The wizard’s smile faltered slightly. “I’m not sure I understand, Miss.”
“Like, for example, someone who experienced a trauma,” I said, hoping I wasn’t coming across as someone cooking up some terrible scheme. I gave a nervous smile and leaned in closer. “I can’t really give away the details, but I have a friend who’s been through something she would rather forget. Permanently.”
The wizard’s eyes flashed with recognition. I had no idea what scenario he’d conjured up in his mind, but whatever it was, it seemed to serve my purpose because he held up a stumpy finger. “I see. One moment please.”
He ducked into the back room of the shop and I took a moment to look over his work space. Potion masters did most of their work behind closed doors because potion making was a rare gift and was closely guarded and cloaked in secrecy. However, there were occasions when someone would request a special customization and potion masters would oblige right there on the spot and make some kind of alteration. This shop keeper was extremely neat and tidy; there wasn’t a trace of the prior day’s work on his counter. The ledger he’d been working on showed neat rows of figures. From the short glance I took, it looked as though business was drying up slightly. Each day appeared to have fewer and fewer sales as the month had wandered on. Once again I wanted to ask him about the Praxle fiasco.
He returned moments later with a vial that contained a silver liquid that almost looked like mercury in the way it swirled and moved inside the container. “This is a memory potion that can temporarily alleviate unpleasant memories.”
He passed me the vial and I tipped it one way and then back again, mesmerized by the way it moved. “What are the ingredients?” I asked, wondering if I’d be able to guess them as he listed them off. Some kind of potion nerd challenge.
“The base is a syrup made from distilled hyssop. Then there are a number of herbs added to that base. Most prominently hydrangea root and juniper bark.”
“Hydrangea root and hyssop? Is that wise?” I lifted an eyebrow and watched the rippling liquid as I rolled the vial between my fingers. “Aren’t you worried about the interaction?”
The wizard was studying me with a wary look. “I thought you said you didn’t know much about potions?”
Bat wings.
Potion work was instilled in me so deeply that I hadn’t even thought twice before blurting out my concerns.
I smiled sweetly and gave a little shrug. “I know a few things.” It was an absurdly thin cover-up. While most witches and wizards knew basic botanical ingredients, knowing the interactions between different plant elements was far from common knowledge.
The wizard gave a slow, unconvinced nod. “It’s a temporary solution. As I’m sure you know,” he continued coldly, “mind magic is extremely advanced and is better suited to spell work rather than potions.”
“Right.” I frowned and set the vial down on the counter to fish out my wallet. “How does this work?”
“The first time the potion is dispensed, the person—your friend—must be focusing on the memories they would like banished. Then, consume one drop. That helps the potion bind to those specific memories. After that, the maintenance dose is a single drop every day. It’s available in a capsule formula. Some people prefer that as they can simply sneak it in with their daily vitamins and not be forced to dwell on the reason for taking it. Eventually, say after a week or so of consistent use, the memories will be hidden deep enough that they won’t surface even if the next day’s dose is off by an hour or so. Of course, the biggest problem with this type of potion is that at some point the user forgets why they even have it and stop taking it altogether.”
“Right … .” I tried to mask the disappointment in my voice. I’d been hoping for something far less complicated. Even if I could find a way to give Nick the first dose while he was consciously focusing on the night of the raid, there was no way I would be able to slip him a drop or pill every day at the same time for the rest of his life.
“If the potion is stopped abruptly the results can be disastrous.”
“How so?”
“The bound memories build and build and come rushing back in a way that is far more damaging than if they’re dealt with gradually, over time. Almost like a monsoon after a dry spell.”
I cringed.
The potions master picked up the vial. “Would you still like to try it?”
I considered the silver liquid and then shook my head. “I’m not sure it would work for what I need.”
