“Is she old enough to drink?” Ronnie whispered to me as if Joey wouldn’t be able to hear her three feet away.
“She’s half pixie,” I said as an explanation for her size and childlike face. As it was, Joey was well into her twenties, not that the supernatural community cared much for human age laws anyway.
“So what’s the matter?” Ronnie asked. Joey looked up from the wine glass held in both hands. The pink hue of her cheeks had already darkened with the few sips she’d taken.
“It’s about Malachi,” Joey said, looking from me to Ronnie and back again.
“The boyfriend,” I said to Ronnie as I picked up my wine glass and took a gulp, finishing off my third glass. I definitely felt the wine then; my vision was a little fuzzy and I felt a little lightheaded. It was time for some food. “Go on,” I said to Joey as I pulled open the fridge door again and resumed the search Joey’s arrival had interrupted.
“I think he’s getting ready to break up with me,” Joey said, her voice cracking at the end. Tears shimmered in her eyes, and when I looked over the top of the fridge door, she blinked, making them spill down. A black streak of mascara ruined her carefully applied makeup.
“Why do you think that?” Ronnie asked.
Before Joey could answer, I said, “Because he’s a werewolf.” I heard Ronnie make a noise of understanding as I ducked back down and finally grabbed a box of left over pizza. I nudged the door closed with my hip and set the box down on the kitchen table. I pulled out a piece and took a huge bite. Ronnie took a piece when she realized it was just cheese, tomatoes, and basil on top. I nodded at Joey for her to take a piece, but she just shook her head and sniffed sadly.
“So you’re really dating a Were?” Ronnie asked. “Even though you’re not one?”
“Why does that surprise everyone?” Joey asked exasperated and set her glass down a little too hard, making me cringe, but it didn’t break.
“Because, Joey, Weres usually don’t date outside their race,” I said. “And when they do, it’s usually just a fling.”
“Not with Malachi and me!” Joey yelled, but her eyes bulged and her hand flew to cover her mouth as if she hadn’t meant to yell at us.
“You just said you think he’s gonna break up with you,” Ronnie said. I waved a hand at her to stop, not wanting Joey to fly into a rage and break my stemware.
“Fine, so what is it you want from me?” I asked, tearing off a bite of crust.
“A love potion,” Joey whispered. I wondered if she thought Malachi could hear her all the way across town. I mean, a Were’s hearing was good, but not that good. Ronnie groaned loudly, slouching in her chair. I shot her a look, and she took another bite of pizza to keep from voicing her opinion further.
“Joey, we talked about this last week,” I said, making Ronnie’s head snap up, looking daggers at me. “I told you a Were would be able to smell the potion, and it would be nearly impossible to slip it to him.”
“I know, I know,” Joey said quickly. “Look, I’ll figure it out, all right?” I looked at her and saw the desperation in her eyes and my heart went out to her. I knew what it was to be in love with someone only to feel them pull away from you, to watch them slip away like water through your fingers.
“Fine,” I said, shaking my head.
“Mattie, you can’t be serious.” Ronnie jumped in her chair and turned to face me.
“Ronnie, don’t.” I held up at hand. I did not want to argue with her about it. Ronnie opened her mouth, but after a moment, she closed it without saying anything and slumped back down in her chair. She turned her face away from me, tossed her long red hair over her shoulder, and pursed her lips. She’d get over eventually. If she was really that mad at me, she would’ve left. Besides, she knew as well as I did if I didn’t give Joey the potion, she’d find it somewhere else, and she might get taken advantage of by someone with lower morals. At least if she got the potion from me, she was safe knowing it was a real potion and at a reasonable price.
I went back to the kitchen, pulled out one of the premade potions I had prepped, and pulled the cork out before setting it on the counter. I found the finger sticks in the drawer and let Joey see me break the seal on it and pull the paper and film apart like a Band-Aid to access the sharp needle.
“Come here, Joey,” I said, crooking a finger at her. Joey’s eyes went to the needle on the counter and hesitated. I had an alcohol-soaked cotton ball ready and waiting.
