by Linda Palmer
I'd never been so disoriented.
Should I go to Tamsyn? The thought of driving scared me stupid. Drugged was as bad as drunk. And at the moment I wasn't sure where my car keys were.
By then I was scared. My mind's eye saw Adele. She'd warned me something would happen...hadn't she? I couldn't remember what.
On shaky legs, I went straight to bed, belatedly unwrapping the damp towel from my body. I gave it a toss in the direction of the wicker hamper. It landed on the dresser, knocking over my perfume. Was it Armani? DKNY? Versace? I pulled the covers over my head and burrowed under the pillows.
Sunlight would fix everything. Now I had to sleep.
When I opened my eyes again, it was noon on Sunday. I almost hated to get out of bed. Would I be as loopy as before?
I wasn't, and thanked my lucky stars for that as I dressed and put my hair in a messy ponytail. Tamsyn needed her prescriptions. She also needed more of my tonic, which meant I needed to make it. I just hoped I could.
As always, it was a pleasure to descend the rough wooden steps from the kitchen into the shadowy basement. The candles in the chandelier burst into flames easily enough, a good sign. From one of the shelves lining the room, I got my mortar and pestle and began selecting the herbs I'd need. It felt so good to crush them into a fine powder. Using water as my base, I stirred in the ingredients I'd prepared. A little salt and sugar helped the taste, as did the apple cider and a dash of lemon juice. I poured everything in a flask and plugged it with a stopper. When I left, I resealed the door. The magical barriers would keep anyone out.
I guess I was quieter than usual when I joined the girls at Thea's around two. At any rate, everyone asked if I was okay. I half-heartedly reassured them all. If I dared show any interest in a man, my too-helpful cougar-coven might defy their work ethic and weave a magic web to entrap him. There was no way in hell that I'd allow that to happen.
When I left the house at four to get in my car, Eduardo walked with me. I assumed that he was leaving, too, but instead, he opened the driver's side door so I could slide behind the wheel. I reached to pull the door closed. He stopped me.
"Do you know my gift, sweet cheeks?"
He loved to call me that. I hated it. "Gift?"
"Yes. My magic specialty, like your soul gazing." He pronounced it spesh-ee-al-ity.
"How'd you know about that?"
"I've seen you do it. My gift is my nose. Everyone has a personal scent altered only by cosmetics, shampoos, external additions, or by things ingested. You reek today. Belladonna, I think."
My chin dropped. "No way."
"Yes way. You were drugged. But I think you knew that."
"I suspected it. Thea made the wine, but she'd never—"
He was shaking his head before I finished. "Never."
"It had been in the fridge a while. Do you think it went bad or something?"
"I've told you what I think. What you do with that knowledge is your business."
"Er, thanks, I think." I wrenched the door from his hands and shut it. Eduardo was creepy on his best day, and I was pretty sure this wasn't one of them. Belladonna, indeed. If the wine had been drugged, I'd have picked up the trail of whoever did it. Period.
* * * *
Since Monday was the first day I could apologize to Hutch, I dressed with care. A tunic top, Leggings, knee boots. It was raining when I got there. I darted inside. The pharmaceuticals counter lay just a few feet to my left, but the pharmacist at the helm today wasn't Hutch, and the girls I'd seen before had been replaced by two young men.
It was early for a line to form, but I still had to wait while two people got their meds. Finally the counter guy, Mel, according to his name tag, focused on me.
"Hi. Is Hutch around?"
"He's off on Mondays."
"Guess I'd better call him. Do you have his number?"
"No, ma'am."
"Mr. Hutchinson is off." Bruce, the replacement pharmacist, barked the words at me. "We're not giving you his number."
I laughed. "You've misunderstood. I don't need any medicine. I'm just a friend."
"A friend would have his number."
He had a point, but I refused to give up and so shifted my attention back to Mel. "Look, we had a date Saturday night...well, we were supposed to...only I missed it." I kept my voice low. "I need to explain what happened."
"He'll be here first thing tomorrow."
