“What’s in it?” questioned the orc, she and the kitsune catching up with the mothwomen at last, carrying several pot scrubbers in a kraft paper bag. “I’m okay with a bit of peppermint oil, but my thighs will lockdown like a supermax prison if you come near me with the camphor stuff again.”
“That’s for muscle aches!” one of the mothwomen exclaimed, the other two still laughing. “You’re not supposed to use itthere.”
The kitsune gasped in offense, her shoulders shaking. “Don’t blamemefor that! You did that all on your own!”
The other three women laughed, and Ladybug smiled wanly, her mind too busy panicking to fully register the joke.
“Well, they should put a warning on the tube,” the orc sniffed.
“Not that she reads labels on anything,” the kitsune wheezed. All four women were laughing raucously, the kitsune nearly doubled over at the waist. “What do you want the label to say?! ‘Fast-acting muscle relief. Not intended for your clit.’ Is that what you need, Tirza?”
Holt snorted from his hidden seat, tucked away behind the banner, and Ladybug gasped, catching up with the conversation at last.
“It’s nothing like that!” she assured them, cheeks reddening. “I-I mean, itis. But the ingredients in those muscular aids are much too harsh for the delicate skin and mucous membranes of the vulva. This formulation is very light and all-natural. I use a plant cellulose and purified water, and —“ She sucked in a centering breath — “pure, unadulterated Araneaen venom. The only difference between these three is the amount of venom.” She was talking too much. Too many details they didn’t need to know, too much technicality.Mucous membranes, what are you thinking?!
“Where does it come from?” the bespectacled mothwoman asked seriously, and Ladybug wondered if they thought she was engaging in a black market trade.
She hesitated. How to tell them she’d gone up the attic steps with a vial for collection the previous week, that Anzan had held the small bottle to one of his fangs and pressed, scarcely turning his eyes away from the several monitors in front of him; that the ritual took less than a minute before he was sipping his coffee and resuming his work, and she was headed back to her work cauldron, a process they’d repeated half a dozen times since.It’s on tap in my attic, whenever I need.
“My partner is an Araneaen. The collection process is completely sterile, and I make sure to —“
“Are you the ones over in Oldetowne?” the orc interrupted. Behind the banner, Holt raised his head.
Ladybug felt her cheeks heat, but she did not look away.We walk to the noose with our heads held high.“We are. I take it you work for City Hall?” Her voice shook slightly with the question, but the orcish woman only chuckled.
“Not quite. Same building, though. Emergency dispatch, but I hear enough. You have some real pieces of work over there.”
Heat flooded her as she nodded, the threat of overwhelmed tears pressing down on her sinuses. “It’s always been that way. We’re just trying to live our lives, you know.”
The orc nodded again. “Yeah, we know what that’s like. So, what’s the difference between them?” She nodded at the lubricants.
“The weakest of the three will produce the tingling effect you’re talking about.”
The four women exchanged a fast look, the kitsune’s eyebrows disappearing beneath her dark bangs. “And what does the strongest do?” one of the mothwomen asked, her voice hesitant.
You can do this! Be like Holt.“It still tingles,” she attempted to joke, hoping she didn’t sound as ridiculous as she feared. “But it’s more than that. You’ll feel hot and . . . it enhanceseverything. Increased sensitivity and blood flow, swelling of the clitoral glans, and —“
“And I’ll come in thirty seconds. Got it.” The orc smiled broadly, as the kitsune collapsed in giggles against her side. “Can I buy two?”
Holt choked on his laughter from behind the banner, and she was obliged to turn away as the women began sampling body butters and sniffing her herbal remedies. She wrapped the order, hiding her triumphant smile until they’d left, each of them carrying a bag of product. He was right — she was going to make a killing.And who would want Anzan to leave after they’ve experiencedthat?
“So, I was thinking.”
Ladybug looked askance at the familiar. Those were ominous words from Holt’s mouth. He rarely ever held back from what he was thinking, so to begin in such a way could only mean he was about to suggest something truly awful or immoral.
Around them, the community center buzzed. It was the last week of the month, the fifth time they had set up their table bright and early on a Saturday morning, the whole month gone in the blink of an eye. Ladybug could scarcely believe it. She had realized, somewhere between weeks two and three, that she had done more socializing and talking to strangers that month than she had done perhaps in the entirety of her adult life.
Despite his early warnings that he would not be doing this with her forever, Holt had not mentioned it again, nor had he alluded to the fact that any given Saturday might be his last. He dropped by the house at least two or three times a week, whether or not he had specific work to do with her, insinuating himself into their daily routine as seamlessly as if he truly were a stray cat they had adopted.
So much in her life had changed, and it was a strange comfort to have those little pockets of familiarity. It was a house full of relics, but somehow, she and Anzan were making new memories among them together, a new chapter of the Brackenbridge history, and Holt had slipped himself back into the margins of each page. She’d not changed her mind about wanting a familiar of her own, but having him around hadn’t been as aggravating as she’d first feared.
She had been correct in her suspicions about the males under her roof. Holt and Anzan had become the best of chums, and the days she happened upon them whispering over her work counter, she realized the terrible truth she had wrought – she was now outnumbered in her own home.
“I have been to many places and seen many things, cat man. If you are in the market for the truly arcane, I know where to find it.”
“As it so happens, the market for the truly arcane is positively through the roof,” Holt had purred. “I’ll have no trouble finding a buyer.”
They had cut off abruptly when she’d entered, Anzan busying himself at the coffee machine as Holt hopped up on the counter, both of them pretending nothing was amiss.
