Lexie reached for it, but Indiana beat her to it grabbing Puckers by its tiny ear and dropping him into a tiny birdcage.
“Where did that come from?” Lexie asked.
Indiana answered with a lifted eyebrow look.
“Right,” Lexie said. “From wherever it was.”
As Indiana strode off to the back room, no doubt to interrogate Puckers, he signaled to one of the O’Rourke detectives. “Take care of the crowd. Wipe any trace of events from their memories.”
“Where are we going?” Luna asked. “The party is in full swing. Don’t you want to stay and celebrate the capture of the unruly pixie?”
“There’s something I have to do.” Lexie stood on the corner outside O’Connor’s. Sprinkling some fairy dust on the palm of her hand, she called on a light breeze to carry the dust and light the way to James Alexander McCarthy. The name had been inscribed on the portrait. When Puckers had admitted to stealing the potion in order to, in his words, balance the books, Lexie had decided to finish the task he’d set out to accomplish.
“Haven’t you learned anything?” Luna asked. “Look at the trouble Puckers’ meddling caused.”
“He didn’t meddle.” The pixie had actually had good intentions. With every passing year, the Crone had been getting crankier and Puckers had decided he’d had enough of her moaning about ruining her chances with James Alexander McCarthy because she’d been under the influence of her own love potion. All these years, she’d believed her love had been unrequited…
Luna blinked. “That’s the part I don’t quite understand. Why did Puckers think he could reunite the couple by spiking people’s drinks? Sorry, I couldn’t help overhearing your thoughts.”
“Jonathan was right. Puckers is nothing but a mischievous little monkey. When he escaped from the Crone’s realm, he got sidetracked, forgot his mission and decided to have some fun instead.” Changing himself to a hairpin, he’d first latched on to Dawn and then he’d hopped over to Rory. A light breeze swirled around her hand, lifted the fairy dust and sent it off wafting ahead of her. “Come on. Let’s follow it.”
Luna balked at the idea. “What if it leads us to Timbuktu?”
“It won’t. How do I know that, do I hear you ask?” Lexie smiled. “I’m guessing James Alexander McCarthy feels the same way about the Crone. We’ll know soon enough. How? I hear you ask.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“Oh, but you were about to. I’m sure.” Lexie hurried her step. The fairy dust reached the street corner and swirled around, almost as if looking to see if they were following. When Lexie and Luna caught up to it, it turned a corner. Half way down the street, it stopped and hovered outside a door. “Here we are. McCarthy, McCarthy and McCarthy. A family business.” Inside, Lexie mentioned James Alexander’s name and they were ushered through to a top floor sitting room. “The building backs onto O’Connor’s bar. I guess we’re about to meet an ancient witch who’s been pining for the Crone.”
“What about the door?” Luna asked.
“It will open for him. Nothing can stand in the way of love. Here he comes.” The man hadn’t aged a day. He looked exactly like his portrait. The moment Lexie mentioned the Crone, James Alexander’s eyes lit up. But then he frowned.
“Is she still in the love potion making business?” he asked.
Lexie wrapped her fingers around the dainty bottle the Crone had given her. It had come without instructions, something that didn’t surprise Lexie. Seeing the spark in James Alexander’s eyes, she didn’t think he needed a shot of love potion. Did the Crone think Lexie could use it on someone else? She shook her head. No…
“At the risk of interfering in something that doesn’t concern me, where you were concerned, the Crone didn’t need a love potion.” Lexie removed the dainty bottle of love potion from her pocked. “She game me this. It’s the only one of its kind.”
He gave a weary sigh and looked out the window. He had been waiting for her all those years, hoping to get another chance with her. Thinking he hadn’t loved her, the Crone had been the one to insist on putting up the door, choosing to lead a solitary, cloistered life rather than face living in the same realm with a man who didn’t love her back.
“She thinks I’m going to ask her to give it all up for me?”
Something told her he wouldn’t do that.
He took the potion. “How is she?”