Crap. "Yes, but I'd need to talk to him today."
I could tell he wanted to help, but didn't dare. "Sorry, ma'am."
Bruce motioned to the man behind me. "Next customer, please."
Dismissed. Tempted to hex the knot in Bruce's tie—he'd never be able to loosen it—I made myself leave the drugstore. Cursing anything for a reason so petty broke all the white witch rules. It was bad enough that I'd tripped that old guy on Friday.
With my tail tucked between my legs, I drove to Something's Brewing and opened shop. Several regulars dropped in needing this or that. I cleverly dragged Hutch's name into every conversation in hopes someone would know him better than I. Based on interchanges that went nowhere fast, no one did. So I was definitely bummed when I closed for lunch. Impulsively, I walked to Korner Klatch instead of eating whatever was in the fridge.
While I pondered the menu, I chatted up the waitress, a pretty girl who looked about my age. My no-show Saturday night provided me with a segue into a conversation about Hutch, who'd apparently waited there over an hour for me. I felt horrible and didn't bother to hide it, so asking if anyone had his phone number worked out pretty well. Unfortunately, no one did, but the manager knew Hutch lived in a condo, and told me exactly where it was as well as what he drove, a black SUV.
With a to-go order consisting of the most expensive ham sandwich on the planet and an equally pricey lemon-raspberry tea, I left soon after. It took about fifteen minutes driving in the rain to get to Hutch's place. Dismay quickly replaced any hope I might have had. I'd never seen so many units in a condo. But spotting a black SUV was a quick solution, especially when I realized Hutchinson's Drugs was printed on one of those magnetic signs that could be stuck on the door when necessary and later removed.
Had to be his.
I backed into an empty slot a few yards from the condo connected to that parking area so I could watch all the front doors. What I thought would happen, I didn't know. I did know I'd have to keep my wipers going, so as stakeouts went, mine was pretty obvious. But I settled in and started eating my sandwich while the radio played Santana's "Black Magic Woman."
I hadn't been there but three minutes or so when a red sports car swung into the spot next to the SUV. Recognizing it as Ember's, I instinctively ducked, but only for a second. Still, I almost missed the sight of a door opening. Hutch stepped out, dressed in gray sweats and a white T-shirt. I saw he was barefoot and could only hope that meant Ember's visit was a surprise. As for her, she had on the highest heels I'd ever seen—definitely stripper shoes—and a short purple dress that barely hid her booty and boobs. Her hair hung down her back, long and loose. She carried a bag that I recognized as coming from Lakeview Liquor. Was that how she'd slip him the potion?
When the two of them went inside Hutch's place, my heart sank. Clearly, it was too late to save him unless I broke the door down, and I had no intention of doing that. Ember's coven would curse me a thousand different ways. Besides, he could surely take care of himself.
Or not.
Many a macho man had fallen prey to feminine magic through the centuries and not just in books, plays, and operas. Love potions, if made correctly, were the real deal, and their effects could sometimes be felt for years. That seemed so unfair to me. What if the guy didn't want to love that girl? What if he loved someone else already? She and all future loves would be kicked out of his heart so someone without one could wedge her way into it. Simply put, that sucked.
The wind rocked my car as I drove home with Rush's "Witch Hunt" playing on the radio. The wipers barely kept
up with the rain. Since both matched my mood, I didn't bother to run from my car to the back door of the house, which opened into the kitchen. So I caused a puddle when I stepped inside and then left tracks on my return to the shop.
As before, I was slammed with the feeling that someone besides me had been there. Of course I sent out another tracer. It basically sputtered and died, offering me no clue. Were my instincts failing me? Or had someone with more powers than I covered her tracks?
* * * *
I closed the shop a little late that Monday night, thanks to a customer who couldn't make up his mind whether or not his girlfriend would take offense if he bought her Wiccan jewelry. Obviously, I couldn't help him decide. In the end he selected a delicate bracelet with sun, moon, and stars charms dangling from it. I mean, who wouldn't love something so celestial?