The wizard slipped the vial into the pocket of his robe. “It’s certainly not a hot seller,” he conceded. He glanced around the shop, his eyes tracking Adam for a moment before he leaned in closer. “My advice would be to tell your friend to seek out someone who is experienced with mind magic. You’ll have to look carefully. As I’m sure you know, it’s frowned upon and not something advertised in the Herald. Just be careful, Miss. There are a lot of crooks out there.”
“Right. Well thank you anyway. I appreciate your time.”
He nodded and ducked back into the back room. I sulked by myself for a minute, then rejoined Adam. He was inspecting a series of potions that looked similar to the line of hair products Evangeline and I had created for her to sell at her day spa. Adam had a head full of dark locks and took them very seriously. He glanced over at me and held up a bottle. “You and Evie should try to sell your stuff here,” he said. “Your packaging is better by a mile, and get a whiff of this stuff.” He held out the bottle. “It smells like something I would find to roll in out in the forest.”
I wrinkled my nose and gingerly accepted the bottle. I’d already decided that if Adam and I ever cohabitated, he would be responsible for his own post-shift laundry.
I took the bottle and sniffed at the contents. Adam laughed when I recoiled. “Bat wings! What in the Otherworld is in this?” I twisted the bottle, looking for a list of ingredients, but nothing was listed. I’d picked up the habit from living in the human world where everything was neatly labeled. I’d forgotten that in the haven it was rare to find specifics like that. Apparently labels ruined the mystique.
Adam took the bottle back and set it on the shelf. “Should we go? What time are you meeting Harriet?”
I started to answer but was interrupted by the melodic chime of the door opening. The potion master appeared from the back with a wide smile for his new customer. “Morning, O’Doul,” he called out brightly.
I glanced over my shoulder but didn’t recognize the tall man who walked in. He had the stately walk of someone important and I immediately decided he was a wizard. In the haven, those with the most pomp were wizards and witches, who were, for better or worse, at the top of the pecking order in the supernatural community. They’d founded the council, written the laws, and were the ones responsible for the creation of the hidden worlds locked behind the safety of the intricate and powerful charms and enchantments that keep the supernatural population hidden in plain sight in major cities all over the world. It was impressive, but I’d never quite related to the air of superiority that some exuded like cheap perfume.
“Brought your paper in,” the tall wizard said, handing it over the counter to the shop owner. “Look who’s front page news again.”
I watched the shop keeper’s reaction, surprised when a snarl marred his kindly face. “He’s lucky he’s locked up in SPA custody or I’d hunt him down myself.”
I glanced at Adam. He didn’t appear to be paying attention but I knew him well enough to know his ear was perked in their direction.
“Trust me, there’s a lot of us who will be after him, wands blazing, if he manages to wiggle his way out from under the council’s wrath,” the tall wizard said.
“I don’t know if things here will hold until then,” the potion master said quietly. “Things are in a complete free fall right now. I’ve slashed prices as much as I possibly can, but I can’t compete with the cheap garbage they’ve flooded the market with.”
“I know. It�
�s an all-too-common story. Hilda Clairmont was in my office a few days ago. The shop where she’d been selling her potions since this whole mess started has canceled over half of the orders they’ve placed. Said they weren’t moving enough of them to keep up that pace.”
“Poor Hilda.”
“Shame about Colepepper too.”
My heart leapt into my throat.
“Yes. After all the hard work of getting this case before the council, he won’t be here to see the fruit of his efforts.” The potion master made a noise as though he were clearing his throat. “I appreciate you bringing this by. Let me go get your order.”
The tall wizard thanked him and wandered to the opposite end of the store to browse while the potion master disappeared into the back room yet again.
Adam took my elbow and steered me toward the door. As we passed the front counter, I glanced over and caught the headline and accompanying picture on the Haven Herald:
PRAXLE CASE HEADS INTO DAY EIGHT. WILL THERE BE A VERDICT?
