CHAPTER 1
Kizzi
“Old Gods spare me,” I grumbled through clenched teeth as I fought to yank my arms out of my cauldron.
Brown tar-like sludge clung to my fingers and splattered onto my worktable as I tried to extract my hands from another failed cauldron concoction. I was elbow-deep in the monstrosity, and it was holding onto me for dear life.
Something went terribly awry. Again.
Gods damned sprites.
Sprites had been making my life a living Hell’s Realm for months. Years, really. Almost my whole life. The wretched, tiny creatures ruinedeverythingfor me.
I’d done anything I could think of to try to get them to leave me alone. I performed rituals. I set up salt barricades. I brewed repellent tonics. I called in other witches for help.
Nothing worked. They always came back.
The supposed-to-be-energizing-potion refused to release me even after I yanked my arms free from the cauldron, sticking to my skin like it wanted to swallow me whole. I dunked my hands in a bucket of steaming water, scrubbing my skin raw with my strongest cleansing soap.
My forearms burned like the heat of Aldova’s dual suns, but the slime slowly dissolved. The bucket of water turned murky, like a stagnant, smelly swamp. It was gag worthy, truly.
A long-fingered hand flitted into my field of view, startling me from my efforts. I flinched so hard my heart nearly stopped, probably shaving a few days off my lifespan.
“You’ve got a little something there…” The finger swiped across my forehead, gathered a chunk of the sludge. “You’re lucky your hair is tied back today, or it would be a mess. I bet we would have to cut it off.”
Fiella, my best friend and the local vampire trinket shop owner, examined her sludgey finger with a grimace, her fangs gleaming in the warm enchanted light illuminating from the ceiling sconce. “What is this? It’s disgusting.” She wiped her finger on a cloth, and then wiped again—harder this time. Only some of the substance came off onto the fabric. She glowered at it.
Her vibrant blue hair (that I had made possible, you’re welcome, Fiella) was twisted back into a loose braid that flowed over her shoulder like water. A few strands escaped and hung by her face and the nape of her neck. Her long, lean figure was draped in a comfy-looking tunic and trousers and short black boots adorned her feet. The soles must’ve been enchanted or something because they didn’t make apeepwhen she walked in.
“Gods! You’re as quiet as a wraith, make a noise next time.” I resisted the urge to clutch my thundering heart—this tunic was too cute to ruin with slimy cauldron remnants.
“You just have bad hearing. I walked in here like a normal folk,” she grumbled.
“Whatever. You seem freakishly sneaky to me.” I glanced at Fiella as she stepped around my worktable. “Wait—no, don’t touch that!” I swatted her hand away from the basket she was about to pull off a stool.
She froze, the color draining from her already pale cheeks. “Kizziah Cedarton, what is in this basket?” She leaned over hesitantly, trying to glance inside. “It better not be what I think it is.”
“You’re using my full name right now? It’s not that serious.” I snatched the basket and shoved it under a cubby, my wet hands leaving a trail of water in their wake. The grasshoppers inside chirped loudly.
“Ugh, bugs!” Fiella visibly shivered. “I hate those fucking things.”
“I know you do, you big blood-sucking baby. They’re gone now. You can sit. Just… don't touch anything.” I resumed my station before my cauldron, considering my options. The massive bowl was half-full of roiling, twitching brown sludge. It was somewhere between a liquid and a solid and seemed to have a mind of its own. Considering how aggressively it had clung to my skin, it would beimpossibleto clean up.
I crossed my arms over my chest, tapping my foot in frustration.
Paper rustled behind me; the scent of caramelized sugar bloomed in the air. My mood lifted immediately.
“You really are a good friend.” I whirled around, reaching a hand out expectantly.
Fiella paused mid chew. “You think these are for you?” She snorted. “These are mine. Get your own.” Sugar fell from her (still somewhat messy) fingers and settled onto her lap. She brushed it off absentmindedly. The particles settled on the floor like a fine dusting of snow.
My jaw dropped. “You come intomyshop to chow down on pastries and don’t bring me any? You’re the–” She pulled out another pouch with a low chuckle and tossed it in my direction.
“I was just messing with you. I would never—I am not a demon.” She chuckled darkly. “Lemon scones today. They’re incredible.”
I caught the pouch and yanked it open, inhaling the delectable fumes. “Thank the Gods. I almost cast a curse on you.”
I looked around for a clean cloth—I would be damned if I ate anything my grimy hands touched. Sure, I had scrubbed them hard enough to draw blood, but they still felt tainted. A small white handkerchief came to my rescue.