“I guess you’ll have to see for yourself.”
“How did you know how he felt about the Crone?” Luna asked as they made their way back to the bar.
“I didn’t. Not really.” Lexie shrugged. “I guess sometimes you just have to take a leap of faith.” She looked up and saw Jonathan emerging from the pub.
“To think you could have used the potion on Jonathan,” Luna said.
“Why would I do that? Jonathan is my chronicler. Hey, that reminds me, we need to sneak back inside his inner sanctum and take a look at his chronicle.” Seeing him wave at them, Lexie smiled and waved back. Maybe someday…
Want to read more? Click here to find other books by Sonia Parin.
About the Author
Sonia wrote her first mystery at sixteen and was encouraged to pursue a career in writing. Instead, she listened to her art teacher and earned a B.A. in Fine Arts. She has no idea how as she spent most of her time reading and writing fiction. Further studies followed in information technology and marketing management but she spent most of her time writing stories. After dabbling in the romantic comedy genre, she found her way back home and now writes lighthearted contemporary and paranormal cozy mysteries with quirky characters and fun dialogue.
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Potions and Passions
Amanda A. Allen
Summary
Harper Oaken is abrasive, rude, and is a little too likely to set something on fire. She’s also managed to infuriate a lot of people during her life. She’d never have thought her quiet town would strike out at her through her boyfriend. But that’s just what someone did.
Now it’s up to Harper to discover just who love-potioned half the town into believing they were in love with Quinton. And she’s got to do it before her short fuse blows, and she accidentally sets the town ablaze.
1
“What. In. The…”
Harper paused as she looked through her shop’s front window. A woman in a short red dress, low cut and ruffled around the girls was stomping past, flicking a tear from her cheek. She’d come from Quinton’s shop next door and she was muttering to herself.
Harper opened the door of her shop as the woman rounded the corner of the brick building that housed Harper’s shop, her boyfriend’s bookstore, a little witch shop, and the bakery, Sweeter Things.
Another woman was heading down the block. This one was wearing black leather pants and a red corset top. She’d have looked amazing in a club. She looked off on the cobblestone street of Mystic Cove’s main drag. Harper stared and realized that was Jessie Jones. There was a platter in Jessie’s hand and as their gazes met, Jessie’s widened. Her face paled and the platter dropped before she turned and ran.
“What…the…?” Harper glanced behind her to see who was making Jessie run and realized another woman in a hot pink, low-cut, blouse and tight jeans with rips in all the naughty places was approaching. This one had her hair curled out to her shoulders and she flipped it out and stared Harper down. She felt a little bit like two cats fighting, but Harper had no idea what was going on.
Jessie wouldn’t have run away from Matilda, so why had Jessie run?
And, why, was everyone dressed like a valentine’s hooker? Why were they carrying baked goods? She glanced back down the street and saw Mr. Throdmore and Mr. Jueavas sitting outside Mabel’s diner on a wooden bench. One of them waved her over, but she caught sight of that new witch. The one who’d moved to Mystic Cove from Salem. She was wearing a flowy, innocent dress. Someth
ing good for church covered in tiny, soft-pink hearts. She’d crossed the street before she saw Harper and the new girl stopped in horror as their gazes met.
Harper tucked her red and black hair behind her ear. She felt like she’d missed the notice to dress in costume for Valentine’s. She was wearing black-leggings, one of Quinton’s dress shirts, and black boots. She looked dumpy compared to her usual style, but she’d spent 67 minutes dry-heaving that morning and considered the fact that she’d brushed her hair a real triumph.
Flowy-dress held a red platter in her hands and what looked like a layered coconut cake was placed on it. The top of it had…was that little birds? Lovebirds? Harper glanced back towards pink blouse and then over to where Jessie had abandoned her cookies. And then Harper just knew. This was one of Mystic Cove’s weird…mating rituals and she felt a distinct chill. Sweeter Things was owned by her sister Scarlett. Tessa owned the witch shop. The only place around here that was owned by a man was the one the weeper had left.
