Chapter 25 #2
Charissa nodded. “Yes. They always end up at the bottom of my list because I prefer to work on the more complex ones. I could hire you as a contractor to make the potions. You can build a reputation with my customers, and we can slowly transition them to working directly with you. If you hustle hard, I bet you could turn it into a full-time job within the year. And as your magic grows, you can start trying more complex potions.”
“You’d do that for me?” Cece asked.
Charissa smiled at her. “Of course, I would. I would have approached you about this earlier, but Elora was clear about how much you loved your job at the greenhouse.”
“I do - did - love it, but making potions for a living would be just as fulfilling,” Cece said.
“Then let’s make this happen,” Charissa said. “I can give you a list of potions I need. How does eighty per potion, plus a ten percent discount on supplies, sound?”
Cece blinked at her. “That sounds amazing, but also maybe too much?”
“Not at all,” Charissa said. “The going rate for folk magic potions has steadily risen over the last few years. Mostly because of a rash of apprentice witches who charge low but make shitty potions.”
“Then let’s do this,” Cece said.
“Perfect!” Charissa checked her watch. “Can you give me ten minutes to get the list together?”
“Of course. I have a few supplies I need to pick up for the potions I’m making for Monroe,” Cece said.
“Great, meet me at the counter in ten minutes,” Charissa said.
She walked away, and Cece glanced at Briggs, whose attention was still being held hostage by Agatha.
Grinning, Cece headed toward the aisle farthest from the door.
It had candles, crystals and stones, and spell kits, and she was getting low on candles.
She’d need at least another dozen now that she was making potions for both Charissa and Monroe.
She could hear the murmur of other customers in the adjacent aisles, but a quick peek down the candle aisle confirmed it was empty.
There was only one way in and out of the aisle, and with another peek behind her, Cece walked down the aisle to the candles.
She picked out a few tapered candles before reaching for her favourite pillar candles.
She piled them in one arm, bracing them against her body as she reached for a few more.
She really should have grabbed a basket.
She muttered a curse when a candle rolled off her arm and onto the floor.
It rolled down the aisle, and Cece chased after it, pulling up short when the candle came to a stop against the toe of a black dress shoe.
She stared at the man in front of her. He wore a charcoal suit with a blue checkered tie and a burgundy coloured warlock’s robe tied loosely at his throat.
He reached down and snagged the candle from the floor and held it out to her.
He was short and slender with thick silver hair in a bun, and kind eyes.
Laugh lines crinkled at the corners as he smiled at her and held out the candle.
He looked vaguely familiar, but Cece couldn’t place where she might have seen him before.
She glanced behind her at the only entrance to the aisle before turning to give the warlock a puzzled look. “The aisle was empty. You didn’t walk past me. I would have seen you. How did you -”
“You have his eyes,” the man said. His voice was deep with a Spanish accent.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“His eyes and,” the man’s gaze traveled over her hair, a soft warmth in his amber eyes, “the same gold coloured hair. You’re so beautiful, and I am so happy to finally meet you, Nietita.”
Cece dropped her candles, and they hit the floor with a muffled thump. She took a step back, and the man said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, Cecelia.”
“Who are you?” she asked. “How do you know my name?”
He hesitated before giving her a tentative smile. “I’m your grandfather.”
The air rushed out of her lungs in a gasping wheeze. She shouted for Briggs, or at least she tried to, but all that came out was another wheeze that only slightly resembled Briggs’s name.
Adrenaline was hitting her system, and her magic responded, flickering to life and rushing through her veins as she studied the man.
Now, she knew where she’d seen him before.
The WWC website, in particular, the pictures of the High Council members that she’d carefully perused when researching her father’s family.
Her grandfather took a step toward her. “My name is Werner. I know this is a shock, but you’re my granddaughter. Your father -”
“Stay away from me,” Cece wheezed as she took another step back.
Werner cocked his head, his gaze flicking to the green light glowing in Cece’s hands. “Are you afraid of me? Please don’t be. I would never hurt you, Nietita. I wanted to meet you with the hope that we could perhaps have a relationship. I didn’t know you existed until recently and -”
“Briggs!” Cece’s voice had finally decided to cooperate.
“Who’s Briggs?” Werner asked.
“I am,” Briggs growled as he stalked into the aisle and stepped past Cece, his giant body towering over Werner’s. “And you’re scaring my mate, old man.”
“You have a mate?” Werner said to Cece. “I didn’t realize. My research didn’t -”
“Who the fuck are you?” Briggs snarled.
“I’m her grandfather,” Werner said. “And I’d like to talk to Cecelia.”
Briggs growled again, a terrifying sound that rumbled from his chest and made Cece want to flee despite knowing Briggs would never hurt her. He was starting to shift, his body swelling as white fur sprouted from his skin.
Her grandfather’s hands glowed a bright red, and he took a few steps back but stared calmly enough at Briggs. “You’re making a mistake, shifter.”
“You made a mistake when you tried to hurt my mate,” Briggs growled.
“I haven’t tried to hurt her,” Werner said. “And if you don’t back off, you’ll regret it.”
Briggs bared his fangs at him. “I’m going to tear you open and eat your liver, warlock.”
“You can try,” Werner said, his voice still calm.
Cece, her magic sparking and pulsing in her veins, took a step forward. Her mind buzzed with what Werner had said to her. He would never hurt her. He just wanted to meet her.
Although she had no way of knowing this to be true, some instinctive part of her believed him. Maybe it was the warmth in his gaze when he’d looked at her. The affection in his voice when he called her nietita.
She took a deep breath, willing her magic to calm down. “Briggs, wait.”
Werner’s gaze turned to her, forcing another growl from Briggs’s throat. “Tell your mate to stop, Cecelia. I have no desire to hurt him.”
Briggs laughed, the sound more terrifying than humorous. “The floor will be drenched in your blood when I’m done with you.”
Werner sighed, a sound of exasperation with no hint of fear. “Remember, you’re making me do this, shifter.”
He raised his hands, the red glowing even brighter, and Cece’s magic flared to life.
Her only thought to protect Briggs, she muttered an incantation, and green light shot from her hands to hit Werner squarely in the chest. It did nothing more than knock him back a step, and he blinked at her before a soft smile crossed his face.
“Your magic is not very strong, Nietita, but that is okay. I will help you be the witch you were meant to be.”
She stared at him, at the love she could practically see radiating from his face, and something in her chest twisted tight.
When Briggs started forward, she said, “Briggs, no.”
He glanced at her over his shoulder, his eyes a dark brown and his face more bear than human now. His voice so thick and garbled, she could barely understand him, he said, “My mate, he tried to kill you.”
Holding his gaze, she echoed his words from the other night to him. “Honey, I want you to stop.”
He hesitated, and she could almost see his bear retreating and a tiny bit of human Briggs - her Briggs - return. “My mate…”
“He won’t hurt me. Please trust me.” She paused. “Trust your mate.”