“That one.” I say in my ‘teacher’ voice. “Is for money and career. Burn it for nine nights before a job interview and you’re almost guaranteed success.”
“You sure about that? Because itreallylooks like a dick.”
I bark out an awkward laugh. “Yes. I’m sure. And the witch that crafts it gives a ninety eight percent guarantee. With some terms and conditions, of course.”
“Like what?”
“Like no one else burning the same candle. And you being a suitably qualified candidate, among other things.”
“So it’s bogus?”
“Eh, changing the course of life paths is tricky. It can be tempting the whims of the Gods to try and change them.”
“Right.” Nikolo says warily, putting the candle down.
“Now, if getting lucky is what you’re after, this is the one you want.” I toss the heavy candle in my hands at Nikolo.
Unfortunately, he’s still got the same awful hand eye coordination he had as a kid. I thought he’d developed some skills considering the tricks he does at Bloody Temptations behind the bar, but from the way he fumbles the heavy lump of wax before finally securing it to his chest, bottles must be the only exceptions to the rule. My stifled laughter earns me a death glare that only intensifies as the smell of the candle finally infiltrates his limited vampire olfactory senses. He looks so offended I can’t keep my laughter inside. I shove my fist in my mouth, but it doesn’t work.
“What the fuck is that?” His nostrils flare repeatedly like he’s trying to shake the cloying smell from his nostrils.
“Milk from a pugglish thistle. Smells atrocious, is actually an intensely powerful aphrodisiac when burnt.”
“You’re pulling my leg, right? I can barely fucking smell and I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to get it up with that thing burning.”
“Nope, deadly serious.” I manage to get a hold of myself and put the candle back on the shelf. Only the vague smell of thecandle, and all the comments about getting it up havemegetting it up.
“What else’ve you got back there?” Nikolo asks, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the counter.
“Uhhh.” I try to think of something to show him but the loose neck of his sweater gapes giving me the perfect view of the creamy, tattooed skin of his chest and suddenly my mouth is very dry and my brain is very empty.
“What’re they?” Apparently completely oblivious, or maybe just used to beings drooling all over him, he points to a display of elixir vials on the shelves.
The beautiful bottles of brightly coloured liquids twinkle and reflect the light as I lift the display stand over.
“Honestly? Mostly sugar water and food colouring.” I say, spinning the stand so the reflection of light dances like a disco ball. “But there’s just enough magic to make them technically elixirs, but humans can take them without getting sick. You’ve got luck, eloquence, vitality… the usuals.”
Nikolo pulls a face and nods, picking up one bottle and inspecting the label and then another. I watch the cautious way he handles them, as if they aren’t mostly cheap gag products we keep on hand to pad sales. It’s the same hesitant curiosity he’s had since he’s come inside—kind of like he’s expecting the place to collapse in on him for being in here or the ghost of some grand mage ancestor is suddenly going to appear and declare he shall not enter.
I know the look, and I know it well. I’ve seen it on the face of hundreds of students who’ve passed through the shop over the years. Wannabe witches or stray beings who’ve been without mentors to show them how to harness their magic. Beings who were desperate to learn, but didn’t know where to start or if it was possible or, in the case of humans seeking the path of a witch, if it was the right decision.
As a vampire, wielding magic is not something he’s going to be able to do. But, my intuition sparks, that doesn’t mean anything. There are a thousand and one ways to experience magic. Based on what Egbert told me, and the conclusions my intuition is currently jumping to—conclusions I’m pretty sure are right—Nikolo has cut himself off from magic as much as possible for any being.
The thousand strands my brain is running through finally weave together into a singular thread of clarity.I want to show him. Helping people find their way with magic is my job here at The Magnifitestique Mage. More than that, it’s my passion in life.
If magic is what Nikolo wants, what he feels is missing in his life, then I want to give that to him.
“Come see this.” I announce, leaving the elixirs beside the register and rounding the counter. Excitement puts a bounce in my step, and despite it being late as shit, I’m completely energised by my new, secret mission. Because I have zero doubt that if I outrightaskedNikolo about if he wants to find a way to incorporate magic into his life he’ll deny it and bolt.
Dutifully, he follows me to the basket of dasilus flower buds on the herbs and flora shelves. The tightly closed bud looks dried and dead in the basket, but it springs to life the moment I lay it on the palm of my hand, blooming into a beautiful pastel pink flower.
Nikolo nods, impressed, but doesn’t move his hands from where they’ve returned to his pockets. His little hum of approval makes my stomach flutter and my heart rate spike. I know he can hear it, but I feel like it’s only creating a positive feedback loop, so I don’t bother trying to control it. He follows me around the store like a timid puppy that’s learning to trust its new owners, getting closer and closer until he’s finally comfortableenough to stand so close that his chest brushes my arm when he leans in to look at the deck of fortune cards in my hands.
There is definitely something different about Nikolo’s presence compared to a regular being. The knowledge that hecouldbe a vicious predator stirs something primal inside me making me hyper aware of him. And he doesn’t generate body heat like other beings do. He doesn’t have the same aura field, either. There is just a space where his body exists. Energetically, it’s almost like the negative space that signifies his presence.
The difference is stark—one of the many differences that caused the otherness of vampires over the centuries—but only exaggerates the way Nikolo himself makes me feel.
“You’re tired.” He says when I stop explaining the enchanted mirror I’m showing him to give a jaw cracking yawn. “It’s late, I should go.”
