by Gina LaManna
I gave Poppy a smile, a true one. “I’m sure there were people just like you.”
She waved a hand. “No, not like me. I’m nothing special, but if I can make a little difference in someone’s day, that’s enough for me.”
“You make my day,” I said. “You make a lot of people’s days, Poppy.”
Her smile seemed ghost-like. “I don’t know about that. I’m not like you, Lily. I’m not destined to ‘save the world’ or become the next Mixologist. I’m not destined for fame, and frankly, I don’t desire it in the slightest. I’m not out fighting evil like Zin, or changing laws and rules and societies like Ranger X.” Poppy shrugged, her eyes filling with tears. “I’m just me, and some days, that has to be enough.”
Surprised, I cleared my throat, the lingering emotions from last night baring their heads. Undoubtedly the stress of everything that’d happened had been falling on her shoulders, and this time, she needed someone else to front the smile.
“Come on,” I said, patting her leg. “Grab your mimosa, we have somewhere to be.”
Poppy’s watery smile grew as she sniffed. “I’m just a big, fat emotional ball of goo.”
“I like goo.”
She fell into my arms, her shoulders shaking, and I realized that the events of last night had affected her more than she’d let on. She’d been strong last night for Zin and this morning for me. No wonder she was overwhelmed.
“You don’t always have to be the happy face,” I whispered. “Sometimes it’s okay to cry.”
“Oh, I cry plenty.” Poppy pulled back after some time and wiped her face. “Sometimes, a girl just needs a good cry.”
“Do you feel better?”
She nodded. “Now, what is this work you speak of? If I can bring my mimosa, count me in.”
CHAPTER 27
I let Poppy finish my mimosa after hers, and then together we set off through the sand. We kept to the edge of the beach, our toes dipping into the water. I carried my sandals and Poppy carried two refilled mimosas.
“I need to brainstorm,” I said. “I need a potion.”
“For what? Hey, whatever happened to that Glo potion you were making? The one you told me about that will replace Harpin’s tea.”
“It should be ready by this weekend.” I winked. “I’m simmering it on low so that it’ll last longer.”
Poppy blew me a kiss. “You are the best wing-woman ever.”
I grinned. We walked some more in silence. I let my brain puzzle through the thoughts that’d been bubbling deep beneath the surface last night.
Hettie, Ainsley, everyone in The Core had accepted difficult, dangerous jobs in order to stop the terrorizing on the island. That’d left me with what, distracting Ranger X? While I’d been showering this morning, a new idea had hit me. One that pleased me—one that might make a real difference.
Sitting back wasn’t good enough. If The Core didn’t trust me enough to share the real responsibilities, then I would make my own. First on the list? A potion to combat the effects of blood magic.
“There’s never been an antidote for blood magic,” I told Poppy. “It’s too hard to study since the whole practice is outlawed. And when it happens, it happens so fast; for example, last night, I wasn’t thinking about an antidote while Zin was being controlled. I was… I was hardly thinking at all. When I did think, it was all about stopping Zin.”
“So how do you plan on creating an antidote?” Poppy asked, sipping her orange juice and blinking at the bubbles. “Seems like it would be hard to test.”
“Very challenging,” I agreed. “I don’t have any ideas yet. That’s why I needed this walk. To brainstorm.”
“I’m a good sounding board. Where do you usually start when you’re brewing a potion?”
“I start. . . ” I hesitated. “Well, I figure out what I need. What ingredients might work to beat a specific spell, charm, or hex.”
“All right, well, let’s start there. What could you need?”
I shook my head. “Mind bending is different—most spells or hexes come from the outside in, so they’re easier to block with a barrier sort of potion. Conversely, blood magic works from the inside out, starting with a soul and twisting it until the person is no longer recognizable.”
We walked until we reached the dock, the silence a sign that we were both stumped. Kenny, a friend from my first days on the island, was out fiddling with the boat, and I waved to him as we passed. He waved back and flashed a brief smile.
