Mavobella: The Angel Of Death

Chapter 13

Melissa had risen early enough to supervise the morning cleanup, beating both Nicole and I to Caketopia. By the time we arrived, the place was buzzing with activity, and the sweet smell of frosting mixed with the dust being swept away.

Newspapers on the other hand had been swapped. Melissa sure did take her job seriously, unlike you know who.

With most of the workers gathered, we kicked off Caketopia for the day.

I was supposed to be on the baking deck, working my magic with sugar and flour, but Nicole had other plans. She asked me to be on serving duty alongside Melissa. I wasn’t thrilled. Yesterday’s cakes hadn’t exactly sold out. In fact, they had barely sold at all, thanks to a certain zombie wandering the streets and scaring away customers.

Even now, the streets weren’t exactly bustling, though it was an improvement over the ghost town from yesterday. People were at least venturing out—reluctantly, but still.

Serving cakes became my new drill: walk to the customer, take their order, write it down, hand it to the guy behind the counter, and bring the cake back. Repeat. Not exactly the thrill of battle, but hey, a cake war could get messy too, right?

It wasn’t even noon, and I was already tired of the routine. That’s when trouble showed up. Right on schedule.

The mysterious stalker was back.

They stood across the street like they owned the shadows, cloaked in darkness. And I’m not talking about just any cloak. No, this was the Cloak of Unsettling Doom, a fabric so black it seemed to eat light. It billowed behind the figure like the wings of a demon bat—except without the charm of a bat. Or wings. Or anything remotely charming.

The head was hidden beneath a hood so deep and dark, you could store your worst nightmares in there and still have room for regrets. A Hood of Infinite Creepy. It was like Robin Hood, except minus the bows, arrows, and any intention to redistribute wealth. Just menace.

They wanted me to see them—no doubt about it. And I wasn’t having it. Not today, not with cake orders piling up and customers looking like they were more afraid of a soggy sponge cake than the undead.

I kicked the door open, nearly knocking it off its hinges (Melissa would complain about that later), and stormed into the street. There they were, standing still, watching me, daring me to follow.

Without thinking, I crossed the road—without looking, because who needs survival instincts when you’ve got curiosity? A horse-drawn cart nearly sent me flying.

“Stop!” I shouted, my voice sounding about as intimidating as a kitten’s sneeze. “Wait!”

Did they stop? Of course not. They didn’t even flinch. Their Cloak of Malevolent Breeze fluttered as they turned and glided—not walked, glided—toward an alley. Because of course, all creepy people love alleys. It’s like they’re drawn to them, like moths to a flame, except the flame is despair and the moth is… well, this freak in a cloak.

I followed, my boots slamming against the cobblestones as I tried to catch up. The alleyway narrowed, shadows closing in as if the buildings themselves wanted to trap me. But I couldn’t stop. Not now. This cloaked figure had answers—maybe not answers to life, the universe, and everything, but definitely something about stalking me. And I was getting tired of it.

They darted between buildings, slipping into side streets like a fish in water. I could barely keep up, my heart racing and my lungs burning. If I could still use my wings, I’d be flying by now, ambushing them from the skies like some divine justice. But alas, demon energy wasn’t exactly falling from the heavens these days. And I only consumed too much of it using my abilities.