Quinton’s.
“Oh no,” she muttered and then cursed. She opened the door of Quinton’s bookstore and gaped.
They wouldn’t.
They couldn’t.
This town knew her. They’d heard the rumors of her…exploits. Those weren’t exaggerated. They…they….they had to guess, at least. If Harper would unleash wrath for her sisters or her nieces—what did they expect for Harper’s true love? Soulmate and red-thread? The baby-daddy of her little parasite? And yet…as she glanced around Quinton’s bookshop, she realized…no one seemed to care.
It had been the smell that hit her first. As soon as she’d opened the glass door. Sweet and cloying. Like waffles and cream cheese. She wanted to puke. Scents were bugging her a lot lately though, and this scent didn’t have the grace to combine itself with bacon and savory breads like over at the bakery.
No. Oh. No. She cursed, her gaze narrowed as it darted around the bookstore looking for Quinton. Someone was going to pay, and it just might be him if he were eating one of those dark chocolate cupcakes with the pink frosting covered in hand-poured chocolate hearts.
Usually when she walked into the bookshop, she only found Quinton. The store was almost always deserted. Her tall, slim, nerdy love would be researching something in one of those old tomes or possibly playing an online game. Something with scholarly wizards and dragons. He was such a delightful nerd.
He’d look up, push his glasses back with an index finger, and cross to her. His eyes would glint a little as they always did when they saw her—and only her. She loved the way she was the only one who’d even noticed his fire. Even still, he’d only wrap his arm around her as if they were just friends. Maybe, if no one were around, he’d kiss her on her cheek or tangle their fingers together. The fire didn’t come until they were well and truly alone.
In front of her was all the evidence. A card table littered with pastries as though the bakery had infected the bookshop. The table was crowded with trays of heart-shaped cookies, red velvet cake, dark chocolate fudge, and other random things. Some of the plates were even hanging precariously off the edge, and crumbs on the floor told Harper that a few things had already met their demise.
How had she missed all the deliveries? How had she missed women trotting by with fake lashes and glitter on their cheeks? They must have gone by her shop. No…they wouldn’t have. They’d have circled and been careful when they left. Sneaking away before Harper could see who was attempting to steal Quinton away.
The last time she’s seen this, she’d leaned back and enjoyed the show. But Harper had known that Lex, Mystic Cove’s new sheriff, had been smitten with her sister. When Mystic Cove’s single women realized he was around to stay their heads had perked up like rabid meerkats. They’d turned as one and attacked him with their pushup bras, short skirts, and baked goods. High-pitched controlled voices and fluttering eyelashes.
Scarlett—who owned the bakery—hadn’t even tried to catch him with her mom-bun, flour-covered leggings, old t-shirts, and the utter refusal to give him an inch. Harper grinned at the thought until she realized they were doing the same to her Quinton. It was possible that this pastry-strewn table was karma.
Quinton, unlike the sheriff, was sneaky in his attractiveness. You had to stop and take another look and then you couldn’t quite remember why he didn’t catch your interest the first few times around. Add that to his general quietness, Quinton had slid under the radar of Mystic Cove single women and Harper—well…she wouldn’t use the words snatched him up. She’d more bludgeoned Quinton and dragged him home.
They’d been dating for months now. Far too long for this crap to be happening.
Harper would have cut and run before now, but she could never quite let him go. Regardless of not letting him go, Harper, Quinton, Lex, and Scarlett had all fallen victims to the same fertility charm. And…well…Harper wasn’t going to run while also knocked up. There no way she’d be single mom. Let alone…she did love Quinton. The baby was an anchor for Harper. The little puke-inducing infestation weighed her down and made her confront her trauma rather than trying to escape.
She heard a bit of a squeak and looked around. Maybe Quinton was hiding from her? They both knew she had a wide dash of crazy, and he hated to hurt her. He might try to sneak away until she had time to think things through…but he wasn’t in sight. The hunt was on.
