Of Potions and Portents

by Nyx Halliwell

  The bird flings himself across the expanse, wings flailing as he tries to fly. He almost makes it, talons and wings gripping wildly at the earth, before he falters and slips down the side of the cracked earth.

  I throw out my hand and a strong thread of magick, catching and flipping him onto the ground near my wolf.

  “Did you see that?” Hoax hops back and forth between his feet. “I did it! I flew! I flew!”

  He may drive me crazy, but being a good familiar, he always does his job and comes to my aid. As the demon tumbles into the pit, Hoax jumps on its face and claws its eyes out.

  The two tumble over and over, the demon shrieking as they fall. Hoax does too, but in joy. They disappear from sight, and everyone runs to the edge to look down in horror, fearing Hoax is gone for good.

  Once more, I reach out with magick and grab the silly bird, detangling him from the falling demon and giving him the ability to fly. He shoots up out of the divide, and as he does so, I reach deep into the earth and slam the sides of the lingering gap together, sealing it.

  Grayson, still by my side, sends up a loud howl. A cheer.

  The forest animals do the same in their own ways, the birds calling, other wolves howling. I hear the roar of a bear, the bawl of several moose. I see nothing of the fairy folk, but I hear their lilting laughter on the breeze as the air calms.

  Hoax flutters down next to Grayson and looks up at him. “Did you see what I did there? I just saved the bloody day.”

  Laughter echoes in my ears. Dad smiles serenely and begins to head into Conjure.

  As my sisters embrace me, I take a few moments to enjoy their love and fall into their arms. There will be time later to tell them everything. About Mom and her message. Our new quest to free her from the Master.

  When I turn to thank Grayson for his help, he’s gone.

  17

  I sleep like the dead after making sure everyone is okay. I leave Dad and my sisters to clean up the shop from the earthquake’s damage.

  Sometime after midnight, I wake and force myself out of bed, the full moon shining through my window onto the comforter. Hoax is in the nearby rocking chair, one wing covering his face. I didn’t have the heart to tell him he didn’t fly on his own, nor did he save the day, so he’s going to be even more conceited and hard to get along with, but that’s fine with me.

  In the kitchen, I fill the kettle and set it on the stove to heat, pull down my favorite selection of loose tea and decide on the lemon verbena and hibiscus blend. The simple act of making it feels good, and I survey my refrigerator for a snack. Powerful magick requires fuel. In other words, I’m starving.

  My sisters have been here. I find my favorite quiche—Summer’s contribution—a pasta casserole—Autumn’s—and a tray of cheese and crackers with fresh fruits. Mom’s pie bird sits in the center of the tray. Winter refuses to cook, but she’s at least made an offering.

  My breakfast island has a plate of cookies and a pan of brownies on it, along with a note telling me they’ve canceled the Beltane ceremonies and my only job this weekend is to rest.

  I toss down the note, disappointed and determined to talk them out of this decision. Like my father said, if we don't hold it, residents will sneak into the woods to do their own. Even if they’re safe for the moment, I’d feel better keeping people out of them.

  As I pour the hot water over my tea, I sense something prowling outside my window and freeze. Tell me it’s not another demon.

  My fear evaporates as I remind myself of the magick I possess. There’s little that can stand in my way. If something is trying to sneak up on me right now, it’s in for a big surprise.

  I tap into the protective ward I’ve placed around my home, seeing if I can send out feelers into the night and figure out what’s skulking around my cabin. Could just be a bear or wolf…

  Wolf, huh. Yes, it very well could be one of those.

  I recognize the sensation that flares in my breastbone and smile. A moment later, I hear a soft tap, tap, tap against the window.

  “Spring,” Tristan calls softly, “are you in there?”

  He’s apparently seen the kitchen light. I glance out but can’t see him, only shadows stretching across the lawn. “I’m here. Are you okay?”

