Vanilla Bean Vampire: Pie-Jinks, #1

Vanilla Bean Vampire

Pie-Jinks Book 1

Selina J. Eckert

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental, except in the case of real locations used as setting. Those exist.

Copyright © 2021 by Selina J. Eckert

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: papercraneswriting@gmail.com.

First e-book edition August 2021

Book design by DragonPen Designs

Cover Image: Deposit Photos

ISBN 978-1-954466-12-8

selinajeckert.com

For the love of my life,

Who encouraged me to embrace the silliness

That he loves about us.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Chapter One

THE BLUEBERRY PIE exploded the second my knife touched the perfectly golden crust, splattering oven-warm violet goo everywhere. And I do mean everywhere .

Oak! Cardamom! I yelled. Seriously?

All I got in response was giggling, echoing from somewhere in the direction of the living room. They might have been assigned to be my bakery helpers by Prince Forrest of the Autumn Court, but their agreement didn’t say they couldn’t play any tricks on me.

Looking back now, that was a huge oversight. I’d have to have words with that man. That gorgeous, delicious, swoonworthy man.

I sighed, pulling my thick blush-pink glasses—now stained purple, just like my face—off of my nose. I reached for a dish rag by the sink, feeling more than seeing it through the violet haze of my poor vision and sticky face, and wiped the gunk from my lenses. It mostly just smeared the gooey, syrupy ooze around.

I told you he was no good at this, said Thea, my live-in hob. She was shorter than my knee, but she managed to keep the house clean and the books balanced better than I did, as per our agreement.

But right now, she was wiping purple goo from her own face and eyeing the streaks on my cabinets forlornly.

It was just an oversight, I said. I’ll fix it.

And the mess? She pointed a gray finger around the kitchen.

Our little sprite friends were responsible, so they can clean it up.

Thea nodded once, firmly. Good. I was about to go to bed. I work all night, you know.

I sighed again. Yes, I know.

"And I do not want that on tonight’s chore list."

Of course.

But the reminder that it was Thea’s bedtime also reminded me of her gingerbread house apartment in the corner of my bedroom, the other part of our agreement. And the cracking royal icing trim I kept forgetting to fix. Royal icing coated my bedroom floor like the world’s stickiest dust. I had really hoped it would last longer after the sprites smashed it the first time, but they kept going back for more. Every day, one more bite from Thea’s house.

If they weren’t so darn cute, and sometimes helpful, I’d send them right back to Forrest.

Thea hopped down from her barstool at the peninsula, and I handed her the hob-sized pie I’d made for her that morning—now coated in a layer of blueberry filling. Then she shuffled from the room and up the stairs, pie in hand.

I turned to the sticky goo dripping slowly down the cabinets. Oak! Cardamom! Front and center!

The scent of allspice wafted around me, and then the two sprites stood on the other side of the peninsula, hiding their smiles and giggles behind their hands. Just like each time they visited, they wore matching outfits of hunter-green overalls—pants for Oak, but a skirt for Cardamom—and acorn-like beanies. Cardamom’s double braids swung in the wind, but Oak’s shorter, matching copper hair barely moved under his hat. Both sprites had a smattering of freckles across their cheeks, adding to the innocent, child-like appearance, but I knew better.

They’d nearly turned my entire house into candy just last week. I was still finding crumbs. And ants.

Yes, Reese, Cardamom said, her cheeks flushed red.

I pointed at the blueberry rivulets. This is your job.

Oak whined. But Reeese! We’re just having a bit of fun!

I crossed my arms. He was being adorably cute, and I knew under that layer of hard-baked mischief he really did care.

But it was like Thea had said: if I let them get away with this or didn’t enforce the consequences, I’d never have the end of it. Today it was an exploding pie, but what would tomorrow bring? What could possibly be worse than a candy house?

I rearranged my face into stern lines, hoping the magical streaks of color in my hair—the ones that gave away my mood like the world’s most annoying mood ring—didn’t betray me, and crossed my arms over my chest. You made this mess. You will clean it up.

And if we don’t? Cardamom giggled again.

If they didn’t? Darn. I didn’t think that far. But there was one thing that might convince them to do as they’re told.

It absolutely was not tattling to Forrest. They really couldn’t care less if they caused their prince some trouble, or so it seemed on the surface, at least. And I couldn’t go whining to him yet anyway. We’d only just met last week, at least officially, and we hadn’t even been on our first real date. He’d only assigned the sprites as my helpers after they nearly tanked my business with their troublemaking.

He was going to owe me the world’s biggest cup of coffee whenever we got that first date.

I chewed my lip. I had no other choice really. There was only one thing they cared about right now, and it wasn’t Forrest or pie.

I took a deep breath. Then no games tonight.

The smiles evaporated from their faces faster than water in a hot pan. Whaaat? they shrieked in unison. Not fair!

