Potion Sickness

by Samantha Silver

  “Oh, that was always the plan,” Mrs. Sadoveanu said. “However, we always believe in hard work, and learning every aspect of the job. Luca had started as a shelf-stocker because we wanted him to know what his future employees would be going through every night on that job. The plan was for him to do that for a few years, and then he would move into another role, and in about fifty years when we were ready to retire he would know every inch of the store inside and out, the way we had when we first opened it. You know, we had to get special dispensation to be able to work during the day, since we’re vampires.”

  “Right,” I said, my eyes widening slightly. “And this… fifty year timetable, Luca was alright with it? There was no resentment, no idea that maybe he deserved a little something a bit sooner than that?”

  “Time is different for you, being a witch. Remember, we are immortal. Luca was four hundred and fifty-seven years old. For us, fifty years is the equivalent of maybe five or ten years. He knew what the deal was, and he was fine with it. There was no resentment. Besides, we made sure that even though he was working a low-wage job his income was supplemented so that he was able to continue living the lifestyle he was used to.”

  I nodded slowly. Suddenly everything made a lot more sense. “Ok, so this lifestyle of his. Was there any part of it that worried you? Anything or anyone in his life that you think might have led to his death?”

  “Oh no, absolutely not,” Mrs. Sadoveanu said. “I will admit, once they hit two hundred or so young vampires do start to want their own lives away from their parents, so we weren’t privy to everything that was going on with him, but I’m telling you, Luca was a good boy. He wouldn’t have done anything that would have gotten him into trouble.”

  Someone obviously disagreed.

  “Who were his friends?”

  “You should speak with Grigore,” Mr. Sadoveanu said. “He works as a Healer, so you can find him at the hospital, mainly working nights. He and Luca grew up together; they’ve been friends for two centuries. Our families came from the same paranormal town in Romania.”

  “Ok,” I said, marking the name down. “What about a girlfriend?”

  “He was not seeing anyone,” Mr. Sadoveanu replied, and Mrs. Sadoveanu made a small sound, causing us both to turn to her.

  “Actually,” she said slowly, and Mr. Sadoveanu’s expression turned to one of disbelief.

  “He was seeing someone? Why would he not tell me?”

  “He wanted to see if the relationship was going anywhere before letting you know,” Mrs. Sadoveanu said, an apologetic look on her face. “I don’t think he meant to tell me, either. I spotted them out and about in town together a few weeks ago. He begged me not to tell you. He said he wanted to do it on his own terms.”

  “Who was she?” Mr. Sadoveanu asked.

  “Sorina.”

  “I know her family,” Mr. Sadoveanu said. “They’re good vampires. Why would he want to hide the fact that they were together? He was a grown vampire. I knew he was biting other vampires. Why wouldn’t he tell me?”

  “I got the impression they weren’t super serious,” his wife replied. “He wanted to see if they were going to go anywhere together before telling us. It was just chance that I found out.”

  “There was so much about his life I didn’t know,” Mr. Sadoveanu said, his eyes glazed over. “So much. Who could have done this? Who could have done this to my boy?”

  Tears welled in his eyes as his wife squeezed his hand. I put my pen down; I had a feeling I wasn’t going to get any more information out of the couple, and this was obviously so painful for them I didn’t want to extend their suffering more than I needed to. I would go speak with Grigore and see what he had to say about Luca.

  “Thank you for the help,” I told them. “I think you should go and be with your family now.”

  Neither one of them disagreed and the two vampires got to their feet and shuffled toward the door. I had known Mr. and Mrs. Sadoveanu my whole life, but it seemed as though they had aged a hundred years overnight. Well, considering they were vampires, maybe five hundred years overnight.

  “Please, find the paranormal who did this to my boy,” Mrs. Sadoveanu implored, taking my hands in hers, tears streaming openly down her cheeks. “Tell me you’re going to find his killer.”

  “I’ll do my best,” I replied. “I promise.”

  I intended to keep that promise.

  Chapter 5

  “Are they gone?” Vinnie asked, poking his head out from the bedroom door a moment later.

