Chapter Four
Freaky alchemist powers coming online? Check. A dragon in need of a miracle? Also check. It was enough to drive a woman to drink.
That was exactly why I’d called an emergency session of the Black Cat Cocktail Club to be held at half-past nine.
Which was in a couple hours’ time. Finn glanced up from his homework occasionally as I bustled around the kitchen, getting appetizers ready, but for the most part, he kept his head over his math homework.
His brows were scrunched so tightly, I could have grated cheese over the craggy planes.
“Why the hell do I need to know how to calculate the vertex of a parabola?”
“Finn,” I started.
“Seriously, Mom,” he started with a yawn, discreetly rubbing one eye. “Hell isn’t a bad word. And I’m sixteen, so I should pretty much be able to say whatever words I want.”
“Hell isn’t a nice word,” I corrected. “And sixteen isn’t an adult, so you can’t say whatever you want. Even to your math homework.”
He eyed me with extreme skepticism for a moment before dropping his eyes back to the hell that was algebra.
“Is that your last problem?”
He nodded. “Andre helped me with the rest before he left for his magic show.”
My heart beat a little faster at the mention of Andre.
My boyfriend. Ahem, my very hot, very British, very magical boyfriend, with whom I was now sharing a bed and a bathroom.
Andre hadn’t officially moved in, but he had a drawer of his things here.
It was more serious than I’d been with anyone in a long time.
It felt so right with Andre, which had made me instantly distrust the feeling at first. I’d always attracted a sub-optimal kind of man before.
So much so that I wondered if someone had cursed me, making me a loser magnet.
Then a string of good men had come into my life.
Roy was first. And though our relationship had been brief, it had been intense and now he’d turned into my friendly ex.
Then there had been Marty, my very close friend turned boyfriend turned back to friends.
And now Andre. The three of them had convinced me that whatever had been going on in my love life couldn’t have been due to any flaw of mine. That, or whoever had hexed me had died.
Anyway, it turned out that Andre and I were soulmates.
Not in the cheesy Hallmark movie kind of way.
No, it was more tangible than that, more magical.
We were bound together, fated to meet and fall in love.
It would have been romantic if it weren’t so anxiety inducing at times.
Still, I was beyond happy with him in my life, even if our relationship came with its own flavor of crazy.
Yes, I had a ton to be grateful for: an amazing boyfriend and an amazing son, both of whom I loved very much.
Though I knew the hugs and I love yous from Finn were numbered, if not already extinct. Finn was sixteen now, which meant his independence was taking precedence. And that was just as it was supposed to be. But it didn’t make it any easier.
Sounds from the open window drew Finn’s attention to the backyard for a brief instant.
I followed his gaze to find the small dots that were Smith and Violetta milling around at the far end of my backyard, searching for a ley line on which to establish my laboratory.
Apparently the defensive spells would be nigh impregnable if they could find a ley line strong enough to passively fuel them.
“Who are they?” Finn asked, tapping his pencil on the page as he chewed his lip. He didn’t look anxious per se, but he didn’t look happy either.
“Contractors from Misty Hollow. Wanda says I should build a lab to commemorate my new abilities, and I thought it was a good idea.”
Though ‘lab’ made me sound like Doctor Frankenstein, complete with my own cemetery close by, in case I wanted to go shopping for choice parts.
The thought made me smile, just a little.
Only a few years ago, some of my friends in the Hollow would have tried to build me a boyfriend Six Million Dollar Man-style.
They’d found my woeful lack of prospects in the relationship area a crime.
It was a good thing I’d absolutely refused any magical help.
Because then there’d been Andre.
Heat rose up the back of my neck as I remembered just how much I enjoyed having Andre sharing not only my house, but my bed. I wasn’t sure if it was the fact he was my soulmate or if we really were that compatible, but I’d been yet to be disappointed. Every time felt... well... magical.
“Mom?”
Finn’s voice yanked me back to mortifying reality and I ducked my chin, discreetly checking to see if I’d been drooling. Just the thought of my boyfriend was enough to make me dream blissful little daydreams of all the naughty things we did when we had time to ourselves.
