My thoughts skittered to a certain green witch, as they too often did. No matter how many times I chastised myself for being foolish, I couldn’t shake the seed of affection that the tiny, stubborn witch had planted within me.
Kizzi had actually smiled at me yesterday at the pub. My cheeks lifted on their own accord as I remembered it. I could picture exactly what she had looked like. She had been wearing a pretty brown tunic, pulled in at the waist with a corset, tucked into a green skirt that hid the shape of her curvy legs. Her usual leather boots laced over her ankles. Her throat was adorned with a thin chain.
She looked as beautiful as ever, and when she smiled, she knocked the breath out of my lungs.
Even if she never returned my affections, at least I had these small, precious moments.
I hope she’ll like my spiced pumpkin cider at the potluck…
CHAPTER 6
Kizzi
My second-largest cauldron sat above my firepit, happily bubbling away.
The chili mixture had taken longer than expected to come to a boil, but after a night on the heat source, it was stewing wonderfully. The whole shop smelled of spices and smoked tomatoes. The home-cooked-meal scent was a welcome change from my shop’s usual flowers-and-suspicious-liquids aroma.
I was quite proud of myself. I had only tried one small spoonful, but the chili wasedible. I couldn’t call itgood, because I had scalded my tongue in the process of sampling it and could hardly taste anything, but it certainly hadn’t made me gag.
And that was a great sign.
All in all, this whole thing was a massive success so far. It was going much better than I expected.
I stirred the cauldron wistfully, smiling down at my creation. It evenlookednice. Well, nice enough. The veggies were chopped fairly evenly, and the chunks looked enticing rather than repulsive. The beans settled wonderfully next to the beef pieces, and the green onions added a nice splash of color.
I leaned in and inhaled deeply. The boiling hot steam almost burnt my eyebrows off, but the lungful of deliciously scented airwas worth it. I let it out slowly. “Ah. That’s good shit.” I glanced around to see if any of the sprites felt like celebrating my victory. Perhaps a round of applause, or a song and dance.
Besides a few flickers in my peripheral vision, I didn’t see an audience. Bummer.
There weren’t even any cats around to turn into pretend audience members. I wasn’t much of a cat person, but there were a few that meandered through Moonvale, and I didn’t mind them. Fiella’s cat Sookie was one of the better ones. The large gray tabby just minded her business, ate a lot of snacks, and followed Fiella around when she felt like it. She even had a large orange boyfriend cat named Pumpkin. It was like some sort of twisted happy family over there. They were disgustingly precious.
I would tolerate a critter following me around. I bet I would even like it. Probably. Maybe. As long as it wasn’t a damned sprite.
“How about you, cauldron slime? Anything you’d like to say?”
A bubble popped noisily beneath the sheet that was still weighed down with selenite crystals.
“That’s what I thought. Bitch. My chili is so much cooler than… whatever the fuck you are.”
Sassing the sludge in the corner was becoming a weirdly entertaining pastime. I chose not to examine that impulse too closely—if I was losing my mind, that was none of my business.
The cauldron made me angrier and angrier every time I thought about cleaning it out. My resentment had built to impressive levels. I had almost decided to let the sludge rot in the corner for the rest of eternity so I would never have to deal with it, but it was inhabiting my favorite cauldron. My largest, most valuable cauldron. I couldn’t let my own laziness impact my business.
I had inherited the cauldron from the coven ages ago, when my aptitude for potion brewing began to present itself. I had been a natural, they said. But really, I was just so interested in it. I loved the thought of mixing things together to create somethingnew. Something new andspecial. Something that could help folk.
That childlike curiosity never really went away—I still loved mixing things together, saying a chant under my breath, and trying to predict the outcome. Most of the time, my predictions were right. But I still surprised myself occasionally. Almost thirty years on this realm, and a potion mishap still made me giggle like a little one. I snorted when I remembered Fiella’s face the day she stormed into my shop after my thirst tonic accidentally transformed her normally golden-brown hair into a startlingly bright blue color.
Some of my best work, truly. The color was impressively vibrant. It wasn’t really my fault—the sprites were responsible—but I eventually figured out how to concoct a bluebell potion to keep her strands from fading back to their natural color after she’d grown fond of the look.
I left the ladle perched on the edge of the chili cauldron as I packed up the day’s orders and prepared to make my deliveries. The potluck was tomorrow, and I had a few stops to make: enchanted fertilizer for Lunette’s plant shop, soaked candle wicks for the coven to make some new summoning candles, and fumigation sage for a cottage with a mouse problem.
As I walked out the door, I paused and turned around. I waved my finger threateningly around, trying to glimpse any flashes of movement. “You little fuckers better be good, or I’ll banish you with another seance. I know you didn’t likethatvery much.” As usual there was no response, but a slight breeze pushed a tendril of hair behind my shoulder. I shivered and ran my fingers through my curls, pulling the strands back into place.
“And you!” I shouted to the cauldron in the far corner. “Fuck you!”
I glared menacingly into the interior of my shop for a few moments for good measure.
Feeling better, I tucked the strap of my satchel higher onto my shoulder and set about my deliveries.
