Pick Your Potion

by CC Dragon

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “I can’t believe Mrs. O’Conner is dead. I can’t believe there is reason to believe we did anything bad to her.” I went into the employee-only kitchen area and brewed myself some tea.

  “They’re just doing their job. I’m sure it’s nothing. Unless you think it’s an excuse to nose around here? That they’re looking for Ryan?” she asked in a hushed voice.

  I shook my head. “At first, I thought that. But they seem like it’s routine. There is something they’re not telling me. But it was all about Mrs. O’Conner. They haven’t asked anything about you or Vinny. Nothing about a stranger hanging around. Nothing like that.”

  “Let’s hope they do the autopsy and tox screen and find nothing but natural causes. We can get this off our minds. We don’t need cops roaming around with Mr. Personality down there.” I sighed then sipped my tea.

  “I’ll call Vin and let him know,” she said.

  “No, wait until they’re gone. I don’t want anyone acting oddly. We need to be business as usual,” I said.

  “The staff needs to know,” she said.

  “When the cops leave. They’ll be asking what they wanted, anyway. But I’d rather the cops not be here with all the random questions. We’ve got some vampires out there. It’s not the same team that was working.” I fished my lip gloss out of my pocket and reapplied it.

  My aunt patted my shoulder. The gloss was a nervous habit when I could do nothing. Then again, it was a very frigid winter, and my lips felt chapped.

  I texted the baristas who were on that morning with Mrs. O’Conner to come in for a two o’clock meeting. Lunch could get a little busy, too, but there was a lull until the evening rush, and the evening brought in various groups and loners. I wanted as few people around as possible so it wouldn’t interrupt business.

  Twenty minutes later, Esme walked out of my office and escorted the detectives to the door. I was relieved when she didn’t go with them.

  She walked over to me at my usual table in the back corner by the kitchen. No customers wanted that table so it was my open office area. My aunt had found a project restocking the tea bags. We carried so many varieties that the baristas got overwhelmed trying to restock them during breaks, so when she needed to escape reality, she got lost in tea.

  “Everything okay?” I asked Esme.

  She nodded. “They want to talk to me, again. They recorded my voice.”

  I frowned. “Your voice? What a headache. I’m sorry she’s gone, but what could we have done?”

  Esme shook her head. “Nothing. Don’t stress about it. They’re doing their job. They’ll make a fuss to impress the family. The autopsy and tests will show she died of natural causes, and it’ll be over. It might take a few weeks, but they can’t prove we did something that we didn’t do.”

  I nodded. “I’m pretty sure that’s what the witches from the 1600s said, too. We didn’t ruin their crops so they can’t prove we did.”

  “Stop making good points. Ignore the humans. Let them spin their wheels. She was too old and ill. It had to be natural. Who’d want to kill her?” Esme asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe we should start checking into her life? Just in case,” I said.

  “Stay out of it,” Esme warned. “But I did predict we’d never see her, again. Sometimes, my powers are wicked weird.”

  I laughed. “Talk about a bad way to have a right prediction.”

  “Now, let’s talk about how to break this to the staff. Because your vamps will bolt,” she said.

  * * *

  On the second floor, my aunt had lit a white candle and placed it at the center of the table. She burned sage just in case Mrs. O’Conner was haunting us with any negativity.

  She chanted for the soul of our dead customer as the baristas assembled for the afternoon meeting.

  When we were all there, I grabbed my aunt’s hand. “Would you go watch the shop? You weren’t there when Mrs. O’Conner was.”

  “But her spirit might need help,” aunt said.

  “You can chant or help her reincarnate down there until a customer comes in. It’ll only be a few minutes,” I said.

  She nodded and grabbed another white tea light candle. We put some on the bigger tables in the evenings for a little mood lighting, but I wasn’t a fan of open flames. I had all the proper insurance, but customers could be careless. Enough witches had burned; I wouldn’t be one of them.

  “The twins are going to put together a gift basket for the family,” Aunt Mandy said as she slipped out the door.