“Having second thoughts?” Ronnie jeered, her voice a small echo as she spoke into her wineglass before taking a sip.
“No,” Joey said quickly, her voice stronger than I expected. Ronnie’s gibe got Joey out of her seat, and she walked over to me, slower than I had ever seen her move before.
“Hand please,” I said, holding out my empty hand for Joey’s.
“Will it hurt?” she asked. Her voice wavered as she whispered, hoping Ronnie wouldn’t hear her, but she did, as was obvious from the snort we heard.
“I’ll make it quick,” I promised as Joey laid her hand in mine. I wiped her finger with the cotton ball to sterilize it, and when I reached for the needle, I felt Joey’s hand tremble in mine.
“Still time to back out,” Ronnie said as she reached for a second piece of pizza.
“Shut up,” Joey said, turning her face to look over her shoulder at Ronnie. I took the momentary distraction to stick her finger. Joey jumped and hissed, but it was done.
“Wait,” I said, snatching Joey’s hand back before she could stick her bloody finger in her mouth and suck the blood off. I turned her hand over and squeezed three drops of her blood into the bottle. When the third drop hit the potion, there was a puff of purple smoke and the pink potion turned crystal clear. The spell was done.
“Is that it?” Joey asked around her finger as she stared wide-eyed at the bottle.
“That’s it,” I said and corked the bottle. I laid it on its side, grabbed a lit candle from the window sill, and dripped the melted wax on it to seal it. “Now,” I said, picking up the bottle and blowing on the wax to set it, “be careful only Malachi drinks this. It will work on anyone, so you don’t want to go spiking some punch at a party or something.”
“Eh, why not?” Ronnie said around a bite of pizza. “What’s the difference meddling in one heart or a hundred? I say spike the punch!”
“Thank you, Ronnie,” I said and turned back to Joey. “Be careful.”
“I will, I promise,” Joey said as she took the bottle from me and clutched it to her tiny chest. I could see all her hopes and fears lay naked on her face, and for a moment, I thought about taking the bottle back from her. I could think of a few charms that would do her some much needed good, but that’s not what she came to me for.
“It’s a hundred,” I said, my hand out.
“I thought potions were fifty,” Joey said. Her hand hesitated over her purse.
“That’s for medicinal potions,” I said with a shake of my head. “Love potions cost more.”
“Because they have higher consequences,” Ronnie said.
“Enough, Ronnie,” I said before saying to Joey, “So, one hundred.”
“Yeah, okay,” Joey said a little sadly as she rummaged in her purse and found the money. She handed it to me in a wadded up ball, and I had to lay it out on the counter to count it. When I found the full fee there, I gave her a nod.
“And remember, he’ll be able to smell that.” I pointed at the bottle. “If he catches you, you didn’t get it from me, understand?”
“Yes, yes,” she said, “thank you so much, Mattie.” She rushed past me and was out the door. I hardly had time to hear the tell-tale crack of the freezing spell breaking before the sound of the door slamming.
“You know,” Ronnie said, and I felt my shoulders inch up, ready for her barb, “after what Jimmy’s put you through, I would think you would have second thoughts about meddling with people.”
“Ronnie,” I said as I turned back to her and slid into my
seat, “I have to pay my bills.”
“I know, but you could just stick to charms and medicinal spells,” she said.
“And which should I give up: food or electricity? Or maybe heat or water?” I tilted my head and waited for her answer.
“You really make that much more money with these things?”
“Yes,” I said. “People who come to me for medicinal problems usually don’t have a lot of money because they can’t work, or can’t work a lot, and are barely making ends meet. I just can’t charge them more, you know? But love spells? Those I can charge more and make sure I can pay my bills.”
“Quite the dilemma,” Ronnie said. “I just hope she really did have a plan to slip it to him. I don’t even want to think about what he’ll do to her if he catches her trying to spell him.”
“Yeah,” I said with a sigh, reaching for another bottle of wine to uncork, “me neither.”
Chapter 5
I woke the next evening with a massive hangover. Artemis stood on my chest and kneaded my shirt. His tiny little claws felt like knives in my skin.
