Poetry in Potion, page 6
part #5 of Spellbound Ever After Series
“Bryan,” I said, more softly this time. “I’m sure everyone would understand if you closed the stall and went home to make arrangements.”
He shook his head adamantly. “You don’t understand,” he said. “We owe money to the World Market organizers. They gave us a loan so that Claire could work on her inventions. If I don’t fulfill our obligations here, then I could lose the entire business and they can still sue me for the money we owe. I can’t afford not to be here.”
My heart ached for him. How could he possibly focus on selling anything right now? I would be curled up in a ball and sobbing until my eyeballs popped out of their sockets.
“I can’t let Claire down,” he mumbled. “This business was everything to her.”
“Would you mind answering a few questions about your wife?” I asked.
He peered at me. “Are you some kind of reporter?”
“No, I’m not a reporter. I’m a lawyer.” I didn’t have the heart to tell him I was representing Louisa. The poor guy was dealing with enough right now.
“Why do you want to ask questions about my wife then?” he asked. “Did the company send you? They’ve already decided to sue us, haven’t they?”
I noticed that he said ‘us.’ The reality of her death still hadn’t really hit him. “I don’t represent a company.” I heaved a sigh, realizing that I had to come clean. “I represent Louisa Loomis.”
It took a moment for the information to register. “You’re defending Claire’s murderer?” He seemed confused.
“Well, Louisa was arrested, but we don’t know yet whether she’s the murderer. Nothing has been proven.”
His gaze darted to the empty stall next door. “Such a sweet gal. I can’t imagine that she really had anything to do with Claire’s murder. It’s true that Claire was unkind to her, but the truth is that Claire was unkind to everyone, except me.” He looked me in the eye. “I’m sure I shouldn’t say that about my own wife but I’m not a fool. I know her behavior could be… challenging.”
That was an understatement. “Do you think your wife’s behavior made her any enemies?”
“Oh, I would imagine so. Claire had a habit of insulting others. Most were too intimidated to say anything, but there have been a few who dared to stand up to her.”
“Care to tell me about any of them?”
“Well, our family for starters. We don’t speak to anyone on either side anymore,” he admitted. “Too many arguments at the holidays. We stopped getting invited to dinners and celebrations ages ago.”
“That's too bad,” I said. “It can be difficult when family members don’t get along. It puts a strain on the whole family.” Not that I had much experience in that department. I never had enough family members in the human world to worry about them fighting with each other.
“Claire and I had each other and that was what mattered most.”
“Are any of your family members here?”
He scraped his nail against the stubble on his chin. “No, I suppose not. Sorry, I was just thinking that I’ll need to contact them. I wonder how they’ll react to the news. It’ll probably be one more celebration I’m not invited to.”
“Oh, Bryan. That’s awful.” Claire must have burned every bridge behind them. “What about others here aside from Louisa? Any recent altercations with anyone that you can tell me about?”
Bryan scanned the stalls within view in an effort to jog his memory. “I can name three off the top of my head. Horatio Armstrong.” He pointed to the next aisle over. “We’ve done a few markets with him. He and Claire butted heads more times than I can count.”
“Any recent incidents?”
“First day of the market, in fact,” Bryan replied. “Horatio mentioned to us in passing that he was missing some inventory, which is somewhat of an issue because he’s known for making certain types of potions that maybe he shouldn’t, if you catch my meaning. Anyway, Claire took it as an accusation and started yelling at him.” He stuffed his handkerchief back into his pocket. “She had a tendency to fly off the handle.”
“Do you think it’s possible Horatio was making a veiled accusation?”
Bryan shook his head. “In my experience, Horatio simply says what he’s thinking. Claire saw an insult in everything he said and jumped on it.”
“How about the other two?” I asked.
“Roy Zapf. His stall is on the other side of the square. A toymaker. Claire broke one of his toys the first day of the market and instead of apologizing, she accused him of faulty craftsmanship.”
I closed my eyes in disbelief. Louisa was right. Claire sounded like a miserable creature. I had a feeling she would only be missed by her husband. “And the third?”
Bryan lowered his voice this time. “A vampire. Katerina Groome. She runs the stall that sells that fizzy, flavored vampire blood.”
“Why didn’t they get along?” I asked.
“I don’t know the reason for that one,” he said. “I only know that Claire complained about her and, when Claire said one name often enough, I knew there was an issue.” He swallowed hard. “If you speak to Katerina, would you mind not mentioning my name? I’m a little skittish around vampires. Claire always made sure our stall was as far away from them as possible.”
It sounded like the best place for Claire’s stall was on a deserted island. “No problem. Is that why you’re whispering? You’re afraid of being overheard?”
“They have vampire hearing,” he whispered.
“No kidding,” I said. “Try living with one.”
He frowned. “I thought your husband is the angel.”
“Oh, he is. I’m talking about our roommate.” I didn’t bother to get into details. My relationship with Gareth wasn’t always easy for others to understand. “I appreciate your time, Bryan. Let me ask you this—if I’m able to find someone to work your stall, would you be willing to go back to the Harpy’s Nest and rest?”
He gazed at me in wonder. “You would do that for me? Why?”