  “People usually send flowers,” replied Margaret, the middle-aged barista who’d made Mrs. O’Conner’s drinks.

  “We’ll do that as well when we know when the funeral is. It seems you’ve all heard Mrs. O’Conner is dead. She didn’t wake up yesterday morning. I don’t have all the details, but apparently, she’d told her husband about her incident here and that she was really unhappy. The police think it’s natural causes, but they have some sort of information that has them investigating until they get results back from the medical examiner.”

  “They came in?” asked Margaret.

  “Yes, this morning. They spoke to me and Esmerelda. I had to give them all of your names, so they will likely be contacting you individually. Just tell the truth. We goofed an order. We made it right. We had a spill. We offered dry cleaning costs and free coffee.”

  “For a month. Too generous,” Esme said.

  “I’d rather be too generous than not. The point is that’s all we know. I didn’t see her afterward. I’m very sorry she’s gone, but we didn’t do anything to harm her health. She did have health issues, and odds are it will be ruled natural causes. Soon, we’ll be done with the police part.” I looked around. “Questions?”

  “She threatened us because we’re witches,” said one of the younger female baristas who was also in the coven.

  “She didn’t do anything with it. She was just mad. A lot of people take that easy shot. Like we should magically brew things. Snap our fingers or wiggle our nose like Bewitched, and their coffee should be ready in seconds. We hear those comments all the time when someone has to wait. Don’t look for trouble. Answer their questions, don’t embellish or offer random comments. They have enough to do,” I said.

  “I can’t believe they’re investigating us for this. There are real crimes out there.” Margaret sniffled back some tears.

  “You did nothing wrong. None of us did. It’s a shame, but she was a brittle diabetic. She had a lot of complicated medical issues. She was a balancing act. We did everything we could to make her happy. She didn’t appear weak or ill, at all.”

  “I’m just nervous,” Margaret admitted.

  “That’s okay. The police are used to people being nervous. Just admit you’ve never been questioned or anything before, so you’re nervous. And you always have a right to have a lawyer with you if you want one.” I pointed at them.

  “That won’t make you look guilty,” Esme said.

  “It’s your right. It’s not something they can use against you in a court,” I replied.

  Esme shrugged. “This is all worst-case scenarios. They’re just doing their jobs. Do your jobs, answer their questions, and don’t overreact.”

  “Any questions?” I asked

  They shook their heads.

  “Great. Thanks for coming in. Don’t worry. Sorry for calling you in on your days off, but the police will be contacting you. Feel free to come in or call me anytime if you’re worried,” I said.

  “Thanks,” Margaret said.

  “We’re with you. Margaret made that drink right. Iced or hot was the only difference,” said Ellen, the Wiccan barista.

  “Thanks.” Margaret nodded.

  “We’re all in this together. We might get a little bad press or a few protesters. Handle that the same way we always do, only be even nicer. More patient because someone is dead. We just want her family to have peace knowing that it was natural. Now, go
on with your days. Don’t let death consume your thoughts,” I said.

  My aunt was a hippie more than a Wiccan. She’d chant and hope for Mrs. O’Conner’s reincarnation. I just hoped she found peace in the afterlife.

  As the group wandered back to their day, I went downstairs. My aunt was working the counter as the twins filled a big basket with the basics.

  Esme walked up. “Her husband is accusing us murder, and you’re doing a gift basket?”

  I picked out darker roast coffees and black teas, plus a few samplers. “We can send it to her daughter. I know she mentioned a daughter and a grandson. The hubby will get the flowers at the funeral.”

  “It’s a nice gesture,” Iris added.

  “It is. I’ll write a note and take it over there. Esme, I want to talk to you about the library thing. And what the cops wanted to know.” I didn’t want to seem bossy, but I needed to know all the information.

  “Can we help?” Violet asked.