I swallowed. I didn’t really want to take game night away, but I couldn’t let them know that. Truthfully, I was enjoying their company as much as they were enjoying mine. Totally fair, and you know it.

They glanced at each other, chattering in their rapid, unintelligible Fae language, then turned back to me. They blinked big chocolate brown eyes at me (at least, they were chocolate brown today), then bounded around the peninsula and climbed onto the counters.

I sighed and dropped myself into a bar stool. I pulled off my glasses again when Oak tossed me a wet rag and finished cleaning the sticky residue from my lenses as they ran the sink and scrubbed down the cabinets, the counter, the floor. Everything.

Well, except me. I’d have to shower and do laundry tonight. Even when they cleaned up after themselves I still had extra work.

My phone buzzed in my back pocket, and I jumped before reaching for it and checking the screen.

Mom. Of course she’d call now. She had the worst timing.

I tapped the screen and raised the phone to my ear. Hey, Mom. What’s up?

Hey, sweetheart! my mom’s voice came through the speaker. You never called about your date!

I rubbed my forehead, then pulled away my sticky hand, coated in blueberry goop. Again. That’s because I didn’t have it yet.

Well, what’s that boy waiting for? We met him at the ball. And you met his parents. What’s the holdup?

Right, the ball. The whole reason the sprites had turned my house to candy in the first place. And the event Forrest held to try to assuage the anger of Cider Hollow’s citizens after he made the mistake of purchasing the lot of forest behind my house with charmed acorns.

I shrugged, even though she couldn’t see it. I don’t know. I have a business to run, and he’s trying to establish a new Court. Those are some pretty time-consuming tasks.

That’s no excuse for love!

I resisted the impulse to rub at my face again. This was just too much. I needed to divert her, before she started bringing up Magical Connections again. I may be a pie witch, but the magical beings on that site were downright weird. Maple had started keeping a journal of all the bad conversations and dates I’d had since I broke up with my ex.

What’s new on your end? I blurted, hoping to take her attention away from my relationships. Ever since my sister had that baby... Okay, never mind. That kid was cute. But I still didn’t want my mom messing with my love life!

I heard a sigh from the other end. Oh, your father bought himself a new toy again.

I glanced up at the sprites. They’d made pretty impressive progress; I could almost see the cabinets’ paint again. A new toy?

It’s a beer brewing kit, she said, exasperation in her voice. He thinks I can make magical booze. He wants me to brew him up a giddiness potion.

I snorted. That does sound like him.

Also, that beer sounded pretty good. I was usually a rosé girl, but I also liked a good porter now and then.

Tell Dad I’ll be first to try it.

You want me to go along with this? The incredulity in her voice was comical, and I had to suppress a laugh.

Yes! What harm could it do? And it’s not like he could make those potions himself.

The magic in our family was mostly restricted to the women—other than a cousin I’d never met somewhere on the other side of the country—so the men in our lives had a habit of asking for spells and potions. We had a long, rich history of witches, and it was one both Mom and I were proud of.

I don’t want vats of beer around my house! Mom continued.

Hasn’t he put up with your crazy church lady book club every week for... years?

The silence on the other end of the line answered my question. He really had put up with a lot, considering some of those church ladies. They came in every Tuesday, like clockwork, made my parents’ house a circus, then left mountains of debris in their wake.

Fine, Mom finally conceded. I guess you’re right.

She paused again, and I opened my mouth to say goodbye. The blueberry was definitely going to stain these jeans.

But before I could get the I have to go out, she said, It’s the strangest thing, book club.

I blinked. What?

Well, for the last month, every week we’ve been missing a different person.

"That’s normal, Ma. Not everyone can attend every week of anything."

No, no, no, she muttered. Not like that. They came back the next week, but... None of them remembered missing the week before.

Huh, I said, watching Cardamom shut off the faucet. That is weird. Have they seen a doctor?

I could almost hear the eye roll. If you’re trying to say we’re getting old, you can just put that away. I taught you to respect your elders.

I couldn’t resist. She’d set me up too perfectly. I thought you didn’t want me to point out your age, Elder Ma’am?

Oh! She let loose a string of rambling, irritated sounds before coming back to the conversation. The snark in you! I have to go now. But I better get updates about that date!

Almost home-free. You got it, Mom. I have some cleaning to do right now anyway. I plucked at my apron with two fingers. Talk to you later.

I mean it, Reese! she said instead of goodbye. I want details!

The line went dead, and I burst out laughing. She was just too much fun to mess with sometimes.

WE DID WHAT YOU ASKED! Cardamom exclaimed. Now we get games!

Yes, games! Oak jumped in place.

I twisted my damp hair up into a messy bun. I’d finally gotten to shower and put my clothes in the washing machine. And my hair, for once, was only blonde. No stray colors to give me away. Though, as I watched, streaks of powder blue, the color of serenity, began stretching through the few strands that had escaped the bun.