  “I’m…” he chuckles under his breath. “Actually, I’m naked, so no, I’m not exactly. I’m not sure what happened earlier. One minute I was watching you wrestle with that thing, and then…” He pauses. “Anyway, I woke up in the forest and wandered around for a while, lost, until I got my bearings and made it back here.”

  I close my eyes for a moment, trying to decide how to explain. I remember my mother’s advice which I used to overcome the demon and embrace my full power. “If you’d like to come in, I’ll see if I can explain everything,” I tell him through the glass pane.

  “You don’t happen to have my clothes, do you?”

  I can’t help but chuckle.

  “I folded and set them on the porch chair for you.” I sense his relief, and hear him climbing the steps a moment later as I pour another cup for him before going to the door to let him in.

  He looks good, a five o’clock shadow on his jaw line, his usually straight combed hair going every which way like he just got out of bed. He sizes me up as I do him.

  “You look different,” he says.

  I lead him into the kitchen, pull out dessert plates, and cut the brownies. Some conversations need chocolate.

  He’s left his shirt unbuttoned, a black t-shirt underneath, and he’s rolled the long sleeves up to his elbows, exposing his muscled forearms.

  “Different how?” I lick fudge frosting off the knife before setting it in the sink, noticing how his gaze follows the movements.

  He looks me over again—my face, hair, down to my bare feet. “You’re kind of…glowing.”

  I’m in my favorite, well-worn pjs, my hair’s a mess, and I don't have a stitch of makeup on, but I find I don’t care. I wiggle my toes and smile. I feel like I’m glowing. “Thank you for helping me today.”

  He cocks his head slightly. “What did I do exactly?” I hand him a brownie and fork, slide the cup of tea to him. Then sit and take a big bite before launching into the story.

  I have to give him credit, he never flinches or looks skeptical. He’s quiet through the whole thing, eating as if we’re having a normal conversation.

  When I’m done, silence hangs between us, but it’s comfortable, as if we’ve sat here at my table many times discussing magick and demons.

  His eyes are on his plate when he asks, “So, I’m a shapeshifter?”

  I sip my tea and nod. “I could feel your Fae magick the first time I met you. Most learn about their animal forms early. Unfortunately, you didn’t, for whatever reason. It travels through bloodlines from generation to generation, so you must’ve gotten it from one of your parents, maybe both.”

  “I don’t know my biological parents. I was put up for a closed adoption at birth.” He glances at the moonlight shining on the floorboards near my bedroom door. “How come I never figured this out before?”

  “You must not have had a reason to shift. Your magick was suppressed very deeply. Once you formed a bond with me, and I came under attack, you shifted to protect me.”

  “I’m not sure how to handle this,” he says.

  “Don’t try to stifle it—that’s all I can tell you. As my mother said to me, you have to embrace your true self. Be who you’re meant to be.”

  He sits on that a moment. “Why didn’t you kill that demon? You had the power to, right?”

  Hoax stumbles in from the bedroom. “Pissmires and spiders in your marriage bed! Can't you two keep it down out here?”

  “Hoax,” I scold. A flush seeps into my cheeks at the thought of a marriage bed. “Stop that.”

  “Pissmires?” Tristan asks with a half-smile.

  “An archaic word for ant. It’s Irish. Never mind.” I clear my throat. “I wanted the demon to let the master know we’re
on to him and we’re not taking it lying down. We’re going after this thing, whoever—whatever—it is, and I think he’s holding my mother captive, maybe using her magick for some purpose. It must’ve taken a lot for her to break away and come to me. I’m going to free her.”

  He seems to consider this. “What’s your plan?”

  “Still working on that, but I’ll let you in on the details as soon as I figure them out.”

  His head bobs. “I’m not sure what I can do to help, but I’ll try.”

  It’s all I can ask. “You should probably check your messages. The people inside Conjure didn’t see what happened, but they do know there was an earthquake. It’s been reported, and most saw you outside with Dara, so they’ll be wondering what happened to you.”

  “Are Dara and Aaron okay?”

