Chapter Thirty #2
‘You making them for the Founders’ Fair?’ The event took place the last weekend of May every year to celebrate the anniversary of the date Chilgrave was founded. ‘You usually have a market stall, don’t you?’
‘I do. And yes, I’ll be selling these at the market – along with a dozen other kinds of potions.’ She peered down at the old text again and then chanted low. Magick dust in colors of teal blue, black and silver coasted down into the cauldron. The water there fizzed and gurgled for a few seconds.
‘Are you going to let any of the witches who attacked you buy anything from you?’
‘Nope.’ She stirred the brewing potion with her athame. ‘I meant what I said to them. I’ll never lift a magickal finger for any of them again.’ She set her blade down on the altar. ‘They can go swivel.’
A smile warmed his chest. ‘So ruthless and unforgiving.’
‘You say that as if it pleases you.’
‘It does. I like that you take no one’s shit. Fact is you shouldn’t have to.’ He wouldn’t want her to be any different.
A knock came at the front door.
She pulled a face, clearly annoyed by the interruption.
‘I’ll get it.’ He left the room and walked to the front door.
Opening it, he found Kerr standing on the porch wearing a We gotta talk look.
Ripper sighed, his hand clenching the edge of the door.
‘We need to make it a law in the clan that no shit is permitted to happen on a Sunday. It isn’t unreasonable to want at least one day per week where there’s pure peace. ’
‘I hear you,’ Kerr muttered.
‘Whatever this is can’t wait until tomorrow?’
‘Depends. I’m not sure how much worse it will get in the hours between now and then, so I thought it best to check. Also, it could be that CeCe’s wrong anyway.’
Feeling his jaw harden, Ripper stepped aside and waved his friend into the manor. ‘Wrong about what?’
‘She came to me with a . . . complaint. She would have gone straight to you, but she knows you’re pissed at her.’
‘What kind of complaint?’ Ripper released the door, and it closed by itself.
Kerr grimaced. ‘She believes that Emberlyn has used magick on her somehow.’
‘What? Why?’
Humor glimmered in Kerr’s eyes. ‘Because her hair has turned lime green, and there are tiny bits of mold in it.’
Ripper went still. ‘You’re joking.’
‘Nope,’ said Kerr, the word coming out on a barely suppressed chuckle. ‘I mean, it could be that another witch is responsible . . .’
But it was unlikely. Very unlikely.
When Emberlyn hadn’t explicitly stated that she wouldn’t retaliate over CeCe territorially marking his tire, he’d expected something.
But then days of nothing had gone by, so he’d assumed that she’d chosen to let it be, to just be content with the fact that he had dealt with it.
And it now seemed more than probable that he’d assumed wrong.
Ripper returned to the consultation room with Kerr close behind him.
Emberlyn didn’t look their way, seeming absorbed in what she was reading as she skimmed her finger along a page of the open book. Her nose wrinkled at whatever she’d read.
‘Em?’
‘Hm?’ An absent response.
‘Em?’ Ripper pressed.
‘Yeah?’ she asked distractedly, still not looking at him.
‘Remember when CeCe marked my tire?’
‘Um-hm.’
‘Did you retaliate?’
‘You said you’d handled it,’ she said, her tone flat and inattentive, her gaze still locked on the book in front of her.
‘I did, but she’s recently developed a strange little problem.’
His witch blindly reached out and grabbed a small bottle from the collection she’d plonked on the altar. ‘Misfortunes often befall those who cause issues for others.’
‘Misfortunes. Right.’ Ripper folded his arms. ‘Her hair is green and moldy.’
Emberlyn pulled the topper off the small bottle. ‘Oh. Yeah. That was me.’
Kerr barked a chuckle, his shoulders shaking.
Figuring he should have expected that she’d do something like this, Ripper rubbed at his nape. ‘You haven’t been anywhere near her. How could you have done it?’
‘Proximity doesn’t make a difference with all spells,’ she replied, sprinkling some sort of white powder into the cauldron.
‘Her hair is her crowning glory,’ Kerr cut in, grinning. ‘But of course you knew that.’
‘Of course.’ Her eyes cut to Ripper. ‘At least I didn’t make her smell of urine the way she did your tire.’
He felt his head twitch to the side. ‘You considered that?’
‘Among other things, yes. I like to plot. You know that.’
Yeah, he did. ‘Can you undo the spell you cast?’
‘I could,’ she said, jamming the cork back on the bottle.
‘Are you going to?’
No response.
Ripper inwardly sighed. ‘Baby.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Much as I appreciate the creativity behind your revenge – and admittedly find it amusing – I need you to undo the spell.’
‘Why?’ Adding more magick dust into the brew, she stirred it with her athame again. ‘To placate her itty-bitty feelings?’
‘No, because I don’t want the rest of my clan to fear you. They should fear you, I know that, but I’d rather they didn’t.’ He wanted them to be perfectly comfortable around her. ‘Help me out here.’
She let out a long-suffering sigh and then looked at Kerr. ‘Tell her that her hair will go back to its normal color if she says the following words out loud: “Ripper belongs to Emberlyn, not me.” She’ll also have to write lines.’
‘Lines?’ Kerr echoed, his lips twitching.
Emberlyn nodded. ‘If she wants rid of the mold, she needs to write “I must not piss on people’s tires” twenty times.’
Kerr laughed, spinning to face Ripper. ‘This is extra. I love it. CeCe, however, is gonna hate it.’
Anyone would hate having to concede a difficult truth aloud. But for them to then have to write lines like a child – a silent message that a person saw them as childish – would add insult to injury. So yeah, it was ‘extra’.
Ripper took a step toward her. ‘When time passed without anything happening to her, I thought you’d decided to let my punishment be enough.’
Opening a jar of honey, Emberlyn again briefly flicked her gaze his way. ‘I was just lulling her into a false sense of security. It makes things more fun.’
‘Agreed,’ said Kerr. ‘You need to keep this witch, Rip, because she’s awesome.’
‘Thank you, Kerr.’ Emberlyn dropped a little honey into the cauldron. ‘So, she reported it you, huh?’
‘She did,’ Kerr confirmed with a nod.
‘Did she cry? I was hoping she’s a sobber.’
‘There were tears.’
Smiling, Emberlyn closed the honey jar. ‘Excellent.’
Kerr chuckled again. ‘I’ll see you guys later.’ With that, he left.
Ripper remained in the consultation room, watching as his witch added lavender to her potion. Green and moldy. She’d turned CeCe’s hair green and moldy while also providing a way to reverse it that would gall the female wolf.
God, she was mean. Seriously mean, but in the best way. It was one of the many, many things that he liked about her. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about the spell?’
She waved her hand at the cauldron, and the brew ceased bubbling. ‘You would have done what you did just then – asked me to undo it. I would have said no. You would have nagged me. We would have gone round and round in circles with neither of us willing to back down.’
‘So? There’s a lot to be said for angry sex.’
She chuckled. ‘I suppose we would have worked it off in bed.’
Ripper crossed to her. ‘Like I said last night, I see you. But you still often manage to surprise me.’
She searched his gaze. ‘You’re not mad at me?’
‘No. I’d have done a fuck of a lot worse to anyone who territorially marked something of yours and professed to love you.’ They would have been pissing blood for at least a week. ‘I’m kind of scared of what you’ll do to me if I ever upset you.’
‘Aw, you don’t need to be afraid of me.’
‘Oh yes, I do.’
Her lips curved. ‘Definitely not all brawn.’