Bone tired, I opened a new bottle of Thea's wine and headed to the bedroom that now served as my den. I plopped onto the couch to catch the world news, which was so awful that I turned off the TV. I sipped the wine, immediately noticing that it tasted a little tangier than usual, but was still delicious.
It was only when I stood up and lost my balance that I decided the tang might mean something ominous. After a trip to the basement for a discerning powder, I tested a few drops of the wine. Negative. This had to be magic more powerful than mine, exactly what Adele had predicted. The thought that Ember had reached that level of skill was enough to make me jump in my car and drive to Tamsyn's.
All four witches and Eduardo were home, and one of Raven's origination charms quickly confirmed what I'd feared: the wine had been spiked. The culprit? Angel's trumpet, a flower that could cause hallucinations and even death if ingested. Although it was native to South America, the poison was easily attainable.
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
"How many bottles of wine do you have left?" asked Thea.
I pictured the cooler. "Two."
"Pour them out the moment you get home. For that matter, pour out any drinks you have sitting around."
"Okay."
"This will help." Raven handed me a glass with blue liquid in it.
I drank it to the last drop. "I can't understand how anyone could get inside my house without me knowing it. Why aren't my tracer spells working?"
Tamsyn blinked. "Spells, plural? Has this happened before?"
Oops. My gaze locked with Eduardo's. "Just once."
"It was belladonna that time," he said.
"You knew?" Raven didn't sound pleased. "Why didn't you tell us?"
"It was Ivy's business."
Good answer, I thought. I didn't want them worrying about me or micromanaging my life with well-intentioned safety spells that went wrong. Danger was in the eye of the beholder, after all. And at the moment, I was more angry than afraid.
Tamsyn led me to the kitchen and a big plate of brownies, still warm from the oven. We ate them with cups of coffee, all six of us on the roomy back porch. I'd never seen a prettier sight than the stars and that sliver of moon peek-a-booing amongst the rain clouds. It felt so good to be safe among friends.
"How many of you know about my secret gift?" I asked on impulse.
"Why, all of us, honey." Tamsyn gave me a sweet smile.
"Why didn't you say something?"
"We knew you'd share when the time was right."
"Do any of you have the same gift?"
Lots of head shakes.
"Would you like to read us?" asked Adele.
"No need. I know how wonderful and amazing you all are. Thanks for having my back."
Now Tamsyn beamed at me. "Our pleasure."
* * * *
Before I left them that night, I'd learned a stronger spell for tracing the path of intruders. I rehearsed it while the radio played "Season of the Witch," a Donovan release back in the days of peace rallies and love-ins, and "Rhiannon" by Fleetwood Mac. Our local radio station did love witchy songs.
The second I stepped inside my house, I cast the spell. The kitchen lit up like a sparkler on speed. Wispy golden trails ran all over the place, missing no cubbyholes or secret nooks and crannies. I wanted to throw up. Before this, I could reassure myself of coincidences. Now the truth could not be denied. Someone had it in for me.
Someone who'd snooped around my house.
What other traps had they set?
I literally ran to the basement door to check the integrity of my locking spells. The door stood ajar. My heart stopped and then thundered in my chest. A baby witch could properly secure a door. An experienced witch had damn well better be an expert.
Wait...I was an expert.
So what had happened?
With my stomach knotted in dread, I descended the steps into the dark basement. I wished for a real light bulb as I lit the chandelier. But electricity could be so detrimental to magic in the making, the reason there was none down there. All the same, not having a good light definitely hindered my check of the shelves. Luckily, I quickly spotted a hole where my love potions should've sat.
Cursing like my non-magical Dad, I checked the basement stairs for my incantus, which was hidden under one of the steps and invisible to everyone but me. It was still there. Relief made my knees weak. I sat and waited for my heart to stop pounding.
This had to be Ember's doing. No one else had it in for me.
But how?
No witch could reach those levels of power overnight. Well, not unless she was stealing them from someone else. That was so risky. One false move, and she'd be found out. In the paranormal world, retribution would be quick and graphic. I honestly didn't think she had the courage. So friends with greater powers had to be helping her. Witches of the same mindset could accomplish so much, the reason for covens in the first place.