  “Yes, a few people were scratched and bruised but everyone is all right. Dara was adamant about speaking to you before she left, so I’m sure you have a message from her. Probably one from the date you stood up, too.”

  “Date?”

  “Your appointment?” I try not to sound annoyed. “I assume you had a hot date on a Friday night that I sort of…screwed up for you.”

  He looks thoroughly confused for a heartbeat or two. “Are you jealous?”

  I lift one brow in response.

  “There was no date, unless you consider a meeting at the county morgue fun.” When I look chastised, he continues, “We had a John Doe show up yesterday and I was supposed to drop by to fill out paperwork. With everything going on, I didn’t have a chance to do it during normal working hours.”

  “Wow, do I feel like a heel.”

  He pats my hand before taking out his phone and scrolling through missed calls and messages. “I suppose I should return a few before my deputies show up here looking for me.”

  “Good idea. I wouldn’t want them to start digging around and find the bodies we have buried out back.”

  He grins at the joke. “Do you mind if I stay a little longer?”

  My pulse hopscotches and I stand to clear our plates. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. More tea?”

  He shakes his head. I gather the cups, cover the pan of brownies, and place the plates in the sink. My pulse skips as I check the leaves in the bottom of his cup.

  There’s no Grim. I breathe a sigh of relief and look a little closer, angling it under the overhead light.

  Is that a…heart?

  My pulse continues to race as a big smile grows on my face. I’ve averted Tristan’s death and maybe stolen his heart, too.

  In silence, I wash our dishes while he checks in with his deputies and leaves a message for Dara, letting her know he’s fine and he’ll talk to her soon.

  The old me might’ve felt a spike of jealousy, but the new me couldn’t care less. I go to the bathroom and brush my hair while he finishes. Hoax stays in the kitchen keeping an eye on him.

  When I return, Tristan looks worried, the phone lying on the table.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “The tox screen on Annie and Jace came back.”

  This seems to be concerning to him. “And?”

  “The first didn’t find anything unusual, but the medical examiner knew I was looking at the essential oils in your blend, so he dug deeper. Both Annie and Jace took medication for blood pressure issues. I had him look for potential interactions between their meds and your oils. He found convallaria majalis in their systems.”

  Convallaria majalis is the scientific name for one of my favorite flowers. “Lily of the Valley?”

  “You don’t list it in the ingredients in your Sex Magick blend.”

  Sometimes the most common and innocent looking flower packs a wallop. “All parts of the Lily of the Valley plant, including the stem and leaves, are highly toxic. I never use it.”

  “Then how did it get into their systems?”

  I’d been sure they were killed by a demon. Maybe I’m wrong. “I suppose they ingested it. It wouldn’t take much to kill them. Even the water you put cut flowers in can have enough poison in it to be toxic,” I tell him. “Most have no idea they’re so dangerous.”

  His eyes lock with mine. We’re suddenly both thinking the same thing.

  Water. The sauna.

  He pushes out of his chair. “I think it’s time we reexamine where our victims died.”

  18

  Annie’s place is even creepier at night.

  The full moon hides behind clouds. Tristan pulls up to the house and grabs a large flashlight and a pair of gloves from the backseat. From the trunk, he withdraws a second flashlight, as well as another set of gloves, and hands both to me.

  We make our way to the sauna; the memorial flowers people left behind look tattered and ghostly in the silvery light. The police tape is completely gone and flutters against a dead tree stump ten yards away.

  Tristan goes up the step and opens the door, shining his beam inside. “Is it possible the water they used in here was poisoned?”

  All the way here, I turned the idea over and over in my mind. “It might’ve made them sick, but shouldn’t have caused instant death by any means. If they drank it, that’s a different matter.”

  “The coroner believes they died instantly from cardiac arrest, which the official medical exam will tell us when it’s complete. The Lily of the Valley could’ve caused that on its own, I’m guessing. Combined with the medications they were taking? Who knows, even absorbing it through the skin or inhaling it might have been enough to kill them.”