“Because it's a decent thing to do,” I replied. “You’ve suffered a tragic loss. I don’t know what I would do if something happened to Daniel. I certainly wouldn’t be firing on all cylinders.”
Tears glistened in his eyes. “I would definitely take you up on that, but please don’t feel obligated.”
I gave the counter a gentle tap. “Just leave it with me, Bryan. I’ll have somebody here within half an hour.”
I worked my way crowd and grabbed the first familiar face that I saw. “Millie! I need your help.”
Millie stood in front of one of the cosmetics stalls admiring her eye makeup in the mirror. “Can’t you see I’m busy perfecting perfection?”
I rolled my eyes. “You can see that’s a magic mirror, right? That’s not your actual reflection.”
Millie dropped the makeup brush and faced me. “What’s the emergency? Unless that baby is about to make an appearance, I’m busy.”
“You heard about the woman who was killed here, right?”
Millie nodded. “She was killed by a jealous competitor. That’s what I heard.”
“Okay, I don’t know about that, but whatever the case may be, her husband is being forced to tend to the stall right now instead of grieving in peace. I told him I’d try to find someone to help him out so that he can spend time alone.”
Millie appeared baffled. “You expect me to work for free for a stranger selling something that has no interest to me?”
“That’s right.”
She cocked her head. “And why would I do that?”
“Because you’re a good witch,” I replied. “And I’d consider it a favor to me. I promise I’ll try to find others to pitch in so that it’s not just you all day. As soon as I find Daniel, I can put him on the case.”
Millie gave me a sour look. “Point me in the right direction.”
I threw my arms around her. “Thank you. I really appreciate your help with this.”
“Make sure you mention it to the High Priestess. I want this to go toward points so I can earn my merit badge.” One of the recent changes to the coven was the addition of a points system where witches and wizards could earn merit badges through good deeds and achievements.
“I promise,” I said. I decided not to highlight that the whole point of merit badges was to do kind things for the sake of them, rather than for a self-serving purpose. I had my first helper and that was all that was important right now.
“The stall is almost at the end of this row on the right-hand side. The owner is Bryan Cronk.” I placed a hand on her shoulder. “Please be sensitive. His wife was just murdered.”
Millie scrunched her nose. “When am I ever not sensitive?” She looked me up and down. “You should really stop giving hugs by the way. You’re liable to pop someone’s lung.”
My lips formed a thin line. “You always know the right thing to say, Millie.”
I continued down the aisle in search of another helper and was relieved to glimpse Daniel’s wings up ahead. Although I tried to move a little faster through the crowd, it was proving difficult in my current condition. Another familiar face intercepted me before I could reach my husband.
“Alex. You’re the perfect guy for the job.”
“That sounds far too complimentary,” the werewolf said with a smile. “What’s the job?”
I explained the situation quickly.
“No problem,” he said. “I’m more than happy to coordinate with Millie and take over when she’s finished her shift.”
“Thank you so much, Alex. You’re the best.”
“Always happy to help out a friend,” he said. “I imagine you’re going to need a lot of help soon.” His gaze dropped to my belly.
“Don't worry. I have plenty of help in that department. Gareth alone counts for like ten helping hands.”
Alex laughed. “Well, I’ve been spending a little time in your neck of the woods, so I’d be more than willing to stop by whenever you need a fresh pair of hands. I love kids.”
“So does that mean you and Darcy are officially dating?” I asked. Darcy Minor lived next door with the rest of her harpy family. The uptight blonde was a surprising choice for Alex, but they seemed to complement each other. I just hoped the rest of the harpies didn’t manage to scare him off. They could be an intimidating bunch when they wanted to be.
“We’re not hiding our relationship,” he admitted, “but we’re not exactly shouting it from the rooftops either.”
“Why not? Because of Octavia?” Octavia was the matriarch of the harpy family and the toughest nut to crack.
He gave the aisle a careful look before responding. “More like Lorenzo.” Lorenzo Mancini was the head of the werewolf pack.
“I thought the pack was trying to be more open-minded about diversity,” I said.
He rubbed the scruff along his jawline. “Baby steps, Emma. We can’t change Rome in a day, you know?”
“No, you’re right. I’m just glad to hear things are going well between you two. I really like Darcy.”
I left Alex and continued toward Daniel, who was now engaged in conversation with someone at the puppet stall. Before I could get there, I was intercepted again. This time by none other than Phoebe Minor, Darcy’s aunt. “I’m surprised to see you here,” I said to the older harpy.
“And miss all of these handsome visitors? I wouldn’t dream of it.”
I noticed the purple flyer in her hand that gave the details about the poetry slam. “Are you thinking of going to that?”
“Going? I’m thinking of participating.”
I fought the urge to laugh. The last thing I wanted to do was inadvertently mock a harpy. “You write poetry, Phoebe? And here I thought your talents were limited to the harp.”
“I have a lot of talents, Hart. Most them I save for the opposite sex.”
“Well, I will definitely be there to cheer you on at the poetry slam. I’m going to have to participate, too. I promised Gareth that I’d recite one of his poems.”