“Mrrrow!” he said, demanding that I get up and pour him some milk.
“Uncool, Artie, uncool,” I grumbled as I flipped the covers off, burying him in a mound of sheets. He hissed and spat at me as he clawed his way out, flicked his tail in the air, and turned his back on me before jumping off the bed. He sauntered out of the bedroom.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said as I dragged myself into the bathroom to attempt to make something presentable of myself. The cool tiles felt wonderful on my bare feet, but the effort to untangle my short hair didn’t. I finally got it tamed enough to tuck it behind my ears and took makeup remover to my face. The smudged black flakes under my eyes made me look like I had been in a bar fight last night, but when I got it all off, I just looked like I’d been sick for a week.
I switched off the light with a smack of my hand and made my way out of the bedroom, slipped on my house shoes on my way, and to the kitchen where Artemis waited for me. He was walking in circles on the countertop around his empty bowls.
“Oh, forgive me, your highness,” I said and bowed with a flourish of my hand. “Ugh, bad idea.” I straightened up and the room spun around me. I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth against the lurch in my stomach until it passed. The cream smelled wretched, but it wasn’t past its expiration date, so I knew it was just the hangover turning my sense of smell against me. After I poured Artemis a bowlful, I shoved the offending carton back in the fridge and fished out a cold soda to settle my stomach.
There were still a couple of pieces of pizza left in the box, which I was grateful for. The carbonated sugar and carbs worked wonders on my stomach, leaving me with only the thrumming beat in my head to deal with. As I leaned against the counter, munching on the cold pizza and Artemis lapping up his cream, I heard the soft whisper of paper against the hardwood floor. Artemis picked up his head, his ears turned forward as he looked toward the front door.
“Wonder what that was, Artie,” I said as dropped the half-eaten slice on the counter and dusted off my hands as I walked out of the kitchen. I could feel Artemis following me, jumping from one piece of furniture to the next, until we reached the front door. I looked down at the envelope with my name written on it. The script was elaborate and in a red so bright, it reminded me of spilt blood.
“Let’s not think like that so early in the evening,” I said to Artemis. I nudged the envelope with my toe experimentally, not wanting to pick it up. “What do you suppose it is, Artie?”
My smush-faced cat looked at me before he jumped down from the bookshelf by the door and crept toward the envelope. He crouched down, his pink nose dangerously close to the edge of the envelope, and I saw him twitch his whiskers as he sniffed it. His tail swished slowly back and forth across the floor as he considered it. When he sat back finally and began to clean his paw nonchalantly, I felt safe enough to pick the envelope up. I could feel some sort of energy when I traced my name, Matilda, not Mattie.
I turned it over and pulled the letter out. It was from the Dunhallows.
Dear Ms. Kavanagh,
We look forward to your quick resolution of our business arrangement. Please know, if you have any questions or concerns, we are at your disposal. We are eager to resolve this matter in a quiet and efficient manner. We understand our emissary has explained the urgency and stakes should this situation not resolve itself satisfactorily.
Ever your servants,
Lord and Lady Stoirm Dunhallow
I stared at the letter. They were ambiguous enough, but I knew what they meant. I held my breath as I upended the envelope and watched Owen’s ring slip out, falling into my empty hand. I rolled the cool metal ring between my fingers, feeling the zing of the charm I had laid in it so long ago. It was a simple charm of protection, not that it had helped him now, but there was no mistaking it for a fake. They had taken Owen to get me to obey.
“Damnit!” I stomped my foot and crumpled the letter and the envelope before tearing them into a hundred pieces. I screamed wordlessly and the pieces of paper burst into flames in my hands, the ashes smoldering as they drifted to the floor where I stomped on them. I heard Artemis hiss in surprise as one flaming bit hit him on the tail, and he shot out of the room faster than I could track. When all the paper was obliterated and only the black smudges on my hardwood floor remained, I finally stopped. Owen’s ring cut into my palm in my closed fist and my head was in some invisible vice. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to lose what little food I had in my stomach.
