Poison and Potions: a Limited Edition Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection

by Erin Hayes

  But not by much.

  These were the realities that led Adira to have no family, no friends, and no job. All of her choices before this one had led to this very moment, where Adira had to do exactly what she had sacrificed everything not to do.

  Use magic. In public.

  But, a girl has to eat, and her hunt these past few days had come up empty. That was the disadvantage of the Sectors. The Ravagers couldn’t get in…but neither could food. With population growing so quickly and the lone Regent unable to sustain magic to both protect and duplicate, that meant food was scarce. The better of the hunters had beat her to it, which meant she would have to get her food at the market like everyone else.

  Except she wasn’t like everyone else. She lived off the grid and had just spent the last of her stolen coins.

  As she turned a corner into a busy stretch of marketplace where vendors had set up their carts for the morning, she pulled the hood of her cape over her head. She ducked into the crowd and tucked her hands into her long sleeves, hoping to mask what she was about to do.

  The autumn wind blew an encouraging wind across the cobblestone, stirring up dried leaves and debris and what little courage Adira had. She steeled herself. She would need to think fast. Act fast. If she wanted to eat today, and with no money to buy food, stealing was her only option.

  Getting caught, however, was not. She would have to make the lift in passing, and she would need magic to do it. Magic no one could witness if she wanted to live.

  If she tried to make a natural grab, she would certainly be caught. That was one way to die. But lifting objects with sorcery had its risks, too. With Adira’s experience, though, it was still the lesser of evils—a possible death always won out over a definite one.

  She shuffled through the aisles, assessing the various carts. The man at the bread cart stared as she neared. His arms crossed, and his gaze dipped to her breasts—the only thing harder to hide than her magic, even under the loose layers of clothing.

  Biting her lip, she turned away, trying to still a trembling hand as she sifted between the carts. The eyes of the entire town prickled into her back. That, or paranoia was scraping razors up her spine.

  Adira breezed past the meat carts; men with large knives, food worth guarding, and a meal she would need fire to cook made their offerings easy to rule out. Not to mention it wouldn’t exactly be easy to sneak a stolen leg of lamb through the marketplace.

  Taking a deep breath, she passed by a fruit cart tended by an old woman dressed in dark, ragged clothing. The woman’s eyes clouded over in white. Blind. This was a cheap shot, but it was also Adira’s best chance at survival. The pangs in her stomach pressed her to at least consider the goods.

  The broskve and meruňky were past season, but only just. Still, Adira was in no mood to deal with any wasps that may have burrowed their way into the fruits. On the entire cart, there was only one fruit she would trust this time of year.

  Hopefully her last protection spell hadn’t worn off yet. It would help cloak what she was about to do. Next time, she would get the cloves sooner. Be more prepared. Not let her fear lead to her putting off what needed to be done. But for today, if she was to have the energy to make the hike home, she needed to eat.

  Come on. You can do this.

  At least she hoped.

  No amount of successfully undetected enchantments seemed to instill any confidence in her. There was always that possibility looming over her that today would be the day she got caught using magic.

  Another sharp pang rocketed through her gut, sending a dizzy spell through her head. She slowed to steady herself, her gaze darting around to see if anyone had noticed, but the other citizens were all too worried about what goods they should fill their own bellies with.

  Adira forced her steps one in front of the other, carrying herself toward the fruit cart. She needed a distraction. Coming upon a crying boy, she patted his head, and as he turned in his haste to see who had touched him, he knocked over a bread tray. That was just the commotion she needed, and ambiguous enough that no one would even realize it had been the boy who knocked it over. No one would be hurt because of her choices today.

  She hurried the rest of the way, walking past the fruit cart and sending energy out from her. She didn’t have much time before the distraction passed.

  Under the hood of her cloak, she whispered, “Levitovat.”

  A small švestka fruit floated from the cart to Adira’s hand, and she quickly pulled it into her sleeve and out of sight. Heart hammering in her chest, she let out a slow, steady breath.

  It’s over now. Breathe.

  Adira went to turn another corner when a bony hand snatched her wrist and spun her around. With a gasp, she came face-to-face with the old woman. The woman’s smoky white eyes seemed to burn into Adira’s soul. The woman stared as though she could see everything.

  Slowly, the woman lifted Adira’s hand. Adira’s sleeve fell down to her elbow, revealing the small plum still clutched in her grasp.

  “I—I’m—so sorry,” Adira said, shaking her head. “Please don’t—”

  “Silence.” The old woman’s grip tightened. “I saw what you did, child.”

  Adira’s eyes widened. If only. If only she were still a child, she might get out of this—at least for stealing. But if anyone knew she could spell-cast, her life would be little more than a ticking time-bomb. Maybe if she’d been born in another sector. Maybe if she’d been born before the world turned. Maybe a lot of things…but maybes didn’t make things so. This was her life. These were her people.

  The old woman yanked Adira’s arm, pulling her to the side of street. She took Adira’s other hand and flipped both over, pressing her sharp fingernails against her wrists. The plum fell the ground below, but the old woman’s clouded gray eyes never left Adira’s gaze.

  “You’re one of them,” she whispered darkly.

