Just Desserts

Cooks of The Crypt

A woman calls out from the front end, "Bones?" The voice carries, echoing throughout the kitchen as Mr. Bones looks up from the stovetop. She sounds upset.
"That's me," he says. "What can I do for you, love?"
Rian steps through the kitchen door, wrangling a young boy. She sets a plate with three slices of cake on the counter and clears her throat. "I caught this one in the display case trying to make off with three slices of chocolate cake." The boy smiles and laughs as Rian raises a brow. "You wouldn't know anything about it, would you?"
Mr. Bones leans forward, and scoffs, his tone playful yet stern as he speaks to the boy. "Master Brandon, how could you?"
"Bones, please," Rian says as bones and the boy let out a fit of laughter. "Pull yourself together."
"I can't, miss. My arm is currently busy." He points to the other side of the kitchen. His boney hand grips a ladle that stirs a pot of chili. His arm, detached and without skin or tissue, anchors itself to the table for leverage.
Rian's lips tighten and she places her hands on her hips. An imposing woman, her green eyes stare out from beneath a mane of black hair. Such a star would make one's skin crawl. Mr. Bones wouldn't know, however. He doesn't have any.
"What?" He asks.
"I know you're involved," Rian replies with a sly smile.
"Why, I would nev-"
Rian laughs. "Three slices, bones. I have two children and Silas is abroad. The staff wouldn't be so bold."
"Ah…" Mr. Bones hangs his head in shame. "I see. I guess that's it then."
"What?" Rian replies.
Silas, the boy, speaks up with crocodile tears welling in his eyes. "Mr. Bones, no."
Mr. Bones throws his voice, crying out as if in deep sorrow, "Oh yes. I'm afraid it's back to that dreadful mausoleum for me. I've been found out."
"No," the boy cries.
Bones ignores her protests. "I've done it this time. Stealing from the family. Why, what will the other skellys think of me?"
Rian rolls her eyes. "Boys, please. Just leave the display alone. If you were to be seen…" her words fall on deaf ears. The two huddle together as if sharing the last hug they will ever have. Rian storms out of the kitchen with a laugh. "Oh, stop. Get back to it."
Mr. Bones looks up and sees the plate left behind on the counter. "Brandon…"
The boy looks up at him with a dry face and a wide grin. "What?"
Bones whispers in reply, gesturing with a nod. "Get your brother. She forgot the cake."

---

On a long winding road just outside of Houston, Texas is an unassuming restaurant with a dark past, its history steeped in rumors of black magic, occult rituals, and other forms of twisted, profane debauchery. The keys have sat in the dusty pockets of many, passed down from one patriarch to another, until finally, the family business rests firmly on the shoulders of one Madame Ersebet Kingsley… her real name is Rian Hardy, just so we're clear.
Just Desserts has a reputation, yes, but it's grossly exaggerated. What started as a bakery in 1966 grew into a tourist attraction. Folks from all over the US, and even the world come seeking what the locals call with a raised brow, "soul food." It didn't matter what they served. Somehow, it always makes you feel good, like coming home and sampling mom's cooking.
It hasn't been a bakery in twenty years. The menu is varied with flavors suiting any taste. The Hardy family is good at what they do, but they've always had a little help. They're special, one foot in hell and the other firmly planted outside. The dead turn in their graves just to get a taste, and the Hardy's are always willing to provide.

The Cook of the Crypt

It started with a man named Hubert Lloyd Hardy. Lloyd wanted to open a bakery and did with little to no trouble. As is so often the case, tragedy struck soon after. Martha Hardy, Lloyd's wife, perished in a car accident two weeks after opening day. The one driving the other car was one of us, someone in the know. The accident shouldn't have happened in the first place, but Martha had a secret.
Martha was a medium, bathed in Candlelight. She could sense Spirits and the like. She was still around, or at least that's what Lloyd told himself. He couldn't have known for sure. Come Halloween night, Martha visited him, and taught him her ways, along with their children.
This is when the bakery started getting it's darker aesthetic. It was Halloween all year for the Hardy's. They took it upon themselves to handle local hauntings and even traveled out of state if the money was good. The rest is history, as they say.

Ghastronomy

The secret to their talent comes from their cooking. They can prepare a dish catered to the ghost they hunt, be it a common phantom or the most violent of revenants. The dish is damn near mesmerizing, capturing the ghost's attention till it just has to have a taste. By the time the meal is done, the ghost will be gone for good.
The Hardy's talked to them, engaging the Spirits in conversation. They've solved murders and even absconded with more than a few inheritances meant for ungrateful beneficiaries.
As time passed, their business grew, as did their fame. Members of the family started adopting personas meant to add to the mystique of the restaurant, though it's really to protect themselves from spoiled heirs and irritated Spirits.

Now

The restaurant is still in its prime, with a diverse five-page menu and a staff of six outside of the family. The latest Hardy to take over is one Rian Hardy, and her fiance, Silas Pryor. They have two children together.
Their firstborn son of 11 is named Skylar Hardy. Their youngest son of 4 is named Brandon hardy. The two boys tend to keep out of sight in the small home built above the restaurant but are invaluable during their late-night feasts with the dead.
Also on the payroll is one Mr. Bones. We do not talk about Mr. Bones. All that needs to be said of Mr. Bones is that he is a fine, upstanding gentleman of supreme moral fiber and anyone who disagrees can go fly a kite.