2
Harper noted the “Take One” written on a card in Quinton’s precise handwriting. She was mildly appeased. She would, of course, still torture Quinton. These love-thieves were coming at Quinton with her weakness. She could not, would not cook. Let alone bake. She didn’t do dishes, she invested in paper plates. The entirety of her pantry was coffee, tea, oatmeal, and whatever she had stolen from her sister’s bakery. Every other edible thing in her apartment had been purchased by Quinton.
That evil voice in the back of her head reminded her that she wasn’t good enough. That no one had ever wanted her before her mom and sister. Quinton was going to wake up one day, look over, and realize the mess he’d hooked up with. He was going to see himself as a victim of that fertility charm that had linked him to Harper Psycho Oaken, and he was going to well and truly take off.
She didn’t do anything normal. She set things on fire. A lot. She…No! She wasn’t going to do this to herself again. She glanced down at the baked goods. Someone was going to pay. She crossed to the glass checkout counter. Quinton wasn’t there, but a slew of cards were. She’d be taking those, she thought, as she shoved them in her bag. And still no Quinton. He’d have heard the bell…where was he? She headed towards the back of the bookstore.
Her knowing was whispering, but she ignored the druid in her. She hadn’t been reading that ability right for a while now. Listening to something spewing gibberish at her was no more helpful than listening to news delivered in Spanish.
The swinging door between the shop and the storage room read Staff Only. She glanced around and heard him clearing his throat. Finally.
“Qu—” She started but before the sound even carried her eyes were narrowing on the scene before her. Her heart froze and rush of fury moved over her like the flames of one of her fires before she realized just exactly what she was seeing.
Quinton was pressed against the back wall of the storage room with a woman in front of him. Her long blonde hair was perfectly straight and smooth like a swathe of silk. Her dress was so short Harper was sure if Molly Flanagan bent over, Harper would be getting a glimpse of whatever was under that scrap of cloth that was pretending to be a skirt.
Harper’s head cocked, and she watched as Quinton frantically swallowed. The panic in his gaze made her lips twitch. His hands were pressed against the wall behind him, his face turned away, and his breathing was ragged. He was well and truly cornered.
Molly was gorgeous. Quinton was a man. He had eyes. And he might love Harper. Maybe. Possibly. It was hard to believe he did—even with all the times he’d told her. Even with all the ways he’d show
n her. She was too well aware she was a train wreck. He even knew it. He promised her every day that she’d start believing he’d stay eventually and until then he’d remind her. She could see how someone all put together like Molly would appeal.
“Um, Molly, I…”
Molly ran her finger up Quinton’s chest. He swallowed and Harper watched his adam’s apple bob. He cleared his throat against a little more frantically, almost like a gerbil on helium as Molly pressed her body against him. He shuddered a little bit. Harper laughed silently at him. He was such a damsel in distress right then.
“I don’t think I ever noticed how manly you were, Quinton,” Molly said, breathily pressing harder against Quinton, her hands roving his arms, squeezing here and there. He squeaked. “Your eyes are so…round.”
Harper snorted at that and Quinton heard it, glancing her way. The panic in his gaze heightened to something akin to torture. She leaned against the door jamb and crossed her shiny combat boot over the ankle of the other. Slowing raising a brow at him, she smirked when she saw his already outstanding blush burn to forest fire levels.
“Harper…” He started, trying and failing to slide away from Molly. “I…”
“You’re just so…” Molly didn’t finish, she ran her finger along the edge of his jaw, and Quinton tried and failed again to escape again. Molly leaned in and sniffed him.
Harper had to bite back another laugh when Quinton squeaked.
“Help,” he croaked, his pleading gaze fixed on Harper while he tried to dodge Molly’s roving index finger. It was the coughed, “Please” that got Harper to step in.
Harper tucked some of her red and black hair behind her ear and with what was certainly her wickedest smile, crossed to Molly, grabbed her index finger and used it to twist her arm behind her back.
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