“How so?”
“It doesn’t melt.”
“Really?” I said and drew back my bucket. I’d rather serve tepid drinks than accidentally poison my patrons.
“It’s not harmful,” he said, noting my hesitation.
“What am I going to do with a bunch of dirty ice that won’t melt?”
“It’ll melt eventually, and if you apply cold to it, then by some strange alchemy, it will reform again.” He made a swishing gesture with his hand as if casting a spell.
“So, it’s water?” I concluded.
“Water blessed by an elemental sorceress from the Northern Realm and therefore, enchanted.”
I really didn’t have time for this nonsense, especially since I suspected he was just trying to price gouge me. I didn't have a prejudice against magic, per se, but I’d seen a lot of spells go wrong, and since I had no casting abilities myself, I always felt like I was at a disadvantage when dealing with these slick wizarding types.
I was considering turning tail and leaving when the bell on the glass door jingled and in walked my other vexation, one Skylar Larkspur wearing scandalously short cut-offs and a sleeveless crop top that said, “Fae boys do it better.” It goes without saying that I wished to test the validity of that claim.
He propped his heart-shaped sunglasses on top of his head and blew a bubble nearly the size of his face before sucking it back into his mouth, sweeping his wet tongue across his pink lips in a salacious way. And as he performed these lingual gymnastics, he steadily eyed me up and down, taking his timewith it, not bothering to hide his interest. He was a bold one. His makeup from last night was smeared, giving his eyes a smoky quality that I thought rather fetching, though quite honestly, he could be wearing a feed sack over his head and I’d still find him attractive.
“Daddy,” he purred, flashing me that cheeky, dimpled grin. “We meet again?”
“Hiero,” I reminded him. “Hiero Wolfsbane.”
“Mr. Wolfsbane,” he said with a formal bow, clearly mocking me. “What brings you to The Magic Shop this fine morning?”
It was closer to afternoon than morning, but I didn’t remark on it. “I need ice,” I said, and then to The Owner, “The old-fashioned kind. Not this enchanted stuff.”
Skylar strolled over to the ice machine and pressed the button, collecting a few cubes in his hand and pressing them to his forehead, his cheeks, and then to his lips. “Tastes like normal ice to me, though perhaps a little sweeter.”
“Blessed by the sorceress,” The Owner said with a flourish.
Needing something to do with my hands, I thrust one bucket under the spout and pressed the button. The machine belched up ice until the bucket was full. I popped one of the cubes into my mouth, thinking it did have a mild sweetness to it. Meanwhile, Skylar had turned his attention to The Owner.
“I’d like three prickly pears and five mallow fruits, a dozen of those saffron sticks if you’ve got them, and three honey cakes but only if they’re fresh.” He placed a bit of gold on thecounter, the same earring that had belonged to the ogre from last night. “And a six-pack of Mind Eraser, if you please?”
“That’s a strong drink,” I said. We had a one-bottle-per-customer rule at Church due to its potency.
“I have a lot of memories that need erasing,” he said, looking somewhat melancholy. “And since someone forbade me from entering their bar…”
I nodded at the evidence of his thievery. “There’s your reason right there.”
“You can’t prove that I stole it,” he said tartly. “It might have been a gift for all you know. You assume that just because I’m a guildless fae that I would resort to theft?”
I didn’t know what he meant by “guildless fae,” as much of their customs were a mystery to me, though I did know he was a smooth talker.
“What might’ve happened if one of those ogres realized what you’d done and decided to take it out on your pretty face?” I asked.
“I would have simply offered up something else to soothe their anger,” Skylar said.
Lust rose within me, savage and sharp-toothed, as my fantasies from the morning played out behind my eyes–Skylar spread eagle, fingering his hole for my pleasure; Skylar bent over my bar, getting plowed from behind; Skylar wearing a cock cage with tears in his eyes, begging me to take it off and allow him to come.
My carnal thoughts were interrupted by the thunk of a six-pack on the counter and a paper bag containing the various vittles he’d ordered. The Owner held the gold band up to a watery beam of light that suddenly sliced through the shop, then bit on it to determine its authenticity. Nodding, he disappeared the trinket from sight.
“Listen,” Skylar said, turning toward me again. “I know I didn’t make the best first impression, but if you’ll give me another chance, I promise not to accept any more gifts from strangers.”
“That’s what we’re calling it now?” I asked tightly.