“None of the ingredients I have on hand will work,” I said. “I’ve been going over them in my head again and again. I have enough for the base product. Herbs I can use for a starter batch, minerals that fight evil magic, but there’s something missing, something I can’t put my finger on. . . ”
“What about something you don’t have? Something you’ve never used before?”
“I’m sure there’s something I’m missing. I’ve been asking around, reading, learning everything I can about blood magic.” I shrugged. “Usually ingredients for Mixes aren’t this difficult to find. They sort of just come to me, like a story almost.”
“That’s incredible.” Poppy shook her head in awe. “And I suppose that’s why you’re the Mixologist. What does it feel like?”
I hesitated. I’d never tried to describe it before, but it was like trying to explain the smell of home, the taste of a kiss. Every instance was so unique, so different but somehow, it was always just right. “It’s like a story. A fully formed story that’s gifted to me from something, somewhere.”
“A story? But don’t you just sort of throw a bunch of ingredients together?” Poppy wrinkled her nose. “I mean, in a fancy way, of course.”
“No. It’s not mathematical, but it’s not random either. I’ve never sculpted or painted, but I imagine it’s something like that. The artist has an idea that they start with, but it’s a big, broad idea. Then it takes lots of time and detail to get it perfect. A blend of art and science.”
Poppy looked confused, so I tried again.
“I start by thinking about my goal. Right now, I want a potion that can protect someone from mind bending magic,” I explained. “To achieve that, I’ll need a base—silver, probably, because it’s reflective. It will help to reflect evil. However, the potion has to be gentle; the magic is inside them, after all, so we can’t just blast it away.”
“I’m starting to get it,” Poppy said. “So you’ve got silver, and you’ve got some herbs. Isn’t that good enough to start?”
“I’m missing something,” I said, a bit of frustration bubbling under the surface. “A crucial piece of the story.”
“Well, walk with me,” Poppy said. “That always helps me shake things into place. Let’s head over to Sea Salt and grab some lunch. I promise I’ll let you get back to work this afternoon and stop bothering you.”
I smiled at Poppy. My brain hurt; it was stuck, and banging my head against the wall was only making things worse. “Lunch sounds wonderful.”
“Great!” Poppy bounced ahead, her happiness contagious. “I’m going to have fish sticks, maybe a Bloody Mary since I didn’t take my Vamp Vites yet today, and then for the main course…”
Poppy went on and on about the lunch menu. By the time she’d decided what I should be ordering, we had reached the edge of the Lower Bridge.
“Look at that, the flowers are blooming!” Poppy singsonged, then pointed to a patch of little white flowers near the bridge. “You should pick some! They’re basically yours, anyway.”
“Mine?”
“Lily of the valley, that’s what they’re called.” Poppy grinned. “Your name’s on them.”
“Oh, wow.” I bent down, the small blooms leaning against my fingertips. “I haven’t seen these in ages—they used to grow along my neighbor’s house until they tore it down.”
“Take a whiff,” Poppy said. “They smell like dancing.”
I took a sniff. A sweet, heavenly scent drifted up to me. “I’ll grab a few
—I bet Gus has a use for them.”
“There are tons, and they grow quickly! Take as much as you want.” Poppy gestured toward the river where bright orange goldfish twisted and jumped with the dolphins. “They love water, so they’re always around here.”
I harvested a few while Poppy finished both of the mimosas. We continued on, my face buried in the flowers.
“Don’t they smell great? Actually, brilliant idea alert! What if you make your mind bending potion smell like these flowers?” Poppy turned to me, her eyes wide. “I’d totally drink it, just for the perfume. You know, you could even make a perfume with your name in it—personalized perfume. You could make one for me and Zin, too.”
My spine stiffened. “Personalized perfume?”
“Even an alliteration,” Poppy chirped happily. “Poppy’s personalized perfume. Maybe you should—”
“Poppy, that’s it!” I whirled around to face her, changing directions so fast my head swam with stars. “You solved it!”
