by Nicole Marsh
A teenaged girl comes over to Leif and I. “How can I help you?” she asks, with a slight stammer.
I look to Leif and he gestures for me to go ahead. “Uhm, do you still have Cherry Garcia?” I ask. She wordlessly points to the tub of pink colored ice cream, dotted with red chunks, placed directly in front of us.
“Right, well I’ll take a scoop of that in a cone,” I order, my cheeks only slightly heated from embarrassment. I step towards the register while Leif orders, but when I make a move to pay his hand shoots in front of mine with a twenty-dollar bill in his grasp.
“This is for both of us,” he tells the kid behind the register.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I can pay for mine,” I respond, a five-dollar bill still clasped in my hand.
“I know I don’t ‘have to’, but it’s my pleasure. Thank you for showing me what Florence has to offer,” Leif says with a wink.
“Well, thank you,” I reply, blushing again.
After Leif collects his change from the cashier, we head outside. He makes a beeline to one of the bistro tables on the sidewalk. I trail behind, my eyes focused on my ice cream cone, trying to lick off the small drops that are beginning to melt down the sides towards my hand.
Before I can make it to the table, a whirlwind of silky, chestnut hair appears before me. Next thing I know, my ice cream cone is shoved into my face and I’m pushed to the ground. I’m barely able to throw my hands behind me in time to help catch myself.
On my butt with my legs sprawled out in front of me, my scraped hands behind me, and ice cream covering my face and shirt, I look up to see the perpetrator. Kaylee’s face hovers above me wearing a malicious expression. “Guess you better watch where you’re going, little Mir,” She taunts.
A wave of laughter follows her words, but it barely registers. My blood is boiling at her usage of Vlad’s nickname, but I don’t reply and stay seated on the ground. I know she’ll quickly tire of taunting me if I don’t fight back. I just need to sit and wait her out. Then once she leaves, I can scrape my dignity, and myself, off the ground.
“Where’s Vlad?” Kaylee taunts, “Did he get tired of slumming it already? We all knew that wouldn’t last. The Quarterback and the loser.”
Laughter from the side continues to punctuate her comments. I don’t bother to turn my head. I already know who her groupies are and am not worried about confirming my tormentors. I start to space out, waiting for Kaylee to get bored, when a flash of blonde hair catches my attention from the corner of my eye.
Leif strides into view and stands directly in front of me, offering a hand to help me off the ground. Without meeting his eyes, I gingerly lift a slightly injured palm from the sidewalk and place it into his hand. He lifts me to my feet with ease, then surprises me when he wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls my ice cream drenched body into his side. He turns us to face Kaylee.
Leif’s pleasant tone surprises me when he asks Kaylee, “And you are?”
Kaylee simpers under anyone’s attention, apparently including a guy holding a girl she just shoved to the ground. Either that or she recognizes Leif, despite him not introducing himself by name yet and is trying to show that she is both more interested and interesting than I am. “Kaylee Williams,” she says, fluttering her lashes.
“Well, Miss Kaylee Williams,” Leif continues in a polite tone, “I think you owe my friend, Mira Love, an apology.” I feel his eyes glance down at me, but I continue to look forward with a dead stare. “It appears you accidentally ruined her ice cream, her top, and… her palms.”
Kaylee guffaws instead of responding. I’m beginning to become wary that Leif is in on some type of prank against me or that he’s going to make things much worse for me with his antics.
The second after the thought crosses my mind, a flash of movement from Leif’s opposite side catches my eye. The initial throw is fast, like an MLB pitcher fast, but everything afterwards occurs in slow motion. I watch as an almost translucent liquid spouts from Leif’s hand in Kaylee’s direction. It hits her mid throat, splashing outwards to douse her shirt and a portion of her face, with a few droplets flying off to soak into the heated pavement.
Her laugh abruptly turns into a splutter and her hands immediately rise to grab her throat. At first, I think she’s just surprised, her hands raising up to confirm she has, in fact, been targeted by someone else when she’s used to being the bully. My smugness quickly turns to horror as she begins to gag, and choke. Her hands are frantically clutching her throat, scraping to try and allow air to reach her lungs.
