Dragon’s Blood (Haven Hollow #45)

Chapter One

Dragon’s Blood

I eyed the lit candle at the corner of the cash wrap, absolutely sure it was conspiring to singe off my eyebrows.

Okay, maybe that was overstating it just a bit, but the candle flame was definitely burning with more enthusiasm than I was used to.

It flared at odd moments, whipping this way and that, burning more brightly than it had a right to.

Maybe that was what I got for accepting a candle from Wanda’s closet.

She’d offered me an array of them for resale when she’d done her last spring cleaning.

Okay, she’d made Lorcan do the spring cleaning while she sipped a cocktail, but the sentiment had been nice all the same.

Now I was wondering if I’d been a fool to light one of them inside my shop.

The magic on it simply wasn’t right, and I had a bad feeling Wanda might have spilled one of her disastrous potion experiments on it before promptly stuffing it into a closet, forgetting about it until it blew up in my face.

It didn’t help that I was also dragging, with several more hours to go.

It was my own fault for reading into the wee hours, but it felt irresponsible not to, now that I was officially an alchemist. The journals my grandmother had shipped to my front door were my only instruction manual on handling the powers coming online at frightening speed.

I’d already managed to turn a bottle of bleach into an accelerant on accident.

I shuddered to think what I could do if I actually applied myself.

God, even calling myself ‘alchemist’ felt silly.

It made me think of a mad scientist locked in a lab, feverishly trying to turn lead into gold.

I wasn’t even sure if that cliché was possible—if you actually could turn lead into gold.

And even if there were some way to achieve it, there was probably some arcane code that forbade it.

Having gold on hand would have been just as life-changing in the Middle Ages as it was today.

It would definitely solve any financial problems I ran into.

Though with my luck, I’d run afoul of a cabal of ancient alchemists and have to go on the run.

That was the real problem. I just didn’t know what this ability entailed, and being in the dark scared me.

I was so muddled with worry and exhaustion that I must have missed the tinkle of the bell above my door. The only reason I did notice someone was in my shop was when they cleared their throat and muttered an impatient, “Poppy?”

My gaze snapped up in surprise, and I had to bite back a yelp of surprise. There was a witch in my shop. A very familiar, inhumanly gorgeous witch who just happened to be my best friend. I still had no idea how we’d managed it since we were such polar opposites.

Wanda was a middle-aged witch who’d moved into Haven Hollow after being booted from her last coven.

Through a series of mishaps, she’d wound up with a new coven of her own and a vampire boyfriend she couldn’t shake—well, now husband.

The funny thing was that she managed to make herself look good the entire time she was doing it.

Wanda had pulled her inky hair into a high ponytail today, keeping it out of her way as she worked.

It looked natural and stylish paired with the athleisure wear she’d donned this morning.

Apparently, Taliyah was serious about roping Maverick and his whole crew into regular exercise.

Cardio was necessary when you were chasing or being chased by something that wanted to eat your face off.

Unfortunately, we’d gained enough enemies in the interim that the precaution was probably necessary.

I just hoped Taliyah skipped me when leg day rolled around. I was more of a yoga kind of girl.

Wanda sashayed forward on the wedge heels she’d paired with the ensemble.

The wedges were her own defiant middle finger to the tyrannical faerie princess trying to force us into an exercise program.

Yes, Wanda had attended the workout class, but no way was she going to sweat.

That was Wanda for you, always flouting the rules where she could.

“Did I scare you?” she asked.

“No,” I answered automatically. The word came out as a squeak, thoroughly pulling the rug out from under my lie.

Wanda at least had the grace not to tease me for the pathetic deception.

This time. Instead, she closed the distance between us and leaned one rounded hip against my front counter, giving me a once-over.

The sensation of phantom fingers brushing my aura was ticklish and made me squirm.

I would have snapped at her to stop it if she weren’t likely to do it harder, just to spite me.

“Ah, I see. You’re tired. Late night with your lover, Poppy? You’re beginning to be as bad as me.”

The wicked smile she flashed me made me nervous, because I was sure it would be followed with a demand to disclose all the dirty details of my latest tryst with my British boyfriend, Andre.

Worse, she might demand the details at the next Black Cat Cocktail Club.

As far as the girls were concerned, they’d never met a penis they didn’t want a report on.

“I was up late, yes,” I started, giving her a frown. “But not with Andre. With my grandmother, actually.”

“Gross.”

I smacked her bicep harder than I meant to. Wanda’s lip actually jutted into a pout, and she rubbed the skin of her arm with a reproachful look.

“Ow!”

“Can you be serious for once?”

“I could be serious if I understood what you were trying to tell me.”

I frowned at her again. Harder this time. “I was up late reading the journals my grandmother gave me.”

“Oh.” A pause. “I was hoping for an Andre sex story.”

“I know you were. Sorry to disappoint.”

She sighed. “It’s okay.” Another pause. “So, what are you reading your grandmother’s book for?”

“It’s a journal,” I corrected. “Or maybe more of a diary. And, at the moment, I’m trying to sort out what’s relevant and what’s not. I don’t need to know about the neighbor’s love affair; I need to know how to control my powers.”

“I’d like to know about the neighbor’s love affair.”

“Actually, I don’t think you would.” I gave her a look that said from what I could tell from the diary, the neighbor didn’t exactly sound like a catch.

“Okay, so you’re trying to figure out how to control your powers?” Wanda repeated.

Or how to get rid of them entirely. I felt like I was juggling on a tightrope, but someone had replaced my bowling pins with nitroglycerin. I was doomed to burn down the entire circus.

“Yeah.”

Some of Wanda’s good humor evaporated as she really took me in. The ticklish feel of her fingers all over my aura was back, and this time I put up with it. She wasn’t trying to be irritating. Not really. She was just naturally nosy and concerned.

