Love Potion #9

by Claire Delacroix

  Love Potion #9

  Italy, August 1420 – A gypsy named Lilith sees her lover hanged for a crime he didn’t commit. On the gallows, he swears to return to her. Convinced that one day, he’ll be reborn, she searches for a fabled elixir – rumored to grant immortality…

  Toronto, August 1999 – Waiting has taken its toll on Lilith, now a fortune teller with a gift for matchmaking. So she concocts her strongest love potion ever. She is certain her magic has worked when the spitting image of her one true love moves in next door. A very practical – and skeptical – single father, Mitch Davison is intrigued by Lilith’s passionate welcome, yet suspicious of her motives. After all, he’s never believed in magic – and hasn’t believed in love since his wife left him. But when Lilith doubts her own intuition, it’s Mitch who must convince her that the greatest gift of all is the talent to follow your own heart…

  * * *

  Praise for Love Potion #9

  “A brilliant fantasy romance. Claire Cross proves that she is one of today’s superstars!”

  Harriet Klausner

  “Love Potion #9 is a keeper! The characters are likeable and real, the dialog is fast and funny, and the writing is witty and delicious. The multi-talented Ms. Cross wields her pen like a wand to give readers a truly magical and spellbinding love story, making believers of us all.”

  Tanzey Cutter for Old Book Barn Gazette

  “Four and a half stars! Love Potion #9 is utterly charming, mixing a centuries-old myth and a modern day love story with a fast-paced plot that keeps you laughing and wondering if you can really believe.”

  Romantic Times

  “The plot bears the stamp of a master storyteller - Ms. Cross’ style is irresistible. Passion is spiced with humor and flavored with emotional conflict. Fast and exhilarating, Love Potion #9 had me spellbound to the last word.”

  MT for Rendezvous

  “Get ready for a rollicking good time. Claire Cross is at her best, which means a treat for all her fans. Characters written with pathos and humor keep the reader on the edge of tears and laughter as we discover the mysteries of love, romance, sensuality and passion at the hands of the master. Hang on to your hats, ladies, this is one sexy book. If you aren’t a fan of Ms. Cross yet, this book will definitely win you over. Smartly written with more than an ample touch of comedy, Love Potion #9 will rise like cream to the top of the charts.”

  Kathee S. Card for Under the Covers

  “Love Potion #9 is a delightful, enchanting and magical book…This is one for your keeper shelf!”

  Rita Hyatt for WCRG on AOL

  “Claire Cross does an excellent job of blending passion, romance and humor in this story...This book is definitely one I could dive into over and over again.”

  Sharal Heinemann for All About Romance

  “Cheers to Ms. Cross for having written a wonderfully endearing fantasy romance that readers will have a difficult time putting down – and an even harder time forgetting.”

  Brenda K. Johnson for New Age Bookshelf

  “I laughed so hard, my cat got up and left the room.”

  Jennifer Dunne

  * * *

  Dear Reader –

  Love Potion #9 was one of four of my books that were published by Berkley in 1998 and 1999, using my pseudonym Claire Cross. All of these books are romantic comedies with paranormal elements. All four of these books are now available in new digital and print editions, although I have chosen to republish them as Claire Delacroix titles.

  Although I like each book that I’ve written, Love Potion #9 has a special place in my heart. It was the first romance I sold which was completely set in the present day. Previous to this, I had written historical romances, as well as two time travels for Berkley. It’s also a book that I like because of the structure – about halfway through the writing of this book, I decided to name each chapter after one card in the higher arcana of a tarot deck. This made sense, as Lilith, the heroine, reads tarot cards. But I also wanted the action of each chapter to reflect the meaning of the governing card in order for that structure to make sense. This was a creative challenge, but I was – and am – very proud of the result.

  The original edition had a beautiful cover by artist Judy York, showing Lilith surrounded by monarch butterflies, which is evocative of a scene in the book. Judy has graciously permitted me to use that same image for the new print and digital editions, and for this I am very grateful.

  It was good to have another look at this story, not just to remember how much I liked it in the first place, but to tweak a few things here and there. Other than correcting a few errors, I have avoided the temptation of revising it – it is essentially the same as the original printed edition.

  I hope that you enjoy Mitch and Lilith’s story.

  Until next time, I hope you are well and have plenty of good books to read.

  All my best -

  Claire

  www.delacroix.net

  * * *

  Love Potion #9

  By Claire Delacroix

  Digital Edition

  This romantic comedy with paranormal elements

  was originally published under the pseudonym Claire Cross.

  Cover illustration by Judy York.

  Copyright 1999, 2011 Claire Delacroix, Inc.

