Chapter 7 #2
“No, other than bringing me these.” I gesture toward the bag.
“Something puzzled me, though. When I described the fae, I happened to glance in his direction and he looked thunderous, like he could have gone on a rampage in the room. I had never seen that expression on him before. I don’t know what to think about it. ”
Walt looks dubious. “He’s had a long stretch of years to reflect on his behavior toward you. He probably feels guilty as hell. Or he’s looking for a way out with a current mate,” he theorizes, rolling his eyes.
“Could you even imagine?” I guffaw. “Don’t worry. I learned my lesson the first time with that good-for-nothing male. I’ll never settle for being second place again.”
We split up after lunch. Walt and Acton head to the gardening store in search of their next breakthrough in Acton’s landscaping project.
Before they left, Walt took pity on me and relieved me of the pink bag, making me breathe a little easier.
I couldn’t even finish my salad, so I’m bringing half of it home with me.
My feet walk me in the direction of Mayweather Potions and Panacea out of instinct.
It’s my second home, after all. But what will I do while I’m there?
Sunny has it well in hand. She’s been so kind to contribute more of her magick to me and the shop than she should.
When she visited me last week, she even went around the house to top up any charms and enchantments she noticed might be running low.
I also had her check the fountain. That task has been ingrained in me since childhood.
Just the thought of leaves falling into it fills me with dread.
But it isn’t fair to her to overcompensate because I’m now lacking.
I plan on tallying that extra work and pay her accordingly along with her weekly wage. For as many weeks as I must.
The door chimes in its familiar fashion as I open it. Sunny’s glowing caramel-complected face lights up when she sees me. “Ada! You’re back! Let me show you what I’m working on.”
She takes my hand and tugs me toward our workstation where we concoct potions, which have a range of consistencies depending on the use.
“One of the London covens is doing incredibly advanced work with cosmetics. They’ve inspired some fresh ideas that I’ve wanted to try out.
My friends and I are having so much fun with it,” she gushes.
Her hair looks particularly glamorous today with long flowing curls in a shimmering purple tone, resembling tinsel.
Usually it’s straight and dark, pulled back in a high ponytail while she’s working.
Gesturing to her hair, I ask, “Is this your handiwork? It’s gorgeous.”
“Yes!” she replies in an energetic burst. “I developed so many shades. Even some balayage options. They turned out even better than I hoped. Would you mind if I sell them here?”
“Of course not,” I assure her. “Everyone will go crazy for them. Keep track of the amount we sell, and I’ll add that to your paycheck. Keep creating new items and we’ll add them to the shelves.”
“Thank you! I have so many ideas!” she squeals.
Sunny’s magick has always shown exceptional artistry.
Her spellweaving creates unusually compelling results.
She’s taken over most of the shape-changing and aesthetic work in the shop.
She possesses an innate talent for it I could never replicate.
While we already sell items that change hair color, they are not nearly as complex as hers based on the example she’s currently wearing.
It seems like she found a passion project, and I’m more than happy to support her.
Since I’m here, I tackle some work that doesn’t require magick.
After checking over inventory, I finish the shift scheduling for the next few weeks.
Luckily, no one is taking any time off until Yule.
Grasping the nettle, I mark myself down for my normal working hours.
It’ll force me back to reality, and I’ll always hold myself accountable to my staff.
Though I may be cursing my current self in the future.
Some young coven members come in, striking up a conversation with me and Sunny.
“Did you feel those ward disturbances last night? It doesn’t make sense.
Like someone was poking at it,” mentions Cash, a male close to Sunny’s age.
I didn’t know since I can’t feel the town’s ward any longer.
It’s like a light buzz of awareness if something crosses it that shouldn’t.
It grows stronger if the ward doesn’t expel it soon enough.
“Yes! It woke me up,” she grumbles.
“A bunch of us checked out the spot right afterward. It didn’t look like anyone had been there,” Reed, a friend of theirs, remarks with a shrug. While I’m glad to hear it was nothing, there’s something unsettling about our ward being set off right now.