“Is it really bothering you that much?”

I shrugged, not meeting her eyes. The truth was that this alchemist stuff did bother me.

I wasn’t as bad at adapting to change as some of the witches I’d met, but I wasn’t great at it either.

I thought I was getting a handle on this new power level, only to learn that I’d only been going through the magical equivalent of puberty.

The too-powerful elixirs I’d been making were me tripping over my big, clumsy puppy paws before I grew into them.

Now I was a big dog, and I had no idea what to do with myself.

Wanda seized my chin with her usual lack of consideration for personal boundaries.

I could have yanked my face down and away, but I didn’t want to.

Not really. Wanda was my best friend. If I was going to tell anyone my troubles, it would be this pushy witch.

And that was mostly because she’d force me. Wanda had a way about her…

Her expression softened when she caught sight of my face. “It’s bothering you. Why?”

I shrugged again. I felt like I’d been doing that a lot lately.

Throwing my hands up in frustration and confusion as the world continued to take drastic turns all around me.

I felt slow—like I couldn’t keep up. I was falling behind where my abilities were concerned and I was worried it might cost the people I loved.

“You know the reason,” she insisted. “Talk to me, Poppy, or I swear I will hex you.”

It was an empty threat. Wanda never cursed me, even when she threatened to. I knew she had the power, just not the spite to throw a spell my way. It was her way of smacking me upside the head and telling me to stop being a dummy. She was like a masochistic therapist.

“I just feel like… like I don’t know who I am anymore,” I confessed, sinking down into the chair I kept behind the counter.

I rarely sat in it, too busy bustling around the store helping my customers or restocking products or sweeping or dusting or…

the list went on. But today was an unusually slow day, and I’d been spending too much time alone with my thoughts.

“You’re Poppy,” Wanda said, letting go of me easily. “You’re Finn’s mom and my best friend. That’s who you are. Don’t worry about the rest of it.”

A small, warm feeling blossomed in my chest at the easy way she said what she just had.

Wanda had changed a lot since coming to the Hollow, and not all of it was due to her relationship with Lorcan.

I liked to think I’d sanded off some of her rough edges too.

In this case, though, she was underselling the problem.

“That’s what I’m scared of. This alchemy thing is... well, it’s dangerous, Wanda. I set something on fire without meaning to. What if I do it again, this time at home? I could hurt Finn or Andre. I’d never forgive myself if that happened or if I burned our house down.”

Wanda rolled her eyes. “If you burn down your house, you can live in mine. No one in this Hollow is going to let you or your son live on the street, Poppy. Honestly, you’d have your pick of monsters to stay with—everyone loves you here.

You know that. You’ve more than earned our support. You’re like the Giving Tree, Poppy.”

The corners of my eyes burned, and I blinked the tears back furiously. I didn’t want to cry in front of Wanda. She’d gotten past the point where she’d tease me for it, but I still didn’t relish the thought. The witches and their stoicism were beginning to rub off on me.

“There’s a simpler solution, you know?”

“There is?” She nodded. “What is it?” I asked, trying and failing to hide a sniffle.

She shrugged like the answer was obvious. “You get a separate space to brew your potions. If you have an accident, only you get hurt. I’d like to avoid that personally, but I can’t stop you if you want to experiment.”

“Hmm.” It wasn’t a half bad idea.

“And on that note, I was actually coming over here to talk to you about my newest customers.” I gave her a quizzical look. “They wanted my opinion of you before they visited your store. I told them I’d bring you over.”

“Oh.” I thought it strange that Wanda was making such a fuss about her customers. Usually, she couldn’t be bothered with them at best and wanted to hex them at worst.

She nodded. “I wasn’t just waltzing over for the hell of it.”

“This time,” I said with a laugh. But the words came out half-strangled and a bit sad, instead of amused.

Wanda flicked my ear. It stung, but earned her an actual laugh. She’d certainly mellowed if I only got a thump on the head for my sass. There was a time when any backtalk would have earned anyone else an itching hex. Wanda watched my face, losing the battle with her own smile.

“There, that’s the Poppy I know. Come on over. I’ve got something that will help your anxiety.”

I gave her a look. “I don’t think I should be drinking on the job. Maybe tonight.”

Wanda aimed a dirty look down her nose. “If I wanted to ply you with alcohol, I’d throw a party. What I have is better.”

“Better than a party?” She nodded. “And what’s that?”

“A solution to your problem.”

“I’m not in the mood to try on outfits, Wanda. I’ve got stuff that needs to be done here.”

“I’m not talking about trying on clothes,” she glared. “I’m talking about the people who are sitting in my back room right now.” I gave her the confused frown her explanation deserved. “They are refugees from Misty Hollow.”

That sobered me right up. Not so long ago, we’d had an influx of supernatural citizens from our sister Hollow in Louisiana.

I wasn’t clear on the finer points of what happened to the Hollow—just that it no longer existed and the circumstances hadn’t been good.

Most of them seemed reluctant to talk about it, and I didn’t push.

I knew people had died, and that Fox had been captured and tortured as a result.

It was enough to know that the catastrophe had been costly for all of them.

“Okay, but I don’t see how your customers, refugees or not, are the answer to my problem.”

“Because,” Wanda said testily. “They were a part of the crew that was building the Hollow down in Louisiana. They started as construction workers.”

“Okay,” I said, still not understanding her point.

Wanda sighed out her exasperation. “Fix their problem, and I bet you can earn yourself a shiny new workplace. Fireproof, even. Is that worth a little of your time? Or do you want to sit here and sulk all day?”

Well, there was really only one answer I could give her.

“Gimme a second to close up shop. I’ll be right over.”