Chapter Two
Wanda’s Witchery was an upscale boutique plopped right in the middle of Main Street, almost directly across from my shop.
It was a two-story affair with black siding and a neon sign that proclaimed itself open for anyone unlucky enough to catch the eye-searing display head-on. As usual, Wanda had drawn the heavy black curtains so the outfits on her mannequins popped against the dark background.
It was all very... Wanda. Dark, a little foreboding, and a lot exciting.
The pieces on display today were lighter pastels in deference to the season and the current fashion trends.
Not that Wanda liked pastels. She didn’t.
Her colors were more towards wine red, black, charcoal grey, and the occasional midnight blue.
I’d never suspected I’d find a soft shade in Wanda’s store, but she’d proved me wrong.
Hmm, I supposed my advice that she should carry an array of colors had finally beaten down the gates of her stubbornness.
But just as much as she’d traded in a little of her darkness for something lighter, I’d done the same—in reverse.
There was a darkness in me that had never been there before—completely and totally owing to my connection to the coven and to Wanda.
Now, we’d both become something unrecognizable to our former selves.
Something better, I hoped.
A chime went off somewhere further in the store.
Wanda had recently traded a traditional bell for something Henner rigged up for her as a birthday present.
She wouldn’t confirm or deny if she had a clap light or not.
And even though I’d tried to clap to turn something on or off in the store, the magic wouldn’t reply to me, since Henner had designed it for Wanda and Wanda only.
Two people were milling in the shop when the door slid closed behind us.
The first man was simply enormous. He reminded me so viscerally of my sasquatch ex, Roy, that I immediately began sizing him up to categorize what kind of bigfoot he was.
It was the hair that made me pause. I’d met a lot of sasquatches, thanks to a mishap with a lonely succubus and a love potion.
But that was another story for another time.
The point was: sasquatches all tended toward fur the color of earth tones.
But this man’s hair was crimson. Not the gingery shade of human hair.
It was the color of freshly spilled blood—literally.
The contrast was as shocking as blood on snow. I shivered before I could stop myself.
The man noted my reaction with a small smile before raising his gaze from the rack to me. His eyes were piercing. Not cold, per se, but definitely predatory. Yep. Definitely not a sasquatch. Roy could be beastly, but he’d never sized me up like I was prey before.
The woman browsing near the door was easy to miss.
She was smaller than me, and I wasn’t exactly on the tall side of the average height curve.
I was used to looking up to most of my friends.
And this woman was even shorter than I was.
Not only that, but where the man was striking in his strange appearance, this woman was just..
. cute. But I was pretty sure she’d curse me for thinking as much, because I was fairly sure I knew what she was.
Between the dark hair and the nimbus of power at her fingertips, she had to be a witch. And witches didn’t do the word ‘cute’.
“Poppy, I’d like you to meet Violetta De Leon and Smith. They’re looking for an alchemist to do a job for them.” Wanda turned with a magnanimous smile and addressed the adorably short witch with deference. “And this is Poppy Morton, the expert I told you about.”
I had to fight not to let my mouth drop open.
Expert? Wanda was trying to sell me to these two as some kind of expert alchemist?
Was she insane? Did she really think I could just what—fake it until I made it?
That was a gig most witches could pull off, but I was a gypsy—I didn’t have the power of a witch.
Not to mention that I was a novice alchemist at best, not a flipping expert!
“I wouldn’t exactly go that far...” I began weakly, shaking my head. The last thing I wanted to do was give them the wrong impression. Wanda and the coven might have been my allies, but this witch? She was already looking at me with suspicion.
Wanda clapped me on the back with a little more force than necessary. “Because she’s modest. Believe me, you won’t regret coming to Poppy. She’s got a knack for solving problems.”
I was torn between the desire to smack Wanda and hug her.
Compliments were rare things from my best friend.
Most people would have to wrench a kind word from her cold, dead hands.
She wasn’t exactly what one would call ‘approachable’ or ‘kind’.
And yet, she thought I was worth consulting.
.. Not only that, but she’d had a point in my shop—it was a good idea that I experiment with these alchemist powers far away from the farmhouse.
And if this Smith person could help me with building a new place in which to work…
well, it would be worth it. I figured I should at least hear them out, considering what I could gain in return.
“So,” I began again, clearing my throat. “What seems to be the problem? I mean… I’d love to help if I can.”
“For a fee, of course,” Wanda added, shooting me a look, before turning her expression back to our guests. “Poppy’s in the market for an affordable… laboratory.”