Were those little brats really making me feel at peace? After all they’d done to mess with me the last couple weeks?

I supposed I could live with that.

Well, go pick what you want, I said, twisting my hair tie one more time.

I smiled as the sprites scurried off into the living room, and I followed more slowly. They could go back to Forrest’s Court whenever they wanted, yet they usually just wanted to hang out at Pie-Jinks, my cottage. And my business. But it was after hours, which made it simply my cottage.

Those sprites were quite a handful, though. This was supposed to be our first weekly (maybe more than weekly) game night, something to occupy them and let them spend time with me. My desperate bid to get them to behave. Get rid of the idle hands and whatnot.

Even Thea seemed interested. As I settled on the couch, watching the sprites set out the board and pieces to some candy-themed game I found at a yard sale (those sprites loved sugar), Thea wandered in, carrying a bowl of popcorn as big as she was. She set it on the table, then settled next to me.

What’s the game? she said, eyes on the board.

Candy World, Oak said.

She nodded, then pointed at one of the pieces. I want that color.

They set her piece on the starting block, and we settled in for the game.

My phone buzzed where it sat on the coffee table, and a text from Maple, my half-Fae best friend, filled the screen.

Were you going to tell me we were having game night????

The number of crying-face emojis after her message was criminal. But I really should have invited her.

I tapped out a response. Come over.

But before I could even set the phone down again, the doorbell rang. I froze for a second, surprised, then stood and hurried for the hall amid complaints from the sprites and Thea’s shushes.

Thank goodness for that hob.

I swung the door open to Maple’s grinning face, her hair bright pink in the porch light. Were you just waiting here for an invitation? I stepped aside, letting her into the house. And how did you even know about this? It’s just us and the sprites.

She tapped her pointed ears. I may only be half-Fae, but I know things.

I shut the door and narrowed my eyes at her. Her smile didn’t waver, but she wasn’t being completely truthful. Even a half-Fae couldn’t lie, but saying she knew things wasn’t a lie... simply a misdirection.

They told you, I said, smiling back.

Maple nodded enthusiastically. I think they like me.

They like everyone.

She pouted at me. I don’t think that’s true.

I laughed. Fine, come on. The game is just starting now.

Right! She took a step toward the living room, then froze, foot in the air. She lifted her face, sniffing the air. "Did you make cinnamon rolls?"

Sometimes I thought Maple was only my friend for the sugary benefits. Of course, that was always a benefit of having a pie witch best friend: a constant supply of baked goods.

I didn’t get a chance to answer. She was already in the kitchen, clattering to get herself a plate and filling the kettle. I left her to her snacking and returned to the living room just in time for my turn.

Okay, what do I do? I said, settling back into my seat next to Thea.

The sprites hopped up and down on the other side of the coffee table. Roll the dice and move your piece!

I did as they instructed, tapping my piece on each space as I counted.

So when is your date? Maple called from the kitchen.

I rolled my eyes, and Thea laughed. Did everyone want their nose in my business?

Tomorrow, I called back. At Witch’s Brew.

Maple appeared in the doorway, a copper and wood tray balanced in her hands. The scents of cinnamon and chocolate wafted toward me, and she set the tray on the table and began passing out mugs of hot chocolate to everyone. What are you wearing?

I flicked my eyes up at her before taking a card from the stack. Lose a turn. Fantastic. Does it matter?

She froze, hand still on the mug she’d set in front of me. Are you kidding, Reese? She blinked at me, her violet eyes locked on mine. First dates are important! They set the tone for the entire relationship!

No, they don’t, I protested. "First dates are the least likely to set the tone. Everyone is nervous and acts stupid and awkward."

All the more reason you need to dress to kill!

I shrugged. I’ll find something. It’s not like we’ve never met.

Maple shifted her intense gaze to Thea. Can you believe her?

Thea chuckled. She actually chuckled. But she didn’t say anything, instead reaching for the dice.

Maple rolled her eyes and settled into the chair in the corner. Fine. If you don’t want to talk about your date, then how about the bakery? Any new business after the Harvest Ball?

I shook my head slowly, butterflies flitting around my stomach. No, business hadn’t picked up, which might be a bad thing. Last week I’d managed to eke out a win in a baking contest for the Harvest Festival with a delicious—if slightly absurd—rendition of a pumpkin spice blueberry pie. As my prize, I’d been hired to cater the desserts at the Autumn Court’s Harvest Ball last weekend. The same ball where my parents had met Forrest.

I had hoped that the win would bring in more business for Pie-Jinks. I had only opened my little shop at the end of the summer, and despite that win and my few regular customers, I was no closer to a stable business. I was still working out of my kitchen and on the edge of having to sell it all and