“What was that, Finn?” I asked.
“Why do you need a lab? Can’t you just do your brewing in here like you usually do?”
My jaw snapped shut, and my stomach performed a nervous roll.
This was the part that I hadn’t been looking forward to explaining.
Finn was a smart kid. A brave, kind, sweet kid who’d already gone through enough in his life.
I wanted to be the source of comfort and safety when he needed me, not a source of potential worry.
I wanted to tell him that it wasn’t a big deal.
But it was. Lying to him about the reasons I wanted a lab would only guarantee me the cold shoulder.
Finn could sense lies, even if he didn’t always know what the underlying truth might be.
The point was: he would know I was lying to him.
It had meant difficult conversations with him when he was a little boy.
White lies didn’t phase him anymore, but a whopper like ‘there’s nothing to worry about’ would register on the Richter Scale.
There were things to worry about, and I was a big part of the reason why.
I settled down into the chair next to his, scooting as close as he’d let me. My good cheer was gone, replaced by a sense of shame as I tried to explain.
“Do you remember what I did when we were on the run from that monster a while ago?”
It had been one of the strangest and scariest road trips I’d ever been on. When we weren’t dodging demons and vampire models, we’d been participating in some of the most obscure magics I’d ever encountered.
“Yeah, I remember.”
“Then you remember that I set a demon on fire without meaning to.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, it’s one thing if my potions boil over when I’m brewing. The house might smell a little funny for a few hours. But if I’m doing alchemy and something boils over...”
I let the sentence hang there. It had been the theme of several nightmares hence.
Finn absorbed that before nodding slowly. “Okay, I get that. Can they make the lab fireproof?”
“I sure hope so.” I looked out at the two of them, where it appeared they were arguing about something. “One of them is a dragon. It would be a shame if all his work went up in flames in case he sneezes.”
“Why would he sneeze?”
I looked at my son. “My point is that he’s probably figured out a way to make sure all his hard work doesn’t burn down.”
“Ah, okay, that makes sense.” Then his nose was back in his math book, and I was pretty sure the word ‘hell’ was going to revisit me very soon.
***
There was a brief, quiet lull after Finn finished his homework and retired to his bedroom to play video games.
It was the sort of quiet that hummed softly beneath the noise of the refrigerator and the rustle of pages turning.
I stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up, a bottle of elderflower liqueur in one hand and a half-cut lime in the other.
I measured with my heart, for the most part.
A splash here, a dash there, and a muttered curse when I overpoured the gin.
At the table, Andre had settled in with one of his old books on magic, the spine cracked and corners turned. The lamplight picked out the edges of his hair in gold.
He looked up when the shaker clinked. “Do you want help with those before your friends get here?”
I shook my head, smiling faintly at him over one shoulder. “No, I’m fine. You’d just make them too perfect. Alcohol in all the right measurements.”
“Isn’t that sort of the point, love?”
“Not when Wanda wants to get plastered.” I took a breath. “Besides, I have to interrogate her tonight, and you know she’s more likely to spill magical secrets if I get her good and schnockered first.”
Andre chuckled, low and warm. “Well, far be it from me to impose sobriety on a meeting of the Black Cat Cocktail Club. How did you come up with that quaint little sobriquet anyway?”
“That is a very long story,” I muttered, adding another dash of gin to the mixture. “And one that Wanda will exaggerate if I let her. Tell you later. Rain check?”
He watched me a moment longer than necessary before turning another page. “Sure.”
My bar kit was nothing fancy. A shaker, a long-handled spoon with the bowl bent slightly to one side, and a row of mismatched glassware that had survived both experiments and social disasters.
The smell of gin mixed with rosemary and lime made a bright counterpoint to the earthy, alchemical funk beneath it.
Andre closed the book but left one finger marking the page. “It smells like you’ve been busy,” he said, eyes flicking toward the cluttered counter.
I laughed softly, heat rising into my cheeks. He was getting good at reading my mishaps by now. It made me feel warm and tingly and nervous in a way I couldn’t quite describe.
“You can tell? I tried to clean up after the sleeping potion, but the valerian root doesn’t like to leave quietly.”