Darcy snickered. “I can only imagine how gloomy that’s going to be. Good luck spouting words of doom and gloom, Miss Sunshine.”
“Thank you for the words of encouragement.”
“When’s that baby going to be born anyway? I’m tired of watching you waddle around. If there was ever a flood, you’d be the first thing I grabbed.”
“Oh, Phoebe. That’s so sweet of you to say.”
She looked at me like I had two heads. “I don’t mean to save you. I mean to use you as a raft.”
My expression crumpled and Phoebe laughed. “You know I don’t mean that. I have wings. I would just fly away.”
I decided against asking for Phoebe’s help with Bryan’s stall. It seemed like too big of an ask for the harpy.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to speak to my husband before he disappears.”
“What? You think he’s planning on leaving you now that he’s knocked you up?”
I reeled back. “No, of course not. I just mean disappears into the crowd right now. Stars and stones, Phoebe. Your head sure goes to a dark place quickly.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
I continued toward Daniel and managed to catch up with him before anyone else could interrupt me.
“If it isn’t my beautiful wife.” He encircled me with his arms and I leaned against him, inhaling his familiar scent. The moment was heavenly.
“Are you busy? I could use your help with something.”
“Never too busy for you.” He smiled and guided me away from the stall, which was a relief because the puppets were undeniably creepy. “What’s up?”
As I explained Bryan’s need for coverage, Daniel listened with a solemn expression.
“Absolutely,” he said. “Consider it done.”
I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him. “I knew I could count on you. You’re the best.”
“Only because I learned from the best.” He placed a gentle hand on my stomach. “How are you feeling? How’s our beautiful hybrid?”
“I feel more swollen, that’s for sure,” I replied. “And a little tired.”
He inclined his head. “A little tired? Knowing you, I should interpret that as exhaustion.”
“What are you trying to say, that I underplay the way I feel?”
“You definitely don’t like to admit weakness.”
“That’s because I’m a woman and we’re tough,” I said.
He poked my side with his finger. “You’re also pretty soft and curvy. It’s an appealing combination to be honest.”
“Why, Mr. Starr, are you flirting with me?”
He grinned. “Hard not to when you look as good as you do.”
“Get a room,” someone called.
We laughed and Daniel kissed me again. “Let’s make a plan for tonight, shall we? I’ll meet you in the living room for dinner and a movie. Pajamas optional.”
“According to Gareth, pajamas downstairs are non-negotiable.” I smiled demurely. “But you’ve got yourself a date, Flying Hot Guy.”
And just like that, I didn’t feel so tired anymore.
Chapter Eight
Sheriff Astrid and I met at a new diner called Stake-n-Shake. Apparently, it was a popular franchise in paranormal towns across the country and an enterprising resident decided to bring the specialized fare to Spellbound. It had a fun, Fifties vibe, with servers on roller-skates and the option to be served in your vehicle. The council had unanimously approved the plans because it didn’t interfere with the overall look and feel of the historic town. Mayor Lucy had invited me to the ribbon-cutting ceremony, but I’d been too exhausted to leave the house that day and Gareth had forbade me to go anywhere except the bathroom. I suspected that he would have prevented that, too, if the consequences weren’t so unpleasant for both of us.
“Are you going to eat all that?” Astrid asked.
I looked down at my plate…okay, my multiple plates. “I couldn’t decide between the breakfast and lunch options. The choices were too tempting.” The owner had incorporated some human diner staples into the menu, so right next to the guava and mulberry blood shake were blueberry pancakes with a side of either bacon or sausage.
Astrid leaned forward to examine my food. “What are those?” She pointed her fork at one of my side plates.
“Sausage links,” I said. “I was sorely tempted by the patties, but links are my favorite.” I cut a piece and chewed it slowly, savoring each bite. “It’s a real conundrum for me because I love pigs. They’re so intelligent, but I’d developed a taste for sausage long before I realized pigs were awesome.” It sounded like an excuse, even to my own ears. If I really wanted to change, I had to hunker down and do it.
“They’re food,” Astrid said simply. “We had a variation of your sausage links. Ours were fatter and a slightly different color.” She continued to watch me eat. “Could I try one? They look delicious.”
I nearly replied with ‘pregnant Emma doesn’t share food,’ but stopped myself. I pushed the plate closer to her. “Sure.”
Astrid bit down on the sausage and I could see the enjoyment spread from her mouth to the rest of her face.
“I bet you’re regretting that healthy smoothie now,” I said, which was exactly what I knew I should be having. As I told Gareth, the baby doesn’t want a green machine smoothie. The baby wants fatty, delicious meat. And chocolate. And popcorn with so much butter that I had to lick it off my fingers afterward.
Astrid gave her smoothie a look of disgust and resentment. “Let’s talk about something else. I should have the official report on Claire Cronk for you by the end of the day.”
I practically inhaled a pancake. “Can you at least tell me what kind for potion was found in her system?”
“A poison one.”
“Thanks, Sherlock. I figured out that much.”
Astrid sucked the smoothie through her paper straw, which had already started to soften. “We need Quinty to invent magic straws. Paper straws aren’t up to the task.” She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “It’s a rare one called the Poison Dart.”
