Later that evening, I returned to my apothecary to find everything seemingly undisturbed and wonderfully aromatic. The fragrance was growing stronger and stronger—I could practically smell it from down the street. The stirring ladle I had been using had clattered to the floor, but that was my own fault for leaving it perched where I shouldn’t have. It probably fell on its own.
Maybe my threats had worked and the sprites behaved for once.
I tossed the ladle into my washbasin and grabbed a clean one to give the chili a stir. Tomorrow, I would have to haul the heavy cauldron to the park in the center of town square, but it would be worth the effort when everyone saw that I hadactuallyprepared something edible this year.
In previous years, I simply arrived at the potluck empty handed. The folk of Moonvale didn’t mind sharing, especially since I helped everyone with their potion-related needs. This year, though, the rules were stricter. Everyone had to prepare their own dish to bring. No exceptions. No ifs, no ands, no buts. Ridiculous, if you asked me.
The chili was coming together beautifully, turning a rich, deep brown color. It was thickening up, too. After another night of stewing and a few finishing touches, it would be perfect.
I pulled off my dress and slipped into my nightgown as I prepared for bed.
A gentle creaking made my ears prick to attention. I froze, listening intently, but the sound didn’t repeat.
Maybe my mind is playing tricks on me…
With a sigh, I picked up an enchanted lantern and made another round, ensuring that everything in the shop was secure so I could go to sleep with peace of mind.
I quickly discovered the source of the creaking sound; I hadn’t shut my personal cabinet properly when I retrieved the chili recipe earlier, and the door was gently swinging on its hinges. Back and forth, back and forth. Rolling my eyes at my own carelessness, I locked the cabinet properly, ignoring the gentle bolt of magic that skittered up my palm, through my forearm, and across my collarbone.
I slipped into my washroom to rinse the day’s grime from my skin. Quickly, I cleaned my hair with my favorite honey scented soap and braided it down my back so it would be smooth and wavy for tomorrow’s festivities.
As I grabbed my book and curled up in my bed, I made plans for how I would dispose of the cauldron sludge. I would need my largest cauldron for Hallow’s Eve and the coven’s rituals. Hallow’s Eve was the night when the veil between the realms was at its thinnest. When magic flowed more freely and could be manipulated with more ease.
It would be soon, I decided. I was tired of looking at it. But not tomorrow—tomorrow would be busy. Maybe the next day. I would drag the cauldron to the border of the Barren Lands and let it dry out, and then I would dump the dried remnants in the river and forget about the demonic sludge once and for all.
I drifted off to sleep with my book still open and my mind full of magical worlds, swashbuckling pirates, and annoying sprites.
CHAPTER 7
Tandor
Town square park was a cacophony of noise and movement. This early in the morning, the dual suns had yet to reach their peak, but the folk of Moonvale were awake and moving.
Tables had been set out—pulled from the diner and the pub and spread through the entire park. Some folk even brought their own tables and chairs from their cottages to guarantee they would have somewhere to sit and enjoy the festivities.
I lost count of how many tables I hauled. The wooden things were easy to hoist over my shoulder, but after at least twenty of them, my muscles were warm and loose, thick with blood flow. Every single one of the pub’s tables was now sitting in the park. It felt strange, seeing the worn wood out in the broad sunlight of morning. The color was lighter, the brown pulling more toward orange than toward red as it did in the glow of the dim pub lanterns.
Amid the table arranging chaos, I had dragged myself to the pub’s cellar to haul the barrels to the event before all the good tables were taken. I even brought Ginger’s—there was no way the small faun woman would have been able to hoist it herself. She was strong, but she wasn’tthatstrong. She had preparedboth wine and stew for the potluck because she couldn’t pick a favorite. Typical Ginny.
I preferred the space on the far end of the park, toward Fiella’s Finds and Lu’s Blooms. Most of the cottages were situated that way, which meant that most folk would pass by the table to enter the event and would visit me first.
It was all very strategic. I wanted to be the first smiling face they saw when they entered the park, and I wanted their mugs to be filled with my cider before they had the chance to be filled with anything else.
There wasn’t much competition for the far table, so my ridiculously early rise had been pointless. My spiced pumpkin cider and Ginger’s mulberry wine were set up, ready to be enjoyed, and the event didn’t start until the suns reached their peak. Ginger situated herself in the center of the park, in the middle of the action, where she would be in the core of the crowd. The thought made me cringe a little.
I held back a yawn for what felt like the hundredth time.
I tried to force my groggy thoughts to wake up. Dumping a bucket of cold water over my head in my washroom had not been enough—my eyes ached to be closed. I decided I would close them forjusta second. Five seconds, max. Taking a seat on a rickety stool, I leaned my elbows on my table and propped my head up, leaning against the barrel for balance.
Just… going to… rest… my eyes…
Thwack!
My head smacked onto the table with a resounding thud, snapping me awake. My eyes scanned the area for a threat. Ginger stood above me, chuckling darkly. Her hair was slicked back in a style that made her antlers especially prominent. “You’re an asshole,” I grumbled.
“And you’re going to miss all the good stuff if you don’t get yourselfup. Come on, it’s about to start!”
I glanced around, surprised to find that so much time had passed. Most of the tables were full.
