangled the burned trinket he’d showed me earlier in front of my face. I nearly walked right into it, but then the magic hit me straight in the gut. It rolled over me, dark and terrible, like ashes in my mouth. I faltered. I twisted away from the cursed thing in his hand. The vampire followed me. The stink of magic coated my nose and forced its way down my throat. My stomach protested.
    I held up my hands, backed away, and hit the concrete side of the bridge, hurting my hip and back. I was getting frantic. I thought the night had already featured a number of terrifying moments, but this … I wanted to flee and hide.
    I twisted away again, retching the contents of my stomach onto the sidewalk. What an awful waste of an expensive meal.
    I retched again but my stomach was empty.
    The dreadful magic disappeared. The vampire reached for me, perhaps to steady me — I could feel rather than see him — but I fought his hands. I probably would have been less bruised if I hadn’t tried to knock him away. It was like hitting granite — and I know, I’ve taken a header in my kitchen before.
    A car slowed on the bridge, honking. It probably looked like the vampire was assaulting me. I looked up — I was still hunched over, waiting to see if I was going to heave some more — and caught the concerned eyes of a carload of twenty-somethings.
    “Wave them off,” the vampire murmured. Yes, wave off the fragile, blood-filled humans.
    I flapped my hands and attempted to straighten. “Thanks, guys,” I called. “Just too much to drink, I think.”
    The driver nodded, though his companions looked a little unconvinced. The car slowly pulled away.
    I took a few hesitant steps. A show of independent movement for their rear view mirror. Plus, I wasn’t interested in continuing to stare at my own puke.
    I wiped my hand across my face, and my stomach spasmed at the remembrance of the sickly magic that had emanated from the burned trinket. “What the hell was that?” I said. I tried to snap, but my protest sounded a lot more like a pitiful moan.
    “Black magic,” the vampire answered easily enough. He certainly was chatty now that I was practically incapacitated and trapped.
    “The trinket was used to kill someone? That can’t be … can it?”
    The vampire shrugged. “I’m not a black witch.”
    “Well, neither am I.”
    “I can see that. Your reaction was rather extreme. Unexpectedly.”
    “Is that an apology?”
    The vampire fixed his icy eyes on me and didn’t answer further. It seemed he only stayed in human mode for short periods.
    “I’m not some interesting bug!” I spat.
    “I’m not the collector here,” he answered. He meant the trinkets. It was true that I was a collector — the proverbial magpie — but somehow that smug observation pissed me off further.
    As I tried to soothe my rage, I realized how surreal it was to be standing in the middle of a four-lane bridge in the early morning — in the slight breeze, underneath starlight — having just