“Hey, no throwing the merchandise.” Isis picks up the herb bag. “Ever since the village started Speed Dating Tuesdays at the Rose & Wimple, the penis enlargement spells have been our top sellers.”
“Don’t mind the two of them. They’re drunk.” Dora emerges from the back room, balancing a tray with four steaming teacups and a small plate of biscuits. She looks happier than when I last saw her, and she’s here hanging out with Isis and Komal, so the little chat Arabella and I had with Mike must’ve worked. It figures Mike’s threats are ashollow as his head. But there’s a cloak of sadness over her shoulders I haven’t noticed before. People are probably so busy looking at Isis – the kooky, crazy sister – that they never notice Dora. But beneath her baggy sweater and severe ponytail, there is a woman with galaxies in her eyes. I hope one day someone notices them.
I accept the cup containing crimson-coloured liquid. I take a sip. It’s quite good – it tastes of blood, with a lovely vanilla nose.
I set down the cup and meet their gaze. “I’ve been planning a grand gesture for a certain lady—”
“Arabella?” Komal claps her hands. “It’s Arabella, right?”
“As I said on the group chat, I can neither confirm nor deny.”
“What are you planning?” Komal’s ponytail bounces behind her as she performs another classic dance move – the sideways camel having intercourse. “Did you read all those dark romance books Maisie sent you?”
“I did, and I have somanyquestions.” I fix Komal with a look of utmost horror. “Since when are women fawning over men who don’t take no for an answer?”
She shrugs. “What can I say? If he’s a red flag in real life, he’s hot AF in fiction. Sometimes all a girl wants is for a sexy hitman to tie her up in the back of a car and force her to do all kinds of depraved things… and like them.”
“If you say so.” All the hitmen I’ve known in my life have been ugly brutes and I wouldn’t want these sweet ladies anywhere near them… mainly because the Nevermore Coven would have the hitmen quaking in their boots. “I’ve come up with somethingmildlyunhinged. But I need your help with a little ambience.”
“Name it.” Dora sips her tea.
“Most human dates involve food. Vampires don’t enjoy food the way humans do, but we are particularly attuned to scent. Especially…” I swallow down a memory that fights its way to the surface. “Especiallymydate. So I’m looking for some scented candles.”
“We can help you there!” Isis drags me over to a shelf that’s buckling under the weight of candles in every size, colour and shape. “What sort of scent are you interested in?”
“I don’t know, exactly. The sort of scents you might smell in a movie theatre.”
“Ooooh, if you’re planning a movie date, this one is essential.” Isis hands me a candle. I bury my nose in it, trying to block out all the other scents in the shop. Hot, buttery, salty popcorn. Perfect.
“And maybe something for dessert.” Dora reaches over Isis’s head to grab a blood-red candle. “Arabella loves red cherries.”
I inhale the crimson candle. It smells sweet and fresh with a bright tang, like a warm Paris night. Even one hundred and fifty years later, it conjures up the taste of Arabella’s lips, a taste I’ve never been able to forget.
“It’s perfect,” I breathe.
The ladies start tossing candles at me. By the time they’re done, they’ve talked me into ten flavours, all of which they swear to me Arabella will love. While Isis skips off to wrap up my purchases, Dora clutches a small floral candle in her hand and stares intently at me.
“What?” I make a face. “Do I have someone in my teeth?”
“It’s just that… do peonies, irises, waterlilies and apple blossoms hold significance to you?”
She holds the candle to my nose. My breath catches on my tongue. It’s theexactscent of a certain garden where Arabella and I…
I swallow. “Yes. They mean something to me.”
Dora frowns. “When I picked up this candle, I saw a vision of you and Arabella. Do you want to know it?”
“I thought Isis was the village clairvoyant?”
Dora glances over her shoulder, checking that Isis is occupied, doing battle with a wad of tissue paper. “You have no idea how badly I wish Isis was the one with the power. She loves all this witchy stuff. But we don’t always get what we wish for. So do you want to—”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” Dora closes her eyes. “I see a necklace. No, it’s more than a necklace, it’s like a collar of gold, covered in glittering jewels. In the centre is a stone of the deepest blue, carved like a scarab.”
My heart thuds against my chest.
“You’re holding it in your hands,” she says. “You’re so happy. You’re excited. You’ve never felt like this before. But I see other things, too. A dim parking lot. Tombstones. A phone with a blinking message. A dark presence. A painting made of light. And blood, so much blood…”