  Adira shook her head. “If you tell anyone—”

  Commotion at the other side of the marketplace overshadowed the rest of Adira’s plea. The old woman cut her attention toward the happenings though she made no move to release Adira.

  Adira followed the woman’s gaze and she squinted as she tried to make out the figures in the distance. How was it this woman—who moments ago Adira had thought blind—could see so far off from where they stood? What was going on over there, anyway?

  Citizens rallied around…something. People shouted. Cheered. Large figures broke through the rabble, only for the crowd to reform again along the path, seeming to march alongside the larger figures.

  Storm clouds rolled in overhead, black and unforgiving to the light, and realization hit Adira with a punch to the gut. Her whole body clenched. The old woman’s grip tightened.

  Please, not now. Don’t let the Display come through now.

  It was too soon. There should have been months left before the next Display.

  But the cheering…the sudden shift in the weather…the large figures parading toward the center of the city. It could only mean one thing: Regent High Witch Roman Dvorak had found his new victim…er…wife.

  Well, possible wife, anyway. One way or another, she would wind up dead—if not today, then in a few short months from now. Then Regent Dvorak would begin searching again, and with every witch that died, Adira’s odds of being caught increased.

  And now, here she was, in the hold of a woman who knew she was a witch. A woman she had just robbed in the marketplace. Just as the man who would most love to know her secret was about to parade past.

  Now was not the time for apologies. Now was the time to run.

  Adira yanked herself away and took off, chancing only one peek over her shoulder to see if the old woman was following. She wasn’t. She just stared off after her, with the strangest, saddest expression. The woman’s foggy gaze slowly returned to the spectacle as it drew closer.

  Heart aching with effort and legs weighted like lead beneath her body, Adira zig-zagged through the throng, bump
ing a few shoulders and catching a few jeers along the way.

  Attention was the last thing she needed. Who was she fooling? Running wouldn’t take her far. The old woman didn’t need Adira in hand to turn her over to the Guard. She could simply tell them what happened, what she saw. Let them know a small, mousy brunette had robbed her…using magic. A female witch they didn’t know existed.

  That plum she’d touched—the one she’d tainted with her magic—would be all the evidence they needed to track her down.

  This would not end well.

  Chapter Two

  There was only one thing Alec Kladivo did not like about his job, and that was The Display.

  The whole ordeal served to remind him—and likely everyone else—of their unfortunate situation. Each and every one of them, a prisoner to the Sector, himself included. When Ravagers overtook the world, the Othala Witches had created the Sectors for their protection, but that didn’t change that no one could leave.

  It didn’t change how many people would die to keep the Ravagers out.

  Killing the Ravagers never bothered him, but he hated the sound of a Doomed Queen screaming.

  The Doomed Queen.

  That was how the citizens referred to the women chosen for the Display. He couldn’t blame them. But they knew as well as he that this needed to be done. Their entire existence depended on it.

  He shook away the unease. Dvorak did what he needed to protect their Sector, the same as Alec had done what was necessary to protect his family and his village. That was how he ended up here in the first place, and that was why he would always honor his duty. At least at this post, he could keep his distance until his servicers were needed at the end of the ceremony.

  Alec scanned the crowd to ensure no citizens rebelled the parade. It rarely happened. The citizens wanted this, wanted to be safe, knew their safety came at a price. Every now and then, however, there was someone, and it was his job to restore the peace.

  Everything seemed in order. Some bystanders watched the parade from a safe distance, while others went about their daily business. The girl who had just bought the runestone at the Regent’s dispensary was still here, too.

  Alec smirked, shaking his head. Clever and headstrong, but did she really think she could hide curves like those under the ratty garb of a beggar? He wasn’t fooled. There was something about her that was unlike the other women in the Sector. Almost as if she wanted to go by unseen.

  He licked his lips and pressed them together. She’d felt the same connection he had back at the dispensary. He knew it. Sensed it the moment she’d looked up at him, the face of an angel obscured by smears of dirt. And yet she’d walked away without even a second glance back in his direction.

  After another quick scan of the crowd, he found his gaze gravitating back to her, the way her hips swayed when she walked. As she walked by a small child crying against his mother’s skirt, she mussed at his hair. The boy peered up at her and smiled, but it was as though she didn’t even notice she’d done it.

  The sudden commotion made Alec’s heart jump. What was going on over there? Someone had knocked over one of the vender’s carts. Men cussed, women cleared away children, and the vender began to clear the mess.

  He should keep an eye on things until it settled down, but the sway of the beggar girl’s hips distracted him. In one of her tiny, thin-fingered hands, she now held a small piece of fruit that she hadn’t held before.

  There was no way a transaction had taken place that quickly. Alec groaned. Of all the people in the square to steal, why did it have to be her?

  He shook his head. A lot was going on. He was probably just confused. He kept trying to reason with himself in this way…up until the old woman who owned the cart chased the girl down.

  Alec had work to do. As cute as the girl might be, duty always came first.

  Right now, his duty pointed him toward an old woman and the sexiest beggar he’d ever seen in all his years working for the Guard. He hated this. If his life had gone differently, he could have met the same fate as that beautiful young woman was about to face. Instead, his strength and bravery had afforded him this lot in life.