Poor Hutch. He didn't deserve the lifetime of misery she could inflect on him.
At least as far as I knew. Or maybe he did. I remembered that I hadn't gazed into his eyes, something I needed to do sooner than later for his own good.
So how about tonight?
I tried to ignore my conscience. This time, I couldn't, which left me no choice besides braving the rain yet again and driving to his place. It was only eight. He should be awake.
What if he's not alone?
Now it was my sensible side having a say.
And with good reason. I couldn't rush to Hutch's without a contingency plan. I had to be prepared for a possible attack from Ember, who appeared to be way more powerful than I'd given her credit for. Would I win a fight with her? I considered possible scenarios all the way to Hutch's. My first surprise was not seeing the red car parked next to his. So far, so good.
I killed the engine, cutting off Jethro Tull's "Witches Promise." It took a lot of nerve for me to get out of the car and step on his tiny, unsheltered porch. I punched the bell. The outside light flickered on. The door opened.
Hutch stood there, obviously shocked. "Ivy! Hey."
"Hey." I could barely get the word out. His expression told me he thought I'd been a no-show last night because I didn't like him. Yet nothing could be further from the truth. "Do you have a minute?"
"Yeah, sure. Come in." He pulled the door open wide and stepped back to let me enter.
I actually had one foot in and one out of his condo before I asked what I really needed to. "You're alone?"
He nodded and motioned for me to hurry and get out of the weather. I scooted past him, slipping just a little because of my wet soles. Catching a glimpse of myself in a wall mirror, I winced. A bat in the bathwater wouldn't look as bedraggled as I did.
"Let me get you a towel."
"Thanks." I stayed glued to the spot while he went for one, my gaze flying all around the room. It was definitely a man cave—big, overstuffed recliner and love seat; two TVs; empty take-out boxes—but I instantly felt comfortable.
"Here you go." He handed me a fluffy brown towel.
I bent over so my hair would fall forward, and quickly rubbed it as dry as I cou
ld. My clothes came next. I realized I was soaked to the skin, which was probably the reason my teeth chattered. Of course, Hutch noticed. "Sit down by the fire. You're one big shiver."
But I had things to say first. "I'm so sorry I didn't make it to Korner Klatch. I fell asleep in the bathtub." I gave him the scenario. "It was midnight, way too late to call even if I'd had your number."
"And if I'd had yours, I'd have called to find out where you were." He guided me to a love seat as he talked.
I sat rather gingerly. Didn't want to get it wet.
"Would you like some dry clothes?"
"If your clothes fit me, I'm drinking hemlock."
"Say what?"
I softly gasped. Hadn't meant to say that. "Nothing. I'm fine. The fire is definitely helping."
"How about a cup of coffee, then? Won't take me but a second to make some."
"That sounds heavenly."
Hutch left me and walked into his kitchen, most of which I could see because of the open floor plan. I got up and walked over to a glass-front china cabinet that looked very old. Placed on the top shelves inside it was an amazing collection of Javan's dragons, way more than I knew existed. I couldn't resist opening the doors and checking them out. "Wow. You really are a collector."
Hutch, standing at his kitchen counter, glanced at me over his shoulder. "You doubted it?"
"Not really, no. But these must have taken you years to collect."
"Try decades. My uncle got me started."
I noticed that the bottom shelves of the cabinet had something different on them. On opening those doors, I saw what appeared to be a folded, sateen cape, black with red lining. Resting on it were a top hat and the type of magic wand rabbit-trick magicians used. I knelt to get a better look.
"That's him in that poster on the wall there."
I stood to see it, in the process banging my head on one of the top doors, which I hadn't shut. Pretending it didn't hurt, I looked where he pointed and saw the weathered circus poster featuring a magician named Amazing Amos. I loved the words under the stereotypical drawing of a man wearing a cloak and top hat: You'll be chilled and thrilled by his powerful magic. "So you have magic running through your veins, huh?"