“Well, a laboratory might be a bit of a stretch. I just need—’
“—a laboratory,” Wanda finished for me, smiling sweetly at Smith. “I think it’s fair if you want her to do alchemy for you.”
Smith nodded as though he’d been expecting me to say something exactly of the sort. “Of course. Send over the relevant details, and I’m sure we can work something out that satisfies both parties.”
Relief, sudden and pure, rushed through me. Tension I hadn’t realized I was holding released, and I took a deep breath.
“Thank you. It’ll be a relief to have a private place to work.”
Private and safe. Maybe my worries about the integrity of my kitchen had been premature.
Then again, there was every chance I could blow the roof of my new lab right into my living room anyway.
Well, I supposed it depended on where said lab was built.
Maybe I’d ask Smith to position it on the far end of the property.
Violetta gave me a sideways glance, lips pursed. She’d been largely silent throughout the conversation, eyes glued unerringly to my face.
“What happened to your old lab?” she asked.
My heart sank. I knew the information she was fishing for, and I didn’t like it—what was more, I didn’t imagine Wanda would like it either. Sure, I could have lied. Could have told Violetta that I’d had some spectacular magical accident that had destroyed my current work space but...
“I don’t have one at the moment,” I said quietly. “I’m just… working from my kitchen.”
“Oh,” Violetta answered, looking at Smith.
I cleared my throat, figuring in this case honesty was the best policy. “Regardless of what Wanda’s trying to sell you, I’m not a master alchemist. If you’re looking for someone who’s been practicing for a long time, you’d want to contact my grandmother.”
“You are an alchemist though?” Violetta double checked.
“Yes, she is,” Wanda answered before I could. “She’s just very… humble.” She looked at me and widened her eyes when she said the word.
But I wanted to make sure they understood what they were getting themselves into. “I’m currently training from my grandmother’s… books to find out more about my own abilities. I’d say I’m an alchemist-in-training. If you don’t want to work with a novice, I’d understand.”
I cringed, holding my breath as I waited for the pointed fingers and ‘I told you so-s’.
Though, to my surprise, they weren’t quick to come.
Violetta and Smith exchanged a glance that was loaded with meaning.
I couldn’t tell what kind of silent thought passed between them, but when she faced forward again, she shrugged.
“At least you’re honest. I can appreciate that.” She then gave Wanda a look to which Wanda just shrugged. Then Violetta’s attention was back on me. “We’ll agree to your terms as long as you promise to do your best. It’s all we can ask from you.”
I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, leaning more firmly against the rack of clothing I’d been subconsciously using to steady myself. I definitely needed to take some zest potion before I opened the store back up again.
“So, um...” I began with an uncertain glance at Wanda. “What seems to be the problem?”
Smith shifted his weight uncomfortably, settling many muscles rippling, even while he was at rest. He reminded me of Roy in that way—both built for strength and speed, and the evidence was all over Smith’s body—the muscles, the height, the breadth of his shoulders.
I’d once seen Roy’s muscles best a work shirt in under thirty seconds flat.
Smith must have been something massive in his beast form.
And as to that question, I was still unsure just what he was.
“It’s my niece,” he said at last. “She unfortunately passed recently and… it’s dragon tradition to transform the ashes of our dead into… gemstones or ingots or some form of treasure.” He cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, I don’t have any access to an alchemist who could perform such a feat.”
“A dragon, you said?” I asked, my brain having glommed onto only that word from everything he’d just said.
“Right.”
I looked at Wanda. She’d conveniently left that part out.
“A dragon?” I repeated.
Smith smiled tightly. “Yes, a dragon. I’m one too. A different breed than my niece, but still probably something close to what you’re imagining.”
Well, that made a hell of a lot of sense, now that I looked at him again.
“I thought dragons were, uh, supposed to be invulnerable?” I asked, wondering what the situation was with his niece.
Not that I’d gotten past the fact that Smith was a dragon.
I hadn’t. But I figured it was probably rude just to stand there, staring at him and saying nothing while my brain tried to process.
He rolled a shoulder in a shrug. “Hard to kill but certainly not immune to harm. The condition my niece had was the result of a heritable curse. She got it from her mother, and her mother got it from her grandmother. And so on and so on.” He took a breath as the weight of what he was expecting me to do finally settled on my shoulders. Like an anvil.
“And… you’re the first alchemist I’ve met who’s willing to work with monsters,” Smith continued. “So how about it? If I can deliver you a lab, can you make me a gemstone?”
There was only one good answer to that.
“I can try.”