  “I was so sure it was that demon,” I say, shining my light around the area and off toward the woods. “Maybe they died accidentally.”

  “How?”

  I illuminate the house and the assortment of flowers near the foundation. “It grows wild in this area, in the woods as well as gardens. It’s everywhere. Maybe Annie put cut flowers in the sauna. When they died, she dumped the water on top of the heated stones, it evaporated, and they breathed it in.”

  It sounds like a stretch, but sometimes real life is weirder than the supernatural.

  And then I remember Dara saying Annie was a DIY sort of person. “Can we get inside the house and look around?”

  Tristan must see the lightbulb over my head. He doesn’t ask why, simply leads me across the backyard to the porch. It only takes a few seconds for him to jimmy the lock and lead me in. “Gloves on. Don’t touch anything without my okay.”

  The porch leads to the small kitchen. He flips on the overhead light and we glance around. The appliances are old, the refrigerator noisy as it runs. There are dirty glasses in the sink, no dishwasher, a few pictures on the side of the fridge held on by magnets.

  I recognize Aaron in one, posing with a man I assume is his father. They share the same set of eyes, nose, even the dimple in their chin. I wonder who he is.

  “What are you thinking?” Tristan asks.

  “Dara told me Annie was into DIY projects and didn’t like to spend money on things. If she thought the Sex Magick potion was working, she might’ve tried mixing her own version, not realizing Lily of the Valley are toxic.”

  He checks out the room “What are we looking for?”

  “Check the garbage and see if there are any stems or leaves. Maybe the pantry for anything labeled Lily of the Valley.” It couldn’t be that easy, right? “If it’s okay with you, I’ll take the bathroom and bedroom to search for any lotions she might’ve added the flowers to.”

  He nods, and as I go upstairs, I look at each of the pictures on the wall. Graduation for Annie and Jace. Their wedding. Dara standing next to Annie, the maid of honor. Jace and Annie seem happy in it, but Dara’s face is reserved, almost sad. Using the flashlight, I stare closer at Jace, my stomach dropping.

  Aaron’s father. There’s no doubt about it.

  By the goddess, Annie had to have seen the resemblance. It was Dara, her own best friend, who had the affair with Jace.

  Had it ended before Annie and Jace married? If
so, had Jace and Dara resumed their relationship recently?

  Maybe they never stopped. It’s something Tristan will have to look into and figure out, and although it’s motivation for Annie to try and save her marriage, which led her down the path of poisoning herself and Jace, there’s really nothing to be done about it.

  We’re looking for a needle in a haystack. It’s possible we won’t find any conclusive evidence, and, as I search for anything suggesting Annie made up her own potion, I’m only half listening when I hear Tristan’s phone ring downstairs.

  He answers with a gruff, “Yeah.”

  A minute later he comes to the second floor and, by the look on his face, I know something else has surfaced. “What?”

  In his gloved hand, he holds up a pregnancy test. “Found this in the garbage.”

  I move closer and see it’s negative. “Annie and Jace were trying for a baby?”

  “There’s more. Just got a call from the lab. One of the technicians is a friend and works nights. He tested the Sex Magick bottle. Guess what he found trace evidence of?”

  My stomach sinks. I shake my head. “No way. I never use Lily of the Valley in anything.”

  “But you have dozens growing in your garden, right? Could you have somehow cross-contaminated the vial with the other oils in the blend?”

  “Absolutely not. We used fresh Lily of the Valley for the Beltane crowns yesterday, and on occasion, I might include them in a craft item for the shop, but I never bring them into the kitchen. I’m extremely cautious about everything I do in there. I have to meet health codes, just like any other commercial kitchen.”

  “You understand I have to verify that. I need you to remove any Sex Magick bottles you have for sale and let me check them to be safe.”

  It’s not personal, I know, but it upsets me. “Of course,” I say, maybe a little too sharply.