Chapter 3 #2
“Love can be the greatest cure or curse – it just depends on who’s wielding it.
” Grams sighed, looking through her collection of potions on the shelves behind the till.
“This potion should help repel Ian. It shouldn’t have any side effects with short-term use, and since he’s a born vampire and young, his sense of smell won’t be developed enough to figure out what you’ve ingested.
He won’t know why he doesn’t want to feed from you; think of it as a predator-repellent. ”
Grams offered Faye the small vial, and she didn’t hesitate to take it.
“Will he be able to taste it if he does bite me?” she asked, worried. “I don’t want him to think I’m intentionally keeping him away from me or guess that I’ve come to you for help.”
“No, he won’t taste it. It’s a small dose of ragwort, a natural repellent, and some other protective herbs that will dull his desire to feed from you.”
Faye drank the sweet, earthy-smelling potion and winced. “Tastes like dirt.” She chased it with a gulp of rose tea to wash away the bitter aftertaste. “But if it keeps me from death’s door, the more, the merrier.”
Grams patted her hand. “Death will have to wait a bit longer for you if I’ve anything to say about it.
” She returned behind the counter. “However, you need some external protection as well.” She picked up a faded green leather grimoire and flipped through the pages.
It was a Hawthorne grimoire, Faye noticed from the cursive H engraved in the leather.
“Like what?” she asked, glancing at the worn, old pages. To her magless eyes, it just looked like a mess of letters and symbols. Only those from the Hawthorne family could read it.
“We can put some protective warding on the café to protect you from vampires,” Grams suggested, running her fingers over the pages.
“I don’t want my customers to think I’m discriminating against them. Plenty of vampires come by before dawn to get their morning coffee while I prep. It’s why we open so early, and I don’t want to break with Mrs Stoker’s tradition. They don’t deserve to be barred because of Ian.”
“If I remember correctly, a staircase separates the apartment from the kitchen? We can put the warding on the stairs, so you’ll be safe if Ian gets inside,” Grams suggested.
“I hadn’t thought about protecting myself once I got away. Maybe naively, I believed that, with Foxford’s laws, Ian wouldn’t dare come after me,” Faye admitted.
“Better to be safe than sorry,” Grams said, looking through the pages with a frown. “Unfortunately, I don’t think the Hawthorne grimoires have anything creature-specific.”
“What about another one?” Faye asked, thinking of Lucy. She ran the Foxford Library, which had a large archive of grimoires. But given Lucy’s newlywed status and freshly inherited seat as High Priestess, Faye didn’t want to bother her friend with her troubles.
“Gwendoline Matherson helped with some new restrictive warding on the tombs beneath the library; she might be able to help. The warding isn’t creature-specific, but targets those who have ill intentions.
Such warding is only meant for official buildings, to prevent discrimination.
Still, the coven will make an exception for you. ”
The Mathersons had a questionable past. They had turned away from dark magic generations ago, but their history still haunted them.
“If we use Matherson warding, I’ll need Benedict or Gwendoline to place them, and if we involve Benedict, Lucy will get involved too,” Faye pointed out. “I don’t want to burden her with this. They’ve already done so much for me.”
“Okay, we won’t involve them for now. We still have some time to figure this out. I’ll see if I can find another alternative. I don’t want to pry, but do you need healing?” Grams asked softly, as though she could sense Faye’s lingering pain.
Faye always wore long sleeves and trousers, even on hot days. At least keeping her hair short meant she didn’t need to wear turtlenecks anymore – a small relief, since they made her feel suffocated.
She couldn’t pretend any more. “Usually Ian gives me some of his blood to heal me before I pass out, but this was the first time he just left me,” she said quietly.
With only death to comfort me. Leaving out the last part, she showed Grams the ugly bite wound on her ankle.
She’d worn loose trousers to avoid rubbing the raw skin.
Grams’s small gasp made her wince, reminding her how bad it was.
“That needs healing before infection sets in,” Grams said, hurrying away from the table to rifle beneath the ancient till. Faye wondered if she was hiding her upset reaction.
“Anything you can give me to help with the pain is fine,” she said, trying not to get emotional. This was her first time showing her wounds to anyone. It felt like she was exposing a part of her soul.
“Drink this. It contains beetroot, goji berries and spinach. The spell I used while brewing it will help you heal quicker,” Grams said, pouring a pale pink liquid into Faye’s cup of rose tea.
Grams was the best healer in town, and Faye was grateful for her help. She raised the warm teacup to her lips, enjoying the delicious fruity aroma. After two eager gulps, the delicate skin around her ankle healed completely, with no scar left behind.
“That’s much better,” Grams said, giving Faye a gentle hug.
It took every ounce of her growing strength not to burst into tears.
“Grams? Why is the shop closed?”
Peter Matherson walked in like he owned the place, a habit all Mathersons had. Superior, intelligent, and shockingly handsome, he was Gwendoline’s younger son and the resident Grim Reaper of Foxford.