Underneath was a shot of a smarmy-looking business man. His dark hair was slicked back mobster-style and he held a thick cigar between two slender fingers. He was grinning as though he’s just shared a dirty joke with the person wielding the camera. A sick feeling curled in the pit of my stomach and my skin crawled; I was grateful when Adam led me out of the shop and I could get a breath of fresh air.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
At half past eleven, I was sitting in the lobby of Harvey’s office, waiting for Harriet to get off the phone. Even from across the room, I could see that it looked like she hadn’t slept for days. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and her skin had a gray pallor and lacked its usual rosy hue. I’d been waiting for nearly half an hour. Her phone was ringing off the hook but she’d promised that if I could hang around a little longer, she had a replacement coming in to take over for her. Eventually, a petite woman with sleek black hair, square-rimmed glasses, and a pert nose sashayed into the office and relieved Harriet. The two women exchanged soft words and then Harriet grabbed her purse and headed away from the reception desk.
“I’m sorry, Holly. Things here have been crazy.”
I inclined my head. “I can imagine. How are you holding up?”
She shrugged but her eyes glossed over and she blinked rapidly to clear the unshed tears before they could slip down her cheeks. “It’s different here without him. He could drive me mad sometimes, but now I find that I miss those moments the most.”
“I’m so sorry, Harriet,” I said, reaching for her hand.
She smiled softly. “I imagine you can relate.”
“Yes,” I replied with a quiet laugh. “It always felt like we were on opposite ends of the table. But now, looking back, I can see it all a little more clearly.”
Harriet wiped at her eyes. “Would you like to get a coffee? I have half an hour if you’d like. I wasn’t sure exactly what you wanted to discuss. I know your lawyer is hoping for some kind of notes or documentation as to what Harvey planned to say in his testimony at the council hearing, but I’m afraid I haven’t been able to find anything yet.”
“Thank you for looking. I would certainly appreciate anything you can find, but that’s actually not why I’m here.” I looked past her shoulder to where her replacement was now fielding the firestorm of phone calls and felt a guilty pang. “I should have called ahead.”
She flapped a hand. “Don’t worry about it. Come on; there’s a cafe on the first floor where we won’t be disturbed. It’s the kind of place where everyone minds their own business.”
I smiled. “That must be nice. I can’t think of a place in Beechwood Harbor where people aren’t listening in on everything. Gossip is the lifeblood that keeps the town running.”
Harriet returned my smile and led the way to the elevator in the center of the building. SPA headquarters was a strange clash of the past and the present. The offices themselves were stately and held a certain old-world charm. The SPA didn’t use computers or internet databases for record keeping or data storage. Instead, everything was written down and meticulously stored in a complicated filing system that required a horde of assistants to keep orderly. Wards were applied to the different documents to maintain the security of information. Agents had to be of a certain security level to release the wards. It was a system that worked similarly to the FBI. Clearance levels were assigned to specific supers and only they were able to access more sensitive information. It worked well, had for hundreds of years, but after spending so much time in the human world, it was a stark contrast to the technology-obsessed culture I now lived in. Even the oldest citizens of Beechwood Harbor would be lost without their smart phones and home computers.
“Do you like living with the humans?” Harriet asked as we stepped onto a waiting elevator. They were powered by magic and were virtually silent, lacking the shudder and swoop of mechanical elevators. That was one area where the haven had the upper hand. I could still remember the first time I’d ridden in a human elevator. I thought the other passengers were going to have to peel me off the ceiling before we’d even ascended a single floor.
“I do,” I replied with a nod. The doors slid closed and we glided down to the first floor with hardly a quiver. “I didn’t think I would. Before Harvey sent me away, I’d only ventured into the human world on a handful of occasions. But now, after a year away, it almost feels like culture shock to come back to the haven. I hadn’t expected that.”