  “See if you can research Mrs. O’Conner’s whereabouts without bugging her family or the cops. Social media, maybe. I don’t know if she used it much. I’d like to retrace her steps, if we’re on the suspect list—who else is?” I was tech savvy, but the twins, who lacked magical powers, made up for it with tech skills. Violet was studying computer programming or something.

  “No problem,” Violet said.

  “Come on, Esme,” I said.

  “I feel sick,” she replied.

  “I’ll make you some healing tea. All the death talk and inquisition is hard on the spirit,” Aunt Mandy said.

  “I could use some of that, please. We’ll be in my office,” I said.

  “We did nothing wrong,” Esme said as we walked.

  “I know. But being in the crosshairs is stressful, and we don’t know all the evidence they have. Maybe a certain stealthy black cat could sneak in there?” I asked.

  “Into a police station? I’ll end up in the pound.” She laughed.

  “True. We can’t risk exposure of our actual magical powers. But we have to do something,” I said.

  “Agreed. Getting rid of that hunter is job number one,” she said.

  7

  After a night of tossing and turning I had to agree with Esmeralda. Having Ryan here with cops sniffing around was asking for trouble. With any luck, the police thing would be over with a few tests, but I had no control over any of that. I couldn’t just sit around the café waiting for the cops to come back or call. There was a business to run. I hit the bank for our weekly deposit and change. Then, I stopped a fast food place for some breakfast sandwiches and hash browns.

  I dodged questions and concerns with confidence. There was only one place to get some answers, now. With a drink holder full of beverages, the food, and my inventory list, I went down to our visitor. He grumbled and hid under the blanket when he saw it was me.

  “I have food, and I’m doing inventory. You can relax.” I tossed a bag on him and set the coffees on the table. I pulled up a chair and ate, taking my preferred drink, just in case he thought I was trying to butter him up. I wasn’t. He needed to eat, and I needed to do inventory. But info would be good.

  “I knew you couldn’t resist me,” he said after a gulp of coffee.

  “Resist, I can. Inventory must be done, and poor Aunt Mandy and Esmeralda have been down here enough. You sound like you’re feeling better.” I finished my food then wiped my fingers with a napkin. Another slug of coffee, and I was ready to get busy.

  “You really hate having me here?” he asked.

  “I have enough trouble with customers and the coven. I understand what happened to you, but the bravado. The flirting. The act. I can see through it. You’re afraid. What are you afraid of?” I asked.

  “Prison isn’t enough? A charge for murder that I’m not guilty of? I mean, it was protecting innocent people and self-defense,” he said.

  “They obviously won’t see it that way or you wouldn’t be running.” I pulled out my inventory tally from last month. It wasn’t just a cover; I needed to do the job. I hated it and usually pawned it off on the cousins, but not this time.

  He unwrapped his sandwich and sighed heavily. “The video shows me shooting the creature as it ran from me. That doesn’t say self-defense but letting a werewolf loose in a mall?”

  “I know. I understand that part. You can always argue he said he had a bomb, and you were defending the public.”

  “He didn’t have a bomb. He had friends who will accuse me of murder and not stop,” he said.

  “Friends?” I turned and watched as he ate.

  Ryan nodded and took a bite of a hash brown.

  “Werewolf friends?” I asked.

  “I didn’t know. I thought they might be. The moon was just rising.” He kept eating.

  “So, these friends saw the guy shift into a werewolf? Why would they want you charged with murder if they saw the truth?” I asked.

  “Maybe they knew and thought he was tame. Maybe they just want revenge. Maybe they were vampires or witches or some types that thought werewolves deserve to live and hunt because it’s their nature. I don’t know. But between the video and the witnesses, I can’t just go home. I want to, but I’d put my hunter buddies in danger.” He crumpled his trash and shot it at the garbage can.

  “What about family?” I asked.

  “Hunters aren’t supposed to have family,” he said.

  “My uncle does. And everyone has family family. Like siblings and parents.”

  “Except you,” he replied.

  “Touché. But I had parents. They’re just dead. What about you? It’s not fair you know so much about me,” I said.