Faye quickly pulled down her trouser leg.
The last time she had seen Peter, she had picked him and Benedict up from the side of the road on her way back from Willow Valley with ingredients for the café.
She didn’t know what they had been up to in the woods to end up covered in mud, but she figured it was best to remain ignorant.
The Matherson sons had a knack for finding trouble, or it them.
“Just the person I wanted to see,” Grams said, getting up from the table to greet him. He was so much taller than the short, stout woman that he had to bend over into her embrace.
Peter met Faye’s eyes over Gram’s shoulder, catching her staring. She had been lost in thought, thinking how twice in twenty-four hours she had found herself in death’s presence.
“You should be delighted to know that I found the Himalayan blue poppies you requested. I had to bribe another Reaper for his soul collection on Everest to get there. This is the last time, so use them sparingly. I might be dead, but I can still feel the cold.” Shivering, Peter produced a clear bag packed with the rare blue flower that only bloomed at high altitudes.
Faye shuddered at the thought of him collecting souls.
She couldn’t imagine having such a macabre job. Then again, it wasn’t his choice.
“Sorry, I didn’t realise you had company,” he added, staring at Faye like she was the ghost.
Technically, Grim Reapers were ghosts that took physical form.
Even though he had died at sixteen, Peter had aged like the rest of them as the years passed.
Faye still remembered the scrawny teenager she’d gone to school with, the one who used to skip class and trail after his brother.
Now, Peter had grown into himself. He was probably taller than his brother, Benedict, with the same broad build, but lighter hair and eyes.
He had a devious smile that promised heartbreak, but the kind that might be worth it.
“We were just finishing up,” Faye said, jumping up a little too quickly, not wanting to keep Grams from business. She didn’t know why she was suddenly so nervous around him. Peter often came by the café, but didn’t say much when he stopped in.
“Don’t be silly! Stay where you are, Faye,” Grams said, putting her at ease.
“Thank you for the flowers, Peter. I appreciate the effort. I’ve found a potion in an old Tibetan medicine journal and want to experiment with the poppies’ healing potential.
” Grams opened the bag excitedly, smelling the flowers.
“The town gets nervous when you start experimenting,” Peter teased.
Faye stifled a laugh. Gram’s experiments had a habit of going haywire. The tarot shop had been rebuilt more than a few times over the decades.
“Cheeky – and for that comment, you owe me another favour,” Grams said, taking the bag into the kitchen.
“As always, I’m forever at your service.
What can I do to help you this time?” Peter said with a broad grin.
Faye caught him glancing at her again and realized she was still staring.
His smile faltered, and she looked away, worried she had offended him.
Unlike Benedict, who only smiled around Lucy, Peter was a playful free spirit.
“Do you still recall the Matherson wardings from your training?” Grams asked, returning.
Faye stared at her, wide-eyed. She had asked Grams not to involve Benedict and Lucinda in her escape plan, but she had said nothing about Peter. Since he was only in Foxford to collect souls, she hadn’t considered him an option. But he was still a Matherson, after all.
“Wardings? Sure.” Peter shrugged. “My mother would never forgive me if I forgot her teachings.” Gwendoline was a fierce and brilliant witch who was also a coven member. “Why?”
“I need your help with some protective and repellent wards.”
“As part of my sentencing, I’m not allowed to use magic as a Reaper. The consequences could be severe,” he explained, his voice tinged with caution.
“This wouldn’t be using magic, per se. You’re only drawing a few wards to keep out vampires,” Grams reasoned.
“If he can’t do it, please don’t force him,” Faye interrupted, not wanting him to get into trouble.
“I can do it. When have rules ever got in my way?” Peter winked.
“Good! Then you’ll help Faye at the café.” Grams clapped her hands.
Peter frowned. “Stoker’s Café? Is someone giving you trouble?”
“You’ve no idea,” Faye muttered.
Peter’s jaw clenched.
“I’m moving in above Stoker’s. I need to put some protections on the staircase that leads to the apartment,” she told him, sure he had heard about her situation from town gossip. He was dead, not deaf.
“I’ve time now,” Peter said eagerly.
Faye wanted to jump for joy. She hadn’t expected him to want to help so urgently, but the sooner, the better for her.
“Perfect. I’ve got to head over soon to open. I can pay you in coffee and pastries?” she offered.
“I couldn’t ask for anything more.” He turned to Grams. “Are you okay if I whisk her away?”
“Please go!” Grams waved them off. “I’ve another reading soon, and I need to prepare.”
“Thank you for everything,” Faye said, turning back to wrap her arms around Grams.
“Don’t mention it. We’re family,” Grams whispered. “I’m always here, and please come by Hawthorne House whenever you like. You always have a home with us.”
Faye released her before she completely broke down. Following Peter out of the shop, she suddenly felt her hands shaking, not with fear, but with excitement. For the first time in years, she felt an overwhelming sense of hope.