“What did I solve with perfume? The problem of body odor? I’m pretty sure someone else figured that out first.”
“No, the personalization piece. That’s what I was missing.”
“My brain doesn’t work as fast as yours. Catch me up.”
“I can use lily of the valley as the missing ingredient for the antidote! It makes complete sense!”
“Total sense,” she said dryly.
“Blood magic is dangerous because it starts inside and changes a person until they don’t remember who they are,” I said, remembering Ainsley’s voice grounding me to reality while I was under the spell in the Library of Secrets. “If there were a way to remind the person of who they really are, it might pull them back from The Puppeteer’s control.”
“Zin woke up when you held her,” Poppy said. “When your tears hit her face. Maybe that snapped her out of it, knowing you were there. That you were her family.”
Excitement coursed through my veins. “I’m sorry, we have to turn around—lunch can wait.”
“I have a question though. Will you need to make a personalized potion for everyone? That doesn’t seem economical.”
“No, I don’t think so.” I held up the lilies. “I’m the Mixologist; I need to blend this potion in a way that makes sense to me, but I don’t see why it shouldn’t work for everyone else. The goal of this potion is to make people believe so strongly in themselves that they can’t be persuaded to act in a way untrue to their own beliefs.”
“Well, sounds like you have a plan,” Poppy said. “I’ll tell you what. Make it mimosa flavored, and I’ll even be your tester.”
I hardly heard Poppy as I grabbed her hand and pulled her back toward the bungalow.
Unfortunately, we only made it a few steps before an unwelcome visitor blocked our path.
“Lily,” Harpin drawled, edging me off to the side of the path. “Just the woman I needed to see.”
We were still near the East Isle, the Lower Bridge within sight when Harpin blocked our path.
“What do you want?” The snark in my voice came effortlessly. “My cousin and I are busy.”
“You don’t say?” Harpin raised an eyebrow at Poppy’s empty mimosa glasses.
I crossed my arms. Hettie had said it was important to keep up the facade that Harpin and I didn’t get along. Oddly enough, I didn’t even have to fake it.
“May I have a word?” Harpin shifted, his long black robes swishing across the ground. “Alone, please.”
“Whatever you want to say, you can say in front of Poppy.”
“I don’t think you’d like Poppy hearing what I have to say.” He glanced at my cousin. “It’s privileged information.”
“She said she’s busy.” Poppy marched forward and stopped inches away from him. “If she’s busy, she’s busy.”
Harpin sniffed, and then turned back to me. “It’s quite urgent.”
My hands balled at my side. I warred within myself over my own distaste for the man, and Hettie’s instructions to work with him.
“I’m sorry, Poppy. Can I have a second?” I blew out a frustrated sigh, casting a glowering stare at Harpin. “Make it quick.”
Poppy’s eyebrows knitted together, but she grudgingly agreed.
Harpin rested his fingers lightly on my elbow as we stepped off the path. I shrugged him away, following a few paces behind as he led me toward a small cluster of trees.
When we reached the shade, he turned. “I need information.”
I glanced over my shoulder to Poppy. She was too far away to hear anything, but when she saw me glance, she waved. Then she curled her lips at Harpin.
“What sort of information?” I met his squinty gaze.
“On The Puppeteer.”
I couldn’t keep my mouth from opening and closing. “Your task is to find out about blood magic and The Puppeteer, and you come to me? My job is just to be a distraction, remember? And why didn’t you ask last night?”
“You know more than you’re letting on.” He stepped closer, his voice low, his breath oddly scented—like old tea leaves. “You might fool the others, but you’re not fooling me.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Your little boyfriend. He spent the morning with you. I don’t get the same pillow talk as you, and that puts me at a disadvantage. Do what’s best for the group, Lily.”
“Are you watching me?” I hissed.
He sneered at my horrified gaze. “I can’t do my job if you’re withholding information.”
“I’m not! I don’t know where The Puppeteer is holing up.”
“What did your boyfriend have to say?”