  The law was absolute, though, and it appeared the beggar girl had stolen a piece of fruit. But that meant death, which made him pause. It wasn’t as though he would be the one to carry out her punishment. He only need bring the girl in.

  Constantine, Alec’s comrade, stepped to Alec’s side. “You see that?”

  Alec nodded.

  “Want me to handle it?” Constantine asked.

  Alec clenched his jaw. This was outrageous. His hesitation nearly had him shown up by his best friend and second in command. Alec never skirted the rules. Never looked the other way. Never so much as paused before taking action. He wasn’t about to let some peasant get under his skin. Why should he? Because she was pretty? Good looks did not change the facts. She needed to be collected.

  Alec held out his hand to stave off his comrade.

  “I’ll see to it,” he said coolly before storming off into the crowd.

  He would not feel bad for a thief. Male, female, mother, child—it mattered not. He’d done what he needed not to be a beggar. It wasn’t fortune. It was a choice. Anyone could choose the same or accept what life gave them.

  He shouldered past those not wise enough to clear from his path. Within a few moments, he could close the distance, capture the girl, and head back toward the Guard with her in tow. If all went well, he would miss the actual Display, as he always tried to do. Afterward, he would be able to return in enough time to finish the ceremony, which would at least keep his comrades out of harm’s way. No sense in more people dying than necessary.

  With each step closer to pair of women, the pit in his stomach grew. This shouldn’t bother him. This was his job. It was her—the thief—that had shaken him.

  He pulled his sword from his scabbard and clenched the handle. If beauty that caused confliction to the beholder was enough to convict someone of sorcery, this woman would have a lot more than thievery to worry about.

  The old woman and the beggar appeared to be in some kind of standoff. The merchant had the young woman by the wrists. The beggar’s posture went rigid. Her face paled.

  Guilt. Fear. He could practically smell it from here.

  Her pleading expression scraped through his insides, but the approaching parade struck him back into line. Hooves of the Regent’s horse clattered against cobblestone. Wheels on the Ravager’s cage rattled. Sobs of the Doomed Queen and the clink of her chains edged closer.

  Alec hastened his step. Get the girl. Take her to the Guard.

  She would be their problem, on their conscience. Not his. He protected the Sector as a whole…not the single life of a criminal.

  Alec was still a few yards away when the beggar pulled free of the old woman’s grasp and bolted into the crowd.

  No.

  She was heading toward the arena, toward the Display he had so hoped to avoid. Of course she would go in the one direction he did not want to follow.

  That wouldn’t stop him, though. He acted for his father. For his mother. For his sister. For all of Sector One. There was no room for weakness in this world. Especially for the members of his family.

  Alec sprinted after the young woman. The crowd grew denser. He glanced at the old woman, who stared after him.

  He advanced on her. “What happened?”

  The old woman stared at the procession: Regent. Doomed Queen. Ravager.

  Alec grabbed her arm. “You let her go!”

  Slowly, the old woman turned her white eyes toward the hunter. “I did not let her go. She left.”

  The hunter gave her a shake, looking over her head into the crowd. Now he’d lost the beggar. “Do you know her? Do you know who she is?”

  “She wanted some fruit,” the woman said.

  He stepped closer to the woman, his chest heaving with frustration. Sweat beaded on his brow. “You’re protecting her. Why?”
>
  The woman raised her eyebrows. “I believe she dropped the švestka.”

  She was lying. He’d seen the way that old woman had grabbed the girl. She knew something. But she wasn’t going to give it up, and he didn’t have time to question her. If that was the best help this woman could give, he would take it.

  He released her arm and scanned the ground for the evidence of a discarded plum. Nothing.

  When he looked up again, the woman was gone. Trickster. He slammed a closed fist against a brick wall behind one of the vender stands and cursed under his breath. Damn it!

  Was this the best he could do? Alec, leader of the Witch Hunters—the Regent’s most-trusted Guard—tricked by a merchant?

  He scoured the crowd again for sign of either woman. Vanished. The market was too busy. Everyone was gathering for the Display that was already beginning to assemble in the square.

  Constantine came to his side once more. “Did you get the girl?”

  Alec glowered at his friend. “Does it look like I got the girl?”

  His comrade placed a hand on his shoulder. “She’ll show up again. Where else can she go?”

  Alec huffed through his nose and re-sheathed his sword. “I will find her,” he said. “And I will make her wish she never ran.”

  Chapter Three

  Adira ducked into another alley and hid behind a wooden barrel pressed to the side of someone’s home. A peasant—judging by the location and the threadbare sheets passing for curtains on the windows. The rich would never live so close to the arena.

  From here, Adira could see the square. If she was right—if this was the Display—she would soon know how much time she had left: months…or minutes.

  She wiped sweat from her brow with the back of her sleeve, cursing the need for long layers and the early autumn heat at the same time. What she wouldn’t give for the cooler autumn months to hasten their arrival.

  The large figures in the concession thundered into the square, though Adira could barely make out anything through the density of the crowd aside from the imposing shadows. She pressed up onto her toes, trying to peek over heads of people much taller than herself.