“Sneaky fucking fairies!” I yelled at the ceiling. My heart pounded against my ribs as I walked back into the kitchen. I took a swig of soda as if it was something stronger, slamming the can back down the counter. I felt Artemis twining around my ankles, having come out of hiding when the tiny fires had stopped. I bent down and picked him up, holding him against my chest and burying my face in his fur.
He was purring, a deep rumbling that calmed me as he rubbed his face against mine. “Mrrrow.”
“Yes, I know,” I replied with a dramatic sigh. “I know I have to go get him.” I set him back on the counter by his half-empty bowl so that he could finish his breakfast. “I have to do something about this hangover first. No way I’m dealing with fairies feeling like this.” I started pulling out spelling supplies.
***
A couple of hours and a two headache charms later, I was standing in the middle of Carraway Park at the stithen of the fairy mound. There was no door or archway or anything that told me how to get inside the mound. I wandered around the raised earth, careful of the toadstool rings and clover flowers that were scattered around the area. The last thing I needed was to piss off another fairy.
“Um,” I said, clearing my throat. “Hello?” My voice was weak, but part of me really didn’t want anyone to answer me. I turned on the spot, checking behind me for anyone, but when I turned back around, I ran right into a man, knocking myself back on my butt.
“Ms. Kavanagh, I presume?” the tall, silver-eyed fairy said, not bothering to offer me a hand to help me up.
“Yeah,” I said, biting off the word as I climbed back to my feet, dusting grass off of my jeans and straightening the strap of my bag.
“This way,” he said, gesturing to the high archway that led to a dark tunnel into the ground that wasn’t there a moment before. Without waiting for me, he turned and headed into the dark.
“Awesome,” I said, taking a deep breath to fortify myself before I followed him in.
Once inside the tunnel, the opening closed behind me without so much as a rumble. One moment it was there and the next gone. I tried not to think about how I was going to get out of there as I followed the ever helpful fairy man in front of me.
I expected to have to walk for miles before I ever reached my destination, but after just a few moments, we were walking into a grand throne room. I had to wonder if the short trip wasn’t some magical illusion, the realm just shifting aroun
d me. Our steps echoed in the nearly empty room. The ceilings soared high overhead, dripping with twinkling lights and vines of night blooming jasmine that perfumed the air. At the far end were two rather subdued thrones.
I expected huge, ornate things that glittered with huge spires reaching for the ceiling. Instead, the Lord and Lady sat in two low, backless wooden chairs. They almost looked like naturally shaped tree stumps with curving armrests. The only thing grand about them was that they were raised on a dais, so though they sat low, they were still above their audience.
My escort moved to the side, melting away and leaving me to approach the formidable fairies all by myself. I could feel the twinge of pain growing in my jaw, inching up to my temple. I opened my mouth to flex my jaw, trying to loosen the muscle and relieve the pain. I gripped the strap of my bag with both hands, clutching it in front of my chest like some sort of shield. Stopping a few feet from the bottom step of the dais, I was at a loss as to what to do. They weren’t my royalty, but I felt the compulsion to curtsey or bow my head tugging at me.
I lifted my chin slightly, refusing to be cowed by the matching pair of black eyes bearing down on me. Willow, the Lady of Dunhallow, lifted her chin in return, staring down at me, the sharp line of her pointed nose a perfect right angle on her face. Stoirm, the Lord, was a black cloud of anger at her side. He sat forward in his chair. His elbows flared out to the sides, braced on the curved armrests, his silvery brows drawn together over his black, endless eyes.
Locked in a three way staring war, I knew they were waiting for me to speak first, possibly to throw myself at their feet and grovel, beg for their forgiveness. Well, they were going to have a long time to wait then. I had nothing to beg for; I hadn’t done a damn thing wrong and they were just going to have to get over themselves. The throb was growing in my jaw again, but something inside of me said if I broke the eye contact, took a moment to work my jaw apart again, I would lose this battle. Somehow I would appear weak before them, and then they would have me in their little mind game trap. I’d let my head split open from the throb before I let that happen.
Wytchcraft: A Matilda Kavanagh Novel Page 5