  He grinned like he was getting somewhere with all his flirting. “You’ve seen nearly every inch of me. I can’t say that.”

  “And you won’t. Come on. Siblings?” I asked.

  “A younger sister. I won’t have her visiting me in jail for doing my job.” His face got hard, as though resolved to keep her good opinion of him intact.

  “That’s sweet. Does she know what you do for a living?” I listed a new first aid kit on my list of odds and ends. Then, I wrote a number two next to it. The hunter had really tapped us out of gauze and other supplies. They weren’t used often, not since my uncle had semi-retired, but they were necessary.

  “No, not really. She thinks I’m a bounty hunter. It explains the lifestyle and the guns.” He shrugged.

  “I like that. Makes sense while you go after fugitive werewolves or vampires,” I replied.

  “I left her a message that I’m on a hunt for a motorcycle gang that attacked a young woman. They skipped bail and went on the road together, so some hunters and I teamed up to protect people. We’ll split the bonds.” He sat up a little straighter.

  “Nice story. You should write books,” I teased him.

  “You get good at thinking fast and fibbing to protect others. I have to keep her safe,” he said.

  “What happened to your parents?” I asked.

  “My dad bailed when I was little. He went out for a drink with his buddies and never came home. Mom worked herself to death at unskilled jobs. I mowed lawns and washed cars until I was old enough to deliver pizzas. That’s how I discovered the other world.” He looked at me like I was part of it.

  Was I the enemy in his eyes?

  “You discovered werewolves delivering pizza?” I asked.

  He grinned and nodded. “I worked late. As late as I could. This one place delivered to a college, and they stayed open twenty-four hours. I took the shift after dinner, so I did my homework, had dinner with my sister, and then went to work until the sun came up. The owner warned me to never approach anything that looked like a stray dog. They gave me pepper spray for the dogs. And a wooden stake. There were jokes about Buffy and Lestat. I thought it was a hazing joke for the new kid.”

  “Until…” I prompted.

  “Until I delivered a bunch of pizzas to a frat house. There were two delivery guys—that’s how ma
ny pizzas they ordered. So, I wasn’t alone, at least. They opened the door, and it was a bloody mess. People screaming. Trying to run.”

  “The vampires opened the door? You’d think they’d have enough to feed on,” I said.

  “They did, but they wanted more. They had some people tied up, untouched. Later, I found that the vamps were saving those. They were virgin blood. Luckily, I didn’t have that problem. I dropped my pizzas and ran. Like a fool.” He laughed.

  “They caught you,” I filled in.

  “Of course. The other delivery guy, Jack, he had a stake in his pocket at least. He killed a couple before they fed on him. He had bite marks all over his body.”

  “And you?” I asked.

  “I ran, but there wasn’t a point. Vamps move quicker than you can blink, and more and more just kept coming. There are some really bad groups called nests that hunt together. They ended up dragging me back in the house. I fought them off and ran, trying to escape. They enjoyed watching me run in a panic, circling through the house like a cornered rat. A female tried a different approach—offered whatever I wanted if she could feed. I was tempted but got lucky. I ended up in a room where some kid had been doing pot. I grabbed his lighter and torched the ugly curtains. It set off the sprinklers, but I shouted fire. Vampires can’t fight fire.” He rolled on his back and folded his arms under his head. “They took off while it was still dark. I called for ambulances and stuff. Untied people and helped. I couldn’t help Jack.” He sighed.

  “That’s very heroic. I don’t know if I’d have been that brave at sixteen,” I admitted.

  “You would’ve been. Tough witch like you.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “That’s how found out about vampires and werewolves. How did you get into hunting? It’s a pretty tight network.”

  “Sure. Well, my boss heard about it, and he was in the network. He didn’t want his employees getting eaten. I got some more training and met some guys. They did construction and went hunting at night. Come to think of it, they might’ve been gypsies, but no one ever talked about anything but the hunt. It was like families and other stuff didn’t exist.”