During a quiet moment in the shop, I fold myself into a seat in the little lounge full of cozy chairs near the oversized windows at the front of the shop.
My eyes roam the long, narrow space with antique dark wood shelves reaching the tall ceiling constructed well over a century ago.
The shelves, filled with jars of ingredients, charms, amulets, potions, and much more, look almost as good as new.
The rolling ladders attached to the top still slide along their tracks as smoothly as ever.
I wonder if I should paint the deep eggplant walls a lighter shade.
Maybe my mood is affecting my opinion today, but it feels too dark.
A new paint color would fix that. So would new lighting.
The old Moroccan lanterns were a later addition to the store. Those might need to go.
“I’m being ridiculous,” I mutter quietly to myself after daydreaming even more updates.
If I’m not careful, I’ll gut the place without realizing it.
I need to curb this line of thought for now.
But I’ll revisit it later. I shouldn’t be afraid of change.
I can’t wallow in the past any longer. If I want to do something, I’ll do it.
No one can hold me back except myself, even if my magick is never restored.
Getting up from the chair, I light a fresh stick of incense, one of our customer favorites. It has calming properties that soothe without causing sleepiness. We offer a few scents, but orange blossom is my favorite. It smells exactly like a freshly bloomed flower on the tree.
After making a few calls and setting up vendor payments, most of my tasks are finished.
An hour, then another, passes by quickly, always a pleasant surprise when working.
When there’s not much else for me to do that doesn’t involve magick, I wave goodbye to Sunny and begin my stroll toward town hall where I parked my Wagoneer this morning.
As soon as I step onto the sidewalk, the hair rises on the back of my neck, that telltale sign of unease.
My head twists around, but nothing looks unusual.
It might be paranoia; it’s hard to tell.
Still, the feeling sticks with me as I reach the next block.
Other pedestrians pass by on the sidewalk, none the wiser to this nagging feeling that something isn’t right.
Am I being followed? My steps pick up speed, propelling me until I’m nearly jogging.
My breath is loud in my ears at the effort and my heart pounds uncomfortably against my chest. If I can just get to town hall, I’ll be safe.
There’s a crunch on the pavement behind me and I yelp in fear, lunging forward to cross the street to its front plaza.
I’m so close. I just need to sprint to the door. ..
The breath whooshes out of me as something hooks me around the waist, hauling me backward.
A deep growl emanates from behind me as an automobile speeds by scarily fast down the sleepy street.
The vicious sound fires up my instinct to fight with all my strength.
“No!” I screech, alarmed by the dangers both in front of and behind me.
I struggle against the tight hold, jerking my body to break free.
I survived the fae once, I’ll do it again!
“Ada!” My name breaks through the haze, but I can’t stop thrashing against the restraint.
“Ada! Stop! You will hurt yourself,” the roaring but flustered voice vibrates through my body, calming me enough to regain control of myself.
The blind panic bleeds away and my struggle slows against the loosening band around my middle.
I force myself turn around and face the thing that’s been watching me, chasing me down the street, and scaring me half to death.
Unbelievable. Norrell’s frowning mug peers down at me, only inches away.
Reflexively, I shove hard against his chest. Though my strength is no match for his, he moves back to put some space between us.
“You scared me half to death!” My voice chokes. “Are you here to finish what the fae started?” I can’t seem to catch my breath.
“Of course not!” he bursts out, looking horrified. “I wanted to make sure you were okay, but you started running down the street not paying attention to traffic.”
I shake my head in disbelief while staring daggers at him. “Fire burn it to ashes, Norrell. I’m fine. Leave me alone!” My chest is still tight with fear. He’s the whole reason why I was running. He can’t turn this around on me.
“You did not look fine this morning. And you still do not,” he replies, a thread of concern laced in his voice.
“And I wonder why,” I seethe, emphasizing each word. “It’d be just peachy if you’d kindly stay out of my way for the remainder of your time here.” I twirl around and cross the street, this time looking both ways to make sure it’s clear.
“Ada, wait! There is something I must say,” he calls out from the spot where I left him. With ample space between us, I’m feeling a little more generous toward him.