What was a kitchen witch to do with a crowd of hungry werewolves in his bakery?  Use a dash of magic, of course.  

Wylan sprinkled embers of shimmery gold into the batter he mixed before pouring it straight into his pan. Pancakes were fun to make because they were pretty simple and everyone loved the classics for breakfast.  Each one was infused with a sprinkle of nostalgia and joy for his hungry customers waiting outside. 

Dragon Dough’s Bakery oven operated solely on magic channeled by him, and despite how draining it was, Wylan dialed it up just a notch to get things to bake a bit quicker.  He’d learned his lesson long ago not to get too impatient, not unless he wanted a repeat of his exploded pumpkin pie during Harvest Eve last year.  Wylan cringed at the memories of pumpkin filling everywhere.  

Warm fall sunlight streamed through the paned windows of the kitchen and lit up the azure walls painted with dragons flying around giant cupcakes.  The delightful artwork was created by his sweet mother, who had always encouraged him to chase after his dreams. Gods rest her creative soul. 

“Are those chocolate chip pancakes and peanut butter fudge cupcakes done yet?” Aurelia poked her head inside the kitchen, and her long golden vanilla ponytail swished behind her as she stepped inside.  She glanced back and whispered in a much lower, urgent voice, “The werewolves are getting hangry out there, if you know what I mean.”

“They’ve already gone through two dozen cupcakes!” Bastlan yanked out another trayful of piping hot cupcakes and set them out to cool.  Somehow, the morning rush made his already tousled red hair stick out at the sides even more, and his long pointed ears protruded further.  

Wylan pushed his employees to the limit and drained himself with magic, but he couldn’t risk angering the werewolves. They were far more dangerous than any food critics.  Wylan could easily handle a heated review in the Morning Meadows Tribune,  but if he ruffled the wrong fur of the werewolves, they would sick the mafia on them.  That was the last thing Wylan needed for his blooming business.

“I heard rumors they have two stomachs so they can digest their enemies,” Aurelia whispered conspiratorially.  

“More like four,” Bastlan groaned.

“Tell them we’ll have their peanut butter fudge cupcakes and pancakes out soon.  Promise another round of refreshments on the house, okay?” While it wasn’t in Wylan’s nature to just hand out free drinks to customers, he also couldn’t afford a target from the werewolf mafia, nor would he dare put any of his employees in such danger.  The only reason he had Aurelia on waiting duties was because she was a trained battle witch, but even so, he’d rather things remain peaceful and not result in bloodshed or fur flying.

Wylan had poured his heart and soul into Dragon’s Dough, and shadows damn him if he’d let a bunch of harried werewolves take him down.  They were just customers.  Ones with very sharp canines and a deadly rapport for making their enemies bones into chew toys. Nothing to fret about.  His hands weren’t shaking in the slightest, nor was his heart about to burst from his chest before the werewolves could even claw it out.

The morning rushed by in a blur as they fed the hungry werewolves, and much to Wylan’s relief, they finally got full. However, that had not stopped them from ordering some sweets to take home. He’d need to stock up on extra ingredients, but one perk of serving them was the dough they received.  It was triple the amount they had normally made in a day.

Four muscle-bound men were perched in one of his booths.  It was a tight squeeze to fit their formidable builds around a single table, but they somehow made it work. They all wore leather jackets with an insignia of a wolf howling atop of a crescent moon, the mafia’s trademark. Many of them also had tattoos inked onto their hairy arms with unfamiliar symbols and creepy spiders that made Wylan’s skin crawl.  

At least they had the decency to pile their dishes up at the edge of the table.  One of the werewolves snapped his head in his direction, slanted yellow eyes glowing with what he could only describe as hunger.  

Wylan remained safely behind the register and offered him a nervous half-smile before wiping down the counter. Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him. Wylan chanted like a mantra in head as he scrubbed like his life depended on it. Catching the attention of any of those hairy beasts would be a nightmare. 

He just needed to keep himself busy until they left.  Since they’d already paid their bill, there was nothing else to worry about and they were just chatting about things Wylan wanted no part of.  Like murdering their enemies for dinner later in the evening. 

Perspiration dripped down his forehead and flour clung to him like a second skin.  Magical energy pulsed around him like a second heartbeat, thrumming in his overwrought mind, when the front door swung open to let in a blissful gust of fall air.  The werewolves turned their heads simultaneously and snarled at the newcomer, who paid no attention to the dangerous beasts that looked ready to pounce.  