I shove away from Leif with a look of horror. “Leif, what did you do?” I ask quietly, as Kaylee begins to sink to her knees on the pavement, still gagging and scratching.
“Just teaching her a little lesson, that’s all.” Leif says casually, as he watches Kaylee struggle, her lips beginning to turn blue from lack of oxygen.
“Stop it, right now,” I demand.
Leif doesn’t move, his entire body still with his gaze focused down on Kaylee.
“Right now, Leif. I mean it.” I demand again, louder.
He lets out a deep sigh and shoots me a look of exasperation. With his brown eyes locked on mine, I hear the snap his fingers. Immediately after, I hear Kaylee gulp in a large breath of air, then another. I’m unable to tear my eyes away from Leif’s, as if he has me hypnotized with his gaze.
The sound of Kaylee’s voice is what snaps me from the trance. “That was really fucked up. And against the rules of the coven,” she says. Her voice comes out as a rasp, but she still manages to sound livid. Small scrapes on her throat, caused by her nails clawing for her airway, have trickles of blood dripping down onto her top.
Leif sounds unconcerned by her accusations. “I’m not from your coven. Their rules don’t apply to me.” He inspects his fingernails like he can’t even be bothered to look at Kaylee while she stomps away, maintaining a glare in our direction.
I watch as she joins her gaggle of friends, who all seem frozen in place from shock. When no one moves she tugs on Greg’s arm, forcing him to wrap it around her then drags him off. She shoots one last glare over her shoulder and the rest of the crew slowly follows behind them, studiously avoiding looking in our direction.
After studiously ignoring their departure, Leif turns towards me. “Are you okay, Mira Love?” His tone is surprisingly gentle, considering he almost just murdered someone for shoving an ice cream cone in my face.
“I’m… fine,” I respond hesitantly. “I think I just want to go home; I need to clean up.” I gesture to my face and shirt which are coated with sticky, pink ice cream.
Leif nods. “I can drive. You seem a bit shaken up.”
A bit shaken up seems like kind of an understatement.
6
The Canadian
Mirabella
I emerge from my bathroom, toweling off my hair. It’s taking all of my focus to avoid replaying the scene with Kaylee at the parlor, over and over. I feel like I’m doing anything I can to keep my mind busy.
My phone rings from my bedside table and I approach it up warily, hoping the call isn’t from Leif. Thankfully, its Sylvia’s name flashing across the screen. “Hey,” I answer after accepting the call.
“Oh my god. Your texts were insane! I read them on my lunch break and then almost ditched half my day at school to come see you. Are you okay?” Sylvia asks in her normal barrage of words, her voice tinged with concern.
“I’m…” I take a deep breath to think of how to respond. I’m not sure how I am yet, I’ve been avoiding thinking about the over-the-top actions of Leif from this afternoon and our uncomfortable car ride back to my house. I’ve even avoided thoughts of Leif meeting my mom, then telling me he’d find his own way back to my grandma’s house, despite the innocence of those actions. I’ve pushed it all away to focus on showering.
“I’m not really sure,” I finally answer truthfully.
Sylvia hmms in response.
“I feel like
it was insane. As much as I’ve wished someone would put Kaylee in her place, for years, I still felt bad for her. I think if I hadn’t said anything…” I pause, unsure if I should voice the thought that’s been running through my brain, even to Sylvia. Bolstering my courage, I continue, “I think if I hadn’t demanded that he stop, Leif would have let her die.”
Sylvia gasps. “You don’t think that’s a bit dramatic? He was probably just trying to scare her.” I can tell she’s skeptical, trying to reason through the novel-length text of information I dumped on her after I got home.
“You weren’t there, Sylvia. She was scraping at her throat, kneeling on the ground with blue lips. Her posse was too afraid to even move.” I shudder, recalling the scene. “Then when she was able to talk again, she said that was against the coven rules or something, but Leif didn’t care.”