  “They are,” I replied, and he strolled happily back out into the main part of the shed. “Why are you afraid of vampires, anyway?”

  “They were just a lot bigger than I was expecting,” Vinnie replied. “It’s not that I’m afraid of them. I’m not afraid of most things. Are you accusing me of being a wimp? Because I’ll take you on!”

  He dropped his head and ran toward me, and I had to lift up my left foot to avoid being head-butted by my own familiar.

  “No, nothing like that,” I laughed. “I know you’re not a coward, Vinnie. I was just curious if something had happened in your life before me that left you afraid of vampires.”

  “Oh. Well, no, nothing of the sort. What did they want, anyway?”

  “They want me to find their son’s murderer,” I replied. “They’re going to pay me to do it.”

  Honestly, that part still seemed a little bit surreal. Heck, the fact that I had agreed to it still seemed surreal, too. What on earth was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I have just said no?

  It was the money. That was so much money, I knew I just couldn’t pass it up. I still had a decent amount of savings from the reward money for finding Blaze’s killer, if I added this total to my savings I’d actually be well on the path to being able to afford a new place for mom.

  Plus, if I was completely honest with myself, there was a part of me that wanted to investigate. It turned out, I liked solving puzzles. That was probably going to make me a good Magical Fixer one day. I could consider this practice for the exam I was going to have to take in a few months. The money would just be the cherry on top.

  “Why couldn’t they have just given me a normal witch?” Vinnie whined. “Why did I end up with the one who goes around hunting killers? Why couldn’t you have a normal job? You could have worked in an office, and I could have come in with you every morning and gotten lots of snacks and attention from your coworkers, but no, you had to be the weirdest witch on the block.”

  “Hey, you’re not exactly mister normal yourself, as far as familiars go,” I replied.

  “Excuse me? I’ll have you know that there are thousands of witches and wizards out there who would be so lucky to have a goat as their familiar.”

  “Sure, but you know each and every one of them wants a cat or a dog,” I said, and Vinnie let out a huff of annoyance. “See? So, like it or not, we’re both stuck with each other. Besides, it’s not like you have to come with me. I don’t mind if you want to sit around in the yard eating grass all day.”

  “That’s the dream life,” Vinnie replied.

  “There you go. Hanging out with the weird witch isn’t so bad. You get to do cool things like catch killers.”

  I pulled out my phone to text Willow, then bit my lip before I composed it. Hopefully she wouldn’t ask too many questions.

  Hey, do you know a vampire Healer named Grigore by any chance?

  Willow’s reply came through a minute later. ...Why do you want to know?

  No reason. Just curious. And also Luca’s parents hired me to find his killer. So there’s that, too.

  Of course they did.

  I’m serious! They’re paying me to do it.

  Sometimes I think they should do a reality show about your life, except it’s so insane no one would believe it.

  Thanks for the commentary. So, do you know him, or not?

  I do, but if you’re mean to me I won’t introduce you.

  Fine, but you get t
o explain to everyone why there’s a murderer running around town that isn’t caught because you’re being petty.

  And I’m sure everyone will understand when I tell them it’s because you were being mean.

  I replied with a few choice emojis, and got a reply back from Willow that she was working later that afternoon and would let me know if she saw him. That worked for me.

  I dug out an old notebook and began copying everything I’d learned from the Sadoveanu family about Luca. After all, if I was going to be paid for this, I was going to do it right and treat it like a job. That meant organizing all the information I could.

  I wished I knew who Sorina was, but the name wasn’t familiar to me. I realized there was one person I did know who would have that information, and I sighed.

  If I asked Grandma Rosie for help, I knew she was going to try and insert herself in the middle of this somehow. Then again, with the pie competition coming up in a few days, there was a chance she’d be too busy to insert herself into my life.

  I decided to give it a shot. Leaving Vinnie to sleep away the afternoon on the couch, I threw on my shoes and a jacket and wandered over to mom’s little cottage. I knocked on the front door, and my harried-looking mother answered a split second later, dressed like she was ready to go outside.