  The scanning, uploading, printing and distribution of this work without the express written permission of the author is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized versions of any work, and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  * * *

  Love Potion #9

  Table of Contents

  0 - The Fool

  1 - The Magician

  2 - The High Priestess

  3 - The Empress

  4 - The Emperor

  5 - The Pope

  6 - The Lovers

  7 - The Chariot

  8 - Justice

  9 - The Hermit

  10 - The Wheel of Fortune

  11 - Fortitude

  12 - The Hanged Man

  13 - Death

  14 - Temperance

  15 - The Devil

  16 - The Falling Tower

  17 - The Star

  18 - The Moon

  19 - The Sun

  20 - Judgment

  21 - The World

  An Excerpt from The Moonstone

  * * *

  Love Potion #9

  by

  Claire Delacroix

  * * *

  0

  The Fool

  Northern Italy - August 1420

  The gypsies slid into the town square as quietly as the dusk, gold on their earlobes glinting like starlight, women’s voluminous skirts rustling like the wind. They clung to the twilight shadows, silent and watchful.

  The gypsies came in silk and velvet, fabulous colors, gold and silver, gems aplenty, their tanned feet bare. To Lilith’s eyes, her clan was like visiting royalty among the dour townspeople, a glimmer of something rich and fine that these peasants would otherwise never know.

  She walked proudly in the midst of her kumpania, refusing to acknowledge the townspeople’s watchful silence. There had been a time when the Rom’s arrival had been greeted with cheers in this town. But on this night, suspicion was in the air, a taint of danger that no one with a nose could miss.

  Cards and palms, even the tang in the wind, told the Rom that something of import would happen here this night, something with dire consequences for their own fate. It was as clear as a summoning. A shiver raced over Lilith’s flesh as she stepped into the square, but she ignored the whisper of her Gift.

  In her secret heart, she admitted that she was afraid.

&nb
sp; Lilith fingered the tarot card hidden beneath her shawl. It had been the last card Sebastian had drawn, the card that had seemed so inappropriate at the time.

  Lilith could almost feel the warmth from Sebastian’s fingers still lingering on the card; she ran her thumb across its painted surface as the crowd parted. She craned her neck, seeking a glimpse of him in the crowd, seeking an explanation, seeking reassurance that her uncle had called the matter wrong.

  But Sebastian was not there.

  As Lilith’s heart sank and her uncle’s expression turned grim, the town crier raised his voice. He was a portly man, obviously filled with self-importance. “As you know, a woman, a kind and gentle widow has been killed in the sanctity of her own home.”

  The crowd stirred angrily and the gypsies exchanged glances of concern.

  “We gather this evening to see justice served, for the guilty culprit is in our own hands.”

  The hangman stepped forward in his dark hood, something dark tainted the air and the Rom instinctively shrank back against the walls. The peasants cheered in bloodthirsty anticipation as the hangman tied a knot in his rope.

  “We have the murderer!” the crier shouted. “We know his name and ‘tis not unfamiliar to you all.”

  And Lilith’s lover was led into the square.

  She caught her breath, her fingers tightening over the card. Sebastian, so tall and straight, so handsome, his chestnut hair in disarray, his wondrous eyes flashing in displeasure. Lilith’s heart thundered, her gaze greedily devoured the sight of him.

  Three whole days she had endured without his beguiling touch, the echo of his laughter, the warm glint in his eye.

  This was why he had not returned! Relief made Lilith’s knees weaken. She had not granted her maidenhead in vain. She cast a triumphant glance to her uncle, but that man did not even look her way.

  Lilith noted that Sebastian’s fine linen shirt was soiled, as he would never have permitted, had he been given the choice. His hands were bound behind his back, yet he managed to give a dignity to his role. There was a confident swagger to his step.

  “This man” - roared the crier - “this man is infected with the witchery of the Egyptians! He killed his own neighbor in a bloodthirsty rage, a rage unlike anything ever witnessed in him before. The man is enchanted! These wandering sorcerers have cast demons into his soul, they have made him other than what he is!”

  It was only then that Lilith fully understood the import of the crier’s words. Her eyes widened in shock.

  “No!” Lilith called in her dismay. This must be a cruel jest! She would vouch for her love. “No, Sebastian is innocent!”

  “Hush!” elderly Dritta hissed in Lilith’s ears, but Lilith ignored her council.

  Sebastian’s head snapped up, his gaze sought the source of Lilith’s voice, Lilith’s heart leapt when he smiled. She waved madly, oblivious to the agitated crowd. He did love her, after all! He had not come because he could not come.

  And surely nothing could come between them now!

  “Sebastian, Sebastian, I am here!” The gypsies instinctively stepped back into protective shadows and closed ranks around Lilith.

  “Lilith!” he roared and struggled against his bonds for the first time.

  “You see the truth of it,” the crier declared, his voice filled with disgust. “He is tainted by vagabonds.”

  “We are not vagabonds!” Lilith cried angrily, but Dritta drove an elbow into her ribs.

  The councilman spared Sebastian a glance and raised his voice over the din. “The priest demands you be burned,” he declared with a cold determination that chilled Lilith’s blood. “But you are Giorgio’s son.” There was a heavy pause and it seemed everyone in the square held his or her breath.

  Lilith bit her lip and clenched her fingers. They would release him. Surely they would set Sebastian free.

  He was innocent. He had to be!

  The crier slanted a heavy look at the younger man, his low voice carrying over the expectant crowd. “So, in deference to your father, we choose to hang you.”