He leaned back in the chair, stretching his long legs out beneath the table. “The Valerian isn’t what’s bothering you, is it?”
I glanced down, feeling the heat prickle from my neck onto my cheeks.
“No, it’s this thing with Indigo. I still can’t look at her without seeing Lydia’s face. It’s like my cousin’s still there, just… behind Indigo’s eyes.”
Andre watched my face, the lamplight softening his expression. “And that bothers you?”
“Of course it does.”
“Why?”
I shrugged. “Well, because the whole thing is sort of... creepy. And then there’s the way Wanda’s reacting to it. Like Indigo is a bomb waiting to go off. And the worst part is that I can’t say the caution is unwarranted.”
I leaned against the counter, swirling the drink idly in one hand, watching the faint shimmer of potion residue catch the light.
“Then where is the issue?”
“I don’t know,” I said finally. “Wanda and Indigo looked like they were walking on glass earlier. Wanda was trying to be polite, but I can tell she’s wary. And Indigo—she’s trying too hard to act like she belongs here.”
Andre glanced up from his book again, brow lifting slightly. “You’re thinking of meddling.”
“Not meddling,” I said defensively. “I was just thinking that maybe a small potion might help. Something for goodwill. Nothing big.”
He chuckled under his breath, the sound deep and warm. “You want to spike their tea with diplomacy?”
I sighed. “I just hate seeing things awkward like they are currently. Wanda’s been good to her, but Indigo keeps shrinking back every time someone raises their voice. She’s not dangerous anymore... I’m pretty sure.” She seemed more like a timid dog who had been kicked one too many times.
Andre set the book aside, steepling his fingers. “You can’t fix this for her, Poppy. She has to rebuild trust the long way. And if Wanda’s the one offering it, you should let her handle it.”
I frowned, tracing a circle in the condensation on the glass. “I know. But I feel like I should do something. Anything.”
“Do something for your lab,” he said gently. “You’ve got foundations and raw talent, but it won’t mean much if you spend your energy smoothing other people’s rough edges.”
I raised a brow at him. “You think I can’t multitask?”
“Oh, I think you can,” Andre said with a half-smile. “But you shouldn’t. Not when you’ve finally got a chance to build something that’s yours and just yours.”
I sighed again, quieter this time. “You’re probably right.”
Andre nodded. “I usually am.”
“Arrogant.”
“Honest,” he countered, reaching for his drink. “And besides, if Indigo and Wanda are meant to work things out, they will. No potion can hurry that.” Then he paused a moment, just studying me in that way of his.
“What?” I asked.
He smiled. “I want you to tell me why you kept your worries to yourself about your alchemy.”
I shifted my weight, not quite looking in his direction. “Who said I was nervous?”
“Need I remind you that we are connected, Poppy? That we are bound?”
“No.”
“Then you know I can feel it when you’re worried about something.” He paused. “So, I will repeat my question: why didn’t you tell me you were so nervous?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t want to worry you.”
“You don’t get to protect me from your feelings, Poppy. That’s not how this works. We are in a relationship together.” He paused. “And together means that you let me in when something is worrying you. So I can help shoulder it.”
“I’ll... try.”
He stood so he could join me by the counter. “I’m always here for you, Poppy.” He reached down to secure a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “All you have to do is talk to me.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“Maybe it is,” he said, his eyes steady on mine. “With the right people.”
He leaned in, and I met him halfway. The kiss was gentle at first, a slow brushing of lips that made the pulse in my ears quicken. Then it deepened, playful and teasing.
My fingers tangled in his hair, and Andre’s hands rested lightly at my waist, grounding me even as the world outside seemed to fade away. We were breathless when we broke apart, foreheads resting together.
Then—ding. The sharp chime of the doorbell cut through the warmth, startling in its ordinary intrusiveness.
I pulled back, cheeks slightly flushed, and gave him a rueful little smile. “That would be our company.”
Andre raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Rain check on this conversation, please?”
I just nodded, although I couldn’t say I was excited about letting anyone into the tangled web that was my thoughts and feelings regarding this new magic that had awakened in me.