  “Oh, Ali,” she said, looking surprised. “How are you?”

  “Good, thanks mom. I’m looking for Grandma Rosie, though.”

  “Well, you can have her, let me tell you,” my mother said, squeezing past me and outside. “Your grandmother is driving me insane. I’m running errands and will be back in a week, if I’m lucky.”

  “Ok, mom,” I replied. “See you later.”

  “I can’t wait for the pie competition to be over,” my mom muttered. “Every single year.”

  I laughed to myself as I made my way inside. Grandma Rosie was in the kitchen, and my eyes widened as I took in the scene. Grandma Rosie looked like an abominable snowman that had just murdered an entire family of skiers. She was covered in flour – dear Rhea, I hoped it was flour – which gave her the crazed Yeti look, and there were splotches of red all over the kitchen. The walls, oven, counter and front of the fridge were all splattered with it like the world’s most delicious crime scene.

  How on earth she had managed to be this messy was beyond me.

  “Cherry pie? That’s not very holiday-like,” I offered up as I looked around. Grandma Rosie had at least six different bowls out, with about half of them dripping filling onto the counter. A giant ball of dough sat directly in front of Grandma Rosie, and she glared at me as she looked up.

  “I don’t have time for your mouth today,” she said. “This is an emergency.”

  I raised an eyebrow as I grabbed a stool, wiped off a bit of red pie filling and sat down on it, placing my chin in my hands as I looked at the pie.

  “The contest isn’t for days. Besides, you always win.”

  “Yes, but this year is different.”

  “Why? Because you’re going for the record?”

  “Because that conniving witch Gloria Melrose is planning on cheating her way into the blue ribbon that belongs to me,” Grandma Rosie snarled.

  “Gloria? Really?”

  “That’s right. I overheard her talking about it in the coffee shop. She’s got it all planned out. The problem is she didn’t go into detail about her plan. So I don’t know exactly what she’s going to do, but I’m going to stop her.”

  “Is your plan to walk out like that and pretend you’re a ghost?” I asked, earning myself another glare.

  “If you’re not going to be helpful, you can leave.”

  “Fine, fine,” I said, holding up my hands. “What kind of pie are you making this year?”

  “You’re not a spy, are you? You’re not on her side, secretly trying to get information?”

  “Of course I’m not. First of all, I like seeing you win every year. Secondly, Gloria Melrose failed me in tenth grade magical mathematics, so I hope you destroy her.”

  “Good,” Grandma Rosie said with a satisfied nod as she wrapped the ball of dough in front of her in plastic wrap and stuck it in the fridge. “I’ve been testing out a few different pies; I’ve yet to settle on the winner.”

  “You know, the fact that you’re out here testing pies and didn’t invite me to partake in the decision making really makes me rethink my plan to cheer for you.” How on earth could Grandma Rosie decide to make a bunch of pies to taste-test and not invite me? “Is it because more of the filling ended up on the walls than in the pie and you’ve had to start from scratch?”

  Grandma Rosie waved the wooden spoon she was holding, and a splatter of filling flew off and landed across my cheek. I reached my tongue up and licked some of it.

  “Mmm, cranberry.”

  “That’s going to be an orange cranberry cheesecake pie,” Grandma Rosie said. “The orange flavor is infused with the cranberries.”

  “You know, for a woman who is maybe the least domestic person I have ever met, you sure do know how to make a good pie.”

  “I’m not sure that’s the one I want to go with, though,” Grandma Rosie said, obviously forgetting about our back-and-forth and turning back to the pies. “I’m also considering a cherry and dark chocolate pie, making it more of a torte with an almond filling. Or finally I’m thinking a pear and vanilla bean custard pie.”

  “My vote is for that one.”

  “You haven’t even tasted any of them yet.”

  “Yeah, but nothing is going to taste as good as a pie with vanilla bean custard, I can tell you that right now.”

  “I hope you’re right. I’ve got one of each in the oven, and then I need to figure out what it is Gloria’s got planned to make me lose. I swear she’s had her panties in a bunch ever since the first year I entered.”

