“I don’t need any help,” she called out as he shut his car door.
“Didn’t say you did,” Ethan said, coming around the car and opening her door anyway.
He stepped into the shop first, the bell above the door giving a cheery jingle that felt deeply inappropriate considering the amount of stress knotting up his spine. Immediately upon entering, he did what anyone in his situation would do and scanned for suspicious activity.
It was your standard pharmacy up front with bright white tile, rows of cold meds, gauze pads, and enough lotion varieties to drown a cow. But along the back wall, nestled beside a plastic skeleton wearing a veil, was the danger zone: a tall wooden shelving unit stuffed with glass jars of dried herbs, hand-labeled tinctures, bundles of dried flowers, and soaps with names like Curse Cleanser and Breakup Hex Buster.
“Runa,” he called loudly, voice carrying like a warning bell through the cozy little store. “It’s Ethan. I’m here with the auditor.”
A head poked out from behind a beaded curtain near the back. Runa grinned, her silver buzz cut catching the light. “Well, that sounds ominous. I’ll be right with you!”
Honey was already halfway down the nearest aisle, trailing her fingers over a row of antiseptic creams. She picked up a box, turned it over, read every single word, then moved to the next.
Ethan followed on her heels.
His eyes darted toward a guy in a flannel jacket holding a bottle of suspiciously pink liquid. Ethan knew that tincture. The label claimed it was a “circulatory enhancer,” but the town regulars called it something else entirely.
Ethan moved fast.
“I’ll take that,” he said under his breath, snatching the jar before the guy could argue. “You heard Juniper. No weird magic stuff while the auditor’s in town.”
Without breaking stride, he lobbed the bottle behind the checkout counter and then pivoted smoothly toward Honey. “Maybe I can help you find what you’re looking for,” he said brightly, guiding her with a light nudge toward the safer end of the aisle. “Bandages are just over here.”
She raised a brow but allowed herself to be redirected.
A moment later, Runa stepped through the beaded curtain, wiping her hands on a towel printed with faded suns and moons. “What can I help you find, hun?”
“I’ve got a scrape from some wildlife,” Honey said. “I was hoping for some antiseptic cream.”
“I’ve got just the thing.” Runa turned toward the back wall of the shop.
Ethan’s stomach clenched. “Oh, I’m sure an auditor from the Bureau of Compliance”—he added the title with a pointed look—“would prefer something more standard?—”
But Honey didn’t hear him. She’d stopped in front of a small blue tin.
“Oh,” she said, her voice softening. “This looks just like what my mom used to use.”
She popped the lid open and lifted it to her nose. The moment she inhaled, something in her face shifted. Her eyes went distant, and she sighed. “I’ll take it.”
“What family was your mother from?” Runa asked.
“The Baxter line.”
“And you’re not a witch?”
“Nope. Just a regular old human,” Honey replied casually while Ethan stared, dumbstruck.
“Always interesting how that happens,” Runa said thoughtfully as she wrapped the salve in butcher paper, tucked it into a bag, and handed it to Honey.
“You’re from the Anchor House, I take it?” Honey took the bag and hugged it to her chest.
“The eldest remaining.” Runa grinned. “Not that I’d recommend growing up with five brothers, but it does make you good at healing balms.”
Honey looked intrigued, which only made Ethan’s blood pressure spike harder.
“Fascinating,” she said, and Ethan stepped between her and the back shelf again.
“Hey,” he said, probably too loudly. “They’ve got Band-Aids. Want me to grab some?”