“Leave him out of this!” My voice rose and I turned slightly, catching sight of Poppy stepping toward us. I raised a hand, and she retreated again. “He doesn’t know anything either; but even if he did, he wouldn’t tell me.”
“Work and play don’t carry over?” Harpin tapped a long, thin finger to his lips. “That’s a shame. I really could’ve used a leg up here, Lily. Or is there something else? Trouble in paradise, perhaps?”
“Shut up, Harpin.” I hated that he was getting to me. “Do your job, and I’ll do mine. I don’t want to see you again.”
Poppy didn’t need to hear what we were talking about to interpret the expression on my face. She stepped forward, shoving the two empty mimosa glasses in Harpin’s hands. “Hold these, please,” she said, and then marched me away from him. “Don’t look back.”
I didn’t have to look back to feel Harpin’s eyes on us as we left, his lips curling into a smirk.
CHAPTER 28
“That should be everything,” I said, dropping the last of the little white bell-shaped flowers into a gurgling potion. “Lily of the valley.”
Poppy inhaled deeply, her eyes closed. “I’d definitely wear that perfume.”
“You don’t need to. Blood magic doesn’t work on vampires.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Poppy looked crestfallen. “Well, what if you take out all the magic and just slather me in the scent? I don’t care about the antidote, I just want to smell nice.”
“I’ll add it to the Glo I’m making for you.”
Poppy plopped down at the bench. “What are you going to call your new potion?”
I bit my lip and stirred, the potion bubbling into a milky white color with a bit of an iridescent sheen to it like the most glamorous of pearls. “I’m going to call it Jinx and Tonic.”
“Oh, sexy.”
The familiar thunk of a cane sounded on the front steps. “Oh, no. It’s Gus.” My heart stuttered, and I looked with horror at Poppy. “Not a word about Jinx and Tonic.”
“I’ll distract him.”
“You’re a lifesaver,” I whispered, hurling ingredients back into their jars and putting out the tea light flame under the small cauldron. I tossed the majority of the supplies back onto the shelves, finishing just as Poppy initiated a titillating conversation about nail polish with Gus. Some distraction, I thought
.
It wasn’t that I wanted to hide the potion from Gus—I was proud of it, my own tiny way of fighting back against The Faction. But he’d been at Hettie’s meeting, and he knew I hadn’t been tasked to make a potion. A part of me was worried he wouldn’t approve of me taking liberties on Hettie’s rules.
“What do I care?” Gus growled as he pushed past Poppy. “Rip your nails off for all I’m concerned. It’d save you time from painting the stupid things.”
Poppy beamed as she followed Gus into the room. With a quick scan of the place and a look at my face, she could see that she’d stalled him long enough for me to hide just about everything.
“Hey, Gus, you’re back early,” I said. “What’s up?”
He’d slipped away, and a part of me had wondered if he’d gone off to meet Harpin. I didn’t ask; it wasn’t my business.
“What is that foul odor?” Gus waved a hand in front of his face. “Smells like a funeral.”
Poppy sucked in a sharp breath. “It smells gorgeous!”
“What are you Mixing, Lily?”
“I’m just working on the Glo potion.” I called as I left the storeroom for the bar. “You told me it was stupid.”
“It’s not stupid,” Poppy said, then relaunched her argument about nail polish.
I zoned out, distracted by a movement from the bar area. Moving across the room, I recognized a distinctly orange feline shape.
“Hey, kitty, I said. “What are you doing here?”
Tiger strolled his way across the bar, leaping from stool to counter easily. I gave him a quick scratch behind the ears. Out of habit, I went to the fridge and poured a little saucer of milk. I set it out, petting his soft fur.
“I should really keep some real food for you around here, I suppose. But then everyone would know I like you.”
Tiger lapped up the milk faster than parched dirt. I reached for a refill, but apparently the cat wasn’t having it because he leaped from the bar and landed hard on my arm.
“Okay then,” I said. “Just trying to be helpful.”