The doors slid open and a cluster of supers moved aside to let Harriet and me out before they piled into the empty shell. Harriet pointed and I followed her to a quaint cafe around the corner from the elevators and the main entrance of the SPA headquarters. She explained that it most of the patrons were agents and other SPA employees, but it was technically open to the public. When we wandered inside, there were a few groups of people gathered around tables, talking in low voices. A mild, folksy tune played over the sound system. Two employees behind the counter hopped to attention as we approached.
Harriet ordered a sandwich and an iced tea. I copied her order, momentarily wondering if I should order something to take with me for Adam. He’d gone off to visit a few of his favorite haven shops while I met with Harriet. She didn’t know Adam and I figured she’d be more open if it was just a one-on-one visit. The cashier rang up the purchase and Harriet handed over three coins. I tried to pay for my portion but she insisted. Moments later, food in hand, we took our place at a small table in the corner farthest from the other groups of customers.
“I know we don’t have much time, Harriet, so I’ll cut right to the chase. I wanted to meet with you today to see what you can tell me about Harvey’s case. No one will tell me much of anything and I wanted to know if there have been any developments. I met with Agent Bramble a few days ago and, I don’t know for sure, but it felt like there was something she wasn’t telling me.”
Harriet picked up her sandwich and considered it for a moment. “I don’t know how much help I’ll be. To be honest, they aren’t telling me much, either. They are keeping the whole thing quiet. Almost … too quiet.”
I paused. “Do you think they might suspect it’s someone on the inside of the agency?”
Harriet looked up, bug-eyed.
I glanced to the left and right, checking that we were far enough away from the other diners that I wouldn’t be overheard. When I was sure it was safe, I leaned in and told her what Agent Bramble had said about Agent Mache. Harriet didn’t look surprised.
Instead, she sighed. “He’s been after Harvey’s job for some time. The two of them used to work together, actually. Not a lot of people remember that. Agent Mache looks a lot younger than he really is. He and Harvey were partners when they were both fresh to the job.”
“Partners?” I certainly hadn’t expected that.
“Not by choice. They were forced to work together but there was no love lost between them. Everyone knew they despised one another. Eventually their career paths took them in differen
t directions. Harvey was promoted to General Investigator. He was in charge of special operations and running task forces. The big, headline assignments. Meanwhile Agent Mache was assigned to the supernatural crimes division, which isn’t quite as glamorous.”
I nodded, the pieces shifting and fitting together in my mind.
“Agent Mache doesn’t agree with a lot of the policies that Harvey put into place and was becoming more and more vocal about his opposition. His behavior following Harvey’s untimely death has actually been quite shocking to most of us. Normally you would expect time to mourn and grieve before someone else is coming in demanding attention. Whether or not he agreed with Harvey, it doesn’t seem right to be so outspoken about him when it hasn’t even been two weeks since his death.”
“That must be ruffling some feathers,” I said, remembering a moment too late that Agent Mache’s partner, Agent Bramble, was an eagle-shifter. Why couldn’t I get away from the bird metaphors?
Harriet didn’t seem to notice the unfortunate choice of words. She nodded her head. “No one is happy about it, and if you ask me, it’s having the opposite effect that he wanted. He’s getting attention but it’s not the right kind. To be frank, he is coming across as quite heartless. While there are situations where being tough and resilient are admirable qualities, when it comes to the passing of one of our own, it doesn’t sit right.”
“Do you think he wanted Harvey out of the way enough to … ,” I let my words trail off, but the implication was clear.
If my question scandalized her, she didn’t show it. Harriet hurried to shake her head. “I don’t think so. I mean, Agent Mache is a hot-head but I don’t think he’s a killer.”
“What about Harvey’s other enemies? What can you tell me about Dune Kasey? He’s been making the news lately.”
Harriet considered her plate for a moment. When she looked up at me, her expression was twisted, almost pained. “Harvey was right about you,” she started. “Your instincts are very sharp.”
Witch Way Home: A Beechwood Harbor Magic Mystery (Beechwood Harbor Magic Mysteries Book 4) Page 11