Sylvia hmms again. “Well yeah, our coven rules dictate that we’re not allowed to use our magic to harm another witch unless it’s in self-defense. Considering Leif isn’t from our coven… and who his father is, who he is even, I’m not surprised her veiled threat didn’t bother him.”
We both let the silence linger on the line as we think.
“Are you going to see him again?” She asks.
I mull it over. “I don’t think I have much of a choice. He traveled here from Canada to help me. Honestly, he seemed a little upset that I wasn’t more grateful for what he did to Kaylee. Like he thought he was defending my honor or something.”
“Well, he kind of was. Just be careful, in case he causes more trouble. You don’t want to be in the middle of a bunch of angry witches,” Sylvia advises, as if I hadn’t already thought that myself.
7
The Potion
Mirabella
The rest of the week, I keep my head down and my ears to the ground for any news regarding Vlad or any large, dark-furred wolf roaming the woods, for that matter. The days continue to pass without news and I stick to my routines. I go to work, eat dinner with my parents, then head upstairs to paint and listen to music.
Friday finally rolls around and I’ve made plans with Sylvia to hang out in my studio. At six o’clock on the dot, I hear a knock at the front as I’m puttering around the entryway waiting for Jacob to finish making me some snacks. Assuming its Sylvia, I open the door without checking the peephole.
Instead of being greeted by the swath of lime green hair I anticipated, I’m faced with a broad chest covered in a black t-shirt. Craning my neck back, I meet the gaze of a pair of muddy eyes. Ones I haven’t necessarily been avoiding, but also haven’t specifically sought out after the events of Monday.
“Mira Love,” Leif says, with a smirk forming on his lips at the end of the second word.
We stand there looking at each other for a beat before I simply say, “Leif Golden.”
His smirk grows larger, taking over his entire face. “I feel you’ve been avoiding me this week, while you were supposed to be helping me learn about the town before your potions lessons.” His tone suggests his chastisement is more of a joke than a serious matter. While waiting for my response, he leans against the doorjamb casually. Like he’s been here a hundred times and we’re comfortable old friends.
Meanwhile, I’m feeling awkward and unsettled for reasons I can’t explain. Part of me is trying to figure out a way to make Leif disappear before Sylvia gets here, to avoid any potential fangirl episodes. The other part of me is wishing she would show up sooner, to save me from the awkwardness of having to explain to Leif why I haven’t been in contact with him since the incident at the Parlor.
When the silence has become awkwardly long, with Leif’s smirk continuing to grow larger, I finally accept he’s not leaving without an explanation and Sylvia isn’t right around the corner waiting to save me.
“I’ve just been… a little busy,” I say, knowing it sounds like an excuse but unable to think of any other response. “Work has been pretty tough lately,” I tack on to the end.
Raising my gray eyes to his expectantly, I see his smirk has fallen and his expression has become more contemplative. His next words are unexpected. “I think I may need to talk to your boss about giving you a few weeks off to prepare for the exams. I’m sure your grandma and parents would agree obtaining your witching license is more important than writing newspaper articles. Once we brew our first potion together, I’ll be able to better gauge where we stand and how long it should take to prepare you. After you pass, you can go back to your regular work schedule at the Daily.” He says all this like I’m going to thank him and readily agree to his new plan for my life.
Maybe he’s used to getting his way, but I’m not going to bend to his will without a fight. “I don’t want to give up working at the Daily,” I respond firmly.
Leif’s eyes jump from the top of the door, to my face. “Mira Love,” he starts, in a tone like he’s speaking with a child, making my hackles rise. “I’m here to help you pass your witches exams, as quickly as possible, so you can find answers to help your friends. If that’s what you want, you may have to make a few sacrifices to achieve that goal, such as limiting your time at the Daily during your studies.”
The Daily feels like the only thing I have left that’s tying me to Vlad. “What if I cut back to only four days a week?” I propose as a compromise, even though I want to just slam the door on Leif and this conversation. I want to save the town, but I can do that without giving up the Daily. I think.