  “Is that because you originally entered just so you could beat her?”

  “No, I originally entered because Dorothy Westwood tried to steal Corrine’s husband, and at that point Dorothy had won the contest three years running. It was the only thing she had in her life apart from homewrecking, and I wrecked it for her.” I knew it wasn’t just about the money.

  “Well, at least you were super mature about it.”

  “Hey, in the end I won. Dorothy died two years ago and I made sure she never got that first place ribbon again. That’ll show her for trying to split up Corrine and Don.”

  “I worry about you sometimes, Grandma.”

  “It was a natural death,” Grandma Rosie said pointedly. “Now, instead of worrying about me, worry about which of these pies taste the best.”

  She pulled a tray from the oven and the warm smell of buttery pastry wafted toward my nostrils. I loved pie, and my grandmother was very good at making them.

  “How did you learn to make pies so quickly, anyway?” I asked. “Surely it would have taken you longer than a few weeks to master the art of baking.”

  “Don’t underestimate how far I was willing to go to ruin Dorothy’s life,” Grandma Rosie said. “Corrine is a wonderful woman, and Don might be a completely average husband, but she loves him and that’s all I need to know. For what it’s worth I got your mother to show me the basics, then I went and did an intense study course in France dedicated to pies.”

  “So that’s where you went all those years ago,” I said, realization dawning upon me. “That year you told us you were going to climb that big mountain in the human world.”

  “Mt. Everest.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh, I did that too.”

  I shot Grandma Rosie a disbelieving look.

  “Alright, so I embellished a little bit. But I couldn’t go around telling everyone I’d learned to make pies from a master of the craft just so I could beat Dorothy. I had to make it look effortless, to keep that air of mystique about me, and to embarrass her more.”

  I laughed. “Funnily enough, I can actually understand that.”

  Grandma Rosie cut the pies a
nd put three small slices on a plate, pushing it over toward me. “Now, tell me what you think of these.”

  Chapter 6

  Two hours later I left the kitchen feeling like if I lay on the ground I could simply roll myself back to the shed. I was absolutely stuffed with pie, the vanilla custard pear pie winning the taste test as I had predicted. Although I may have had two more slices of the orange cranberry cheesecake than was truly necessary as well. Or three.

  As soon as I made my way back into the shed I lay on the couch, groaning.

  “I’m never eating again.”

  “Does that mean I can have the bag of carrots in the fridge?” Vinnie asked.

  “It absolutely does not. I ate too much pie.”

  “You didn’t say there was pie where you were going!”

  “I didn’t know until I got there. Besides, it wasn’t for you.”

  “Well, way to make a goat feel left out.”

  “Maybe you can have a few carrots with dinner to make up for it.”

  “I agree to your terms.”

  My phone dinged, letting me know I had a new text message, and I groaned as I pulled it out, the effort too much for my bulging stomach.

  Why had I eaten so much pie?

  Inwardly cursing my own complete lack of willpower – but my goodness had they been delicious – I pulled up the new message on my phone to see it was from Willow.

  Just passed Grigore in the hall. He’s here at the hospital. I don’t really know him well enough to ask him if he wants you to interrogate him, though.

  I typed my reply. That’s ok, thanks for the heads up. I’ll be in soon. On a related note, how easy is it to pump someone’s stomach? I ate too much pie.

  Willow replied with three laughing emojis, then another message came through a second later.

  Sorry, gotta go handle the people with actual medical emergencies.

  “This is an actual medical emergency,” I muttered to myself as I forced myself to sit upright. “I’m pretty sure my blood type is now ‘pastry’.”

  Even though it was cold out, I decided to walk – or more accurately, waddle - to the hospital, in a desperate attempt to burn off some of the calories I’d eaten. On the way I had to pass about a block away from Luca’s townhouse, so I detoured off that way just to see what was going on. The crime scene tape was still there, but with the sun having set a few minutes earlier the crowd had fully dispersed, with just a couple final looky-loos hanging around to see if they could spot anything interesting.