Dark hair spilled across the man’s shoulders like a waterfall of midnight, and his pointed ears had tiny golden studs.  His porcelain skin resembled moonlight and those chiseled facial features had Wylan swooning, if not for the growling werewolves that also had him trembling behind the counter. However, most prominent were his crimson eyes and that very wicked grin, flashing Wylan such sharp fangs as he twirled his closed umbrella at his side. An odd thing to see, considering it wasn’t raining. 

The vampire leaned against the counter with his mesmerizing eyes fixed on the menu behind him.  He had not expected such a delightful scent of allspice with a hint of cinnamon to waft from the vampire, as many rumored they all reeked of rot. Not to be rude, but it was far more pleasant compared to the foul, sweaty leather-bound werewolves still glaring murderous daggers their way.  

“I’ll have two of your raspberry glazed donuts.” He pointed to the sweets in the display case.  

“Sure thing.  Those are my favorite, actually.” Wylan opened the case to collect the sweets for him.  “Will that be for here or to go?”

“I better take them to go.” The vampire cut a glare behind them, his pointed ears twitching as he frowned.  “Don’t wish to cause you any trouble.”

Perhaps Wylan was still cooling down from all his zealous baking, but he wasn’t about to let those hairy mutts scare off any other customers.  He had opened his bakery for everyone and wanted to give them a safe space to dine in and enjoy some sweets.  

“If you’d rather dine in, you could sit in the very back and I could even close the blinds,” Wylan offered, knowing how sensitive vampires’ skin was to sunlight.  He was honestly surprised to see him out in broad daylight, as many of his kind tended to wait until the sun went down to venture outside.  But that encouraged him even more to make his experience as comfortable as possible. 

The vampire twirled his black umbrella with a grin.  “Only if you insist.”

Much to the werewolves dismay, Wylan served the vampire in the back corner and shuttered the blinds down so the sunlight wouldn’t bother him.  He fetched a carafe of coffee, serving it black just as he desired.  All the while, he tried his best to ignore the burning glares of the werewolves behind him and prayed to the Gods above that they wouldn’t do anything reckless.

Werewolves and vampires had crossed swords with each other for centuries, but Wylan hoped they could at least tolerate each other within the same building for a few minutes.  Wylan was pouring the vampire his coffee when the group of werewolves finally rose from their table.  Nerves churned in the pit of Wylan’s stomach as he cautioned a glance back, but relief fluttered through him when he watched three pile out the front door.  Unfortunately, one stayed behind.

Wylan nearly walked into the mountain of muscle that stepped in front of him, the mammoth of a man catching his wrist before he shattered his carafe across the floor.  The werewolf released him immediately when Wylan sensed the presence of another behind him, and one glimpse into his periphery caught sight of those brilliant red eyes.  

“Word of advice? Be careful who you trust, Wylan.” The werewolf flicked his nametag with a sharp claw.  “Bloodsuckers will drain you dry before you’re even aware their fangs are in you.”  

Dread sunk in Wylan’s chest as he struggled to even form a proper response, but it was like someone had stuffed a spoonful of gooey marshmallow creme in his mouth. He remained as still as a statue. The werewolf backed away, but not before baring his yellow-ish teeth that could tear through flesh just as easily as cupcakes or fudge.  

“Are you all right?” A gentle hand touched his shoulder.

“Yeah, of course.” Wylan regained his bearings, despite how chills still raked his body.  “I’m sorry about that.  Please, enjoy and let me know if you need anything else.”

Before the vampire could respond, Wylan unrooted his jelly legs from the floor and bolted back into the kitchen before he suffered a heart attack in the middle of his bakery.  What in the six hells was that werewolf’s problem?  He’d snarled in his face, enough for him to smell his rancid breath, and he couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d use those sharp teeth to gobble him up for dinner.

Wylan adjusted his name tag, taking deep breaths as he forced pleasant thoughts through his mind.  Near the oven, Bastlan cast a worrisome look his way but Wylan dismissed it with a small wave and a tight-lipped smile.  Everything was okay.  It was a one time thing, and those werewolves would hopefully not return anytime soon.  

Yet it wasn’t only the werewolves that had him on edge anymore.  That vampire had seemed like a kind gentleman, but why had that werewolf intervened to warn him in the most frightening manner possible?  

Maybe it had been a small gesture of kindness for the baked goods to warn him about a potential vampire serial killer who drained his victims dry. 

Whatever the case may be, Wylan would be extra careful in the coming days.  If nothing sunk their sharp teeth into him before then.