Leif’s face looks skeptical. “Your job made you too busy to spend any time with me this week. We could’ve been getting to know each other and starting potion brewing. I definitely don’t think you have enough time for both, but I’ll think on it before I go to your boss on Monday.”
I guess the consequences of avoiding Leif are losing my job at the Daily; I think to myself, trying not to let bitterness tinge the thoughts.
“Can I come in and we can start brewing something tonight?” Leif asks, straightening from his casual lean against the doorframe.
Before I can respond, I hear a loud huff of air and the sound of sneakers slapping across paved ground coming from outside the front door. Within seconds, a shock of green hair is visible behind Leif’s shoulder. He turns to the side, following the direction of my gaze and together we watch Sylvia, sprinting towards my front door from the bottom of the driveway. Her face is pink and her chest is heaving, with one small trickle of sweat running down from her forehead, as if she’d run a mile before heading over to my house.
She stops on the front stoop and bends in half, with her hands resting on her knees as tries to catch her breath. Leif and I watch on as she gulps in huge breaths of air, before straightening into a normal, upright standing position. “Ran. All. The. Way. Here.” She pants out, between breaths.
I forgo pointing out that she may need more cardio, if she’s this out of breath from running down the block. Normally I love to tease Sylvia, but I don’t want to embarrass her in front of her celebrity witch crush.
“Leif Golden, and you are…?” Leif states, holding his hand out for Sylvia to shake.
“Sylvia Amica, Mira’s best friend.” Sylvia says the words with gusto, like she’s proud to be my best friend, then shakes Leif’s hand heartily.
I smile at Sylvia, grateful she interrupted and hopeful she’ll be able to scare Leif off.
“As you can see,” I begin, pointing to Sylvia. “I already have plans for tonight and can’t brew potions with you.”
“Oh, are you here to brew potions?” Sylvia interjects, looking between Leif and I. “I could just tag along. We could do it here, in your parents' witching chamber downstairs.”
I try to shoot Sylvia a look—one that says “take that offer back right this second or I’ll never forgive you”—but she’s looking up at Leif, instead of down in my direction.
“Sounds like a great idea to me. Why don’t you ladies lead the way, eh?” Leif responds politely, his accent sounding heavier than usual, in Sylvia’s presence.
Stifling my groan, I turn around and head for the stairs resigned to Leif invading my Friday night plans with Sylvia. Before I climb the first step, Jacob appears in the hallway. “Are you ready for the snacks, Ms. Love?”
Leif smoothly steps forward and offers, “I can take them, sir.”
Jacob quirks a brow, then gives a quick nod. He scurries away towards the kitchen, Leif glances at me then trails behind him silently. I stay near the bottom step with Sylvia, resting against the railing while I wait for Leif to return. The wait is short, and he reappears with an entire tray laden with mostly junk food, and one small plate of veggies with and dip.
Leif holds the tray and Jacob didn’t return with him, but I still yell out, “Thank you, Jacob” Before turning to climb up the steps.
If you had told me two months ago that I would be in a circular stone cellar with my best friend and a quasi-underground celebrity, learning the correct way to add a “pinch” of something to a pewter cauldron, I would’ve called a mental institution to pick you up. There is no way I would’ve believed that was a true prediction for one of my future Friday nights, yet here we are.
“No, no. That’s way too much for a pinch, Mira Love.” Leif places his fingers over mine, using them to adjust my grip. “Yes, just like that. Okay, I’m going to step back and you can continue.”
Leif’s instructed me to brew a potion while he watched. He said he could gauge my skill level while I worked and use that information to create a lesson plan to help me pass the witches exams within a month. Instead of letting me brew, however, he has stepped in non-stop to correct me. An hour in and we’ve only gotten through three steps.
Sylvia has been no support. She’s seated in one of the navy armchairs near the fireplace, crunching through snacks and watching Leif and I like we’re her favorite soap opera.