  “No!” Lilith fought to be free of the gypsies encircling her, struggled to go to her beloved’s side. “This is wrong! It is unfair! Sebastian is innocent!” Lilith managed to say no more in defense of her lover, for Dritta clamped an iron hand across her mouth.

  “Fool!” the older woman muttered. “They will see you dead this very night!” Two cousins caught Lilith’s arms from the back and held her powerless despite her struggles.

  And as Lilith watched, unable to intervene, the hangman fitted the noose around Sebastian’s neck.

  Lilith’s mouth went dry. They could not do it. She fought, she bit, but she was sorely outnumbered. Desperate tears stung her eyes, but there was nothing she could do.

  The crier cleared his throat and glared pointedly to the Rom. “The burning,” he declared ominously, “We will save for the gypsy harlot. We shall burn the puttana who bewitched and tainted one of our finest sons.” The crowd hissed; the gypsies stiffened.

  Sebastian had not been bewitched! They were in love!

  “Lilith!” Sebastian bellowed as twisted against the heavy rope that bound his hands. “I promised I would return to you and I will, I will! I swear it to you.”

  Lilith bit Dritta’s hand. “Sebastian!” she managed to cry. “I love you!”

  Any answering declaration had no chance to leave Sebastian’s lips. The hangman tightened the noose and kicked away the stool beneath the younger man’s feet. Sebastian writhed as he dangled. Lilith could not bear to watch; she could not bear to turn away. Every eye was riveted on his struggle, but not a soul stepped forward to aid him. Lilith changed his name in her mind, her tears falling on her cheeks.

  “No!” Lilith screamed into Dritta’s hand. The kumpania beset her again and she fought against them. They could save him, if they stepped forward together. She struggled and tried to make herself understood, but she was overwhelmed.

  And suddenly, Sebastian was still.

  No.

  The townspeople turned as one, a thirst for vengeance bright in their eyes. A bevy of burning torches was lit, one after the other in rapid succession. The square was suddenly flooded with blinking orange light. The firelight flickered off the malice in the peasants’ expressions and Lilith’s eyes widened in sudden understanding of her own peril.

  They meant to see that burning done this very night.

  The burning of her.

  When her family released her, Lilith needed no urging to run as fast as her feet could carry her. The Rom retreated like the wind in the trees, even as the infuriated crowd lent chase.

  Lilith and her kumpania fled through the cobbled streets, racing toward the hills they knew so well, running for the forest that had sheltered them all these years.

  They ran to the growing volume of shouts behind them. They ran with their hearts pounding like thunder. They ran aching with betrayal and fear. They ran until they could no longer breathe. They caught old Dritta beneath the elbows when she stumbled; they swept children on to their shoulders.

  And they ran for their lives.

  * * *

  It was only when the town that had once welcomed them was a small orange glow in the distance, only when the villagers’ vengeful cries had faded to nothing, that they halted, panting beneath the protective shadows of the trees. Every gaze was drawn back to that angry village; every ear strained for sound of pursuit.

  None came.

  For now.

  Lilith found Dritta by her side once more, and she braced herself for the older woman’s lecture. But Dritta, with eerie conviction, plucked the hidden tarot card from beneath Lilith’s shawl.

  “Fool,” she snorted. Lilith knew she did not refer to the card itself. Dritta’s lip curled in disdain, the touch of moonlight on her features making her look older than she was. “You knew better.”

  “It was just a card!” Lilith protested.

  Dritta’s eyes flashed, and her fingers curled ar
ound the edge of the card. “You have the Gift. You can see beyond others. Your mother’s talent courses through your veins,” she hissed. “How dare you disregard the knowledge entrusted to you?”

  “I did not know…” Lilith blinked back her tears, still fighting to understand what had just happened.

  Sebastian was dead.

  Lost to her for all time.

  The world was devoid of promise. Of hope. The most magickal summer of her life was over, and there would never be another.

  Sebastian, her lover true, dangled at the end of a hangman’s noose. Lilith wanted only to hide away and weep for what she had lost, not answer Dritta’s questions.

  But Dritta spat in the grass. “You knew; you had to know that the Fool brings change and choice, transformation and journey. I taught you as much.”

  Lilith took a shaking breath, knowing that no one would respect her showing the weakness of tears. “Sebastian drew the card,” she said. “And clearly, Sebastian will journey no longer.”

  “No?” Dritta chuckled to herself, her response making Lilith look deeply into the older woman’s eyes. She found an unexpected conviction there, as well as a twinkle of mischief. “Maybe not in the way that you will.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Use the Gift you have been granted, child.” Dritta’s tone was more gentle. “She arched a brow. “Have you never truly listened to the tales we share? Nor attended to the cards you read so well? You read for him. You answered his query about love with your own heart hanging as full as a pomegranate, ready to be plucked and peeled.”

  Lilith blushed.

  “I saw you watch him, child. I saw your eyes when he came to you for his future. I saw the look that passed between you two when he entered our camp. I knew what would happen – and you would have known, too, had you cared to look.” Dritta shook her head and Lilith knew she had no secrets from this woman’s perceptive gaze.