by Carla Caruso
She steered her mind back on track. Right, she’d double-check the location plan with Lotta that night, then all going to plan, phone the botanic garden office tomorrow to book it in. Doing a recce had been a good idea.
Turning away again, Mina glimpsed the glassy Victorian-era palm house up the slope. Hmm. It’d been a while since she’d stepped inside the ‘crystal palace’ and soaked up its gentle charm. While being outdoors always recharged her, it was never quiet; not for someone like her. The noise inside the palm house would be less obtrusive. She’d have a meander before closing time.
She headed for its imposing brown steps. They grew narrower in width as she climbed towards the entrance. Once indoors, the manufactured tropical warmth enveloped her—a nice change from Hilforest’s usual chill. Rare sunshine, through the high-up glass plates, pierced her eyes. Some plates were painted in a royal-blue diamond pattern to accent the domed roof. At ground level, lush plants, better suited to Madagascar, stretched to curl around her feet. Fully in her element, she wandered along the palm house’s brown-tiled, curved path, patting random leaves and letting fronds tickle her.
She found company when she reached a wide junction. A few other late stragglers were hovering around a massive potted plant at its centre. The plant in question stood at least three metres tall. Of course. The old corpse flower, or titan arum to be technical. Right then, the parasitic plant looked like a giant banana, wrapped in a lettuce leaf … or something out of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. But, according to local news reports, its flower would bloom for the first time in a matter of weeks.
She’d read that it took a decade for it to even build up the energy to produce a flower, aided by expert horticultural skills and patience. But it was the largest individual flower on Earth. Funnily, once the flower had its big ta-da, it’d collapse in a mushy heap within a few days and smell like rotting flesh.
It was like a metaphor for her love life.
A perm-haired woman opposite thrust up a camera, clicking away at the rather phallic-looking cocoon. Mina had to smile to herself. It wasn’t often plants got rock-star treatment; she was happy for the greenery love. She pulled her phone from her jean pocket and took a snap of her own, for posterity’s sake.
After marvelling at the plant from every which way, she decided to call it a day, vowing to return for its Big Reveal. For the moment, though, she had dinner to make, an inbox to check for spell kit enquiries, and a sister to call. The only thing she wouldn’t allow herself time for was thinking about darn Jadon Eder.
Chapter 6
‘Want to go to The Jungalow for a drink after closing?’ Sutton asked, polishing a stainless-steel vase behind the shop counter.
Mina rearranged knickknacks in a sales basket opposite. ‘Erm, I’m meant to be going to a dinner at my sister’s in-laws’. Or Lotta’s soon-to-be in-laws. ‘But I guess a quick drink won’t hurt.’
For a Friday, the day had kind of dragged. Maybe it was because Jadon hadn’t been hovering around, keeping her on edge. She really was a sucker for punishment. That morning, he’d left a curt message on the answering machine saying he wouldn’t be in, without elaborating. Perhaps he’d chosen to spend the day with his dad for once. Mina didn’t want to think about whether the slow day also meant he could be right about the shop needing to lift its game, or else …
The Jungalow wasn’t even her favourite place to hang out. It was a magnet for wicked witches with its dark gilt wallpaper, swing-seats, and hanging baskets. But it was just a hop, skip and a jump from the store.
Sutton winked. ‘A quick tipple it is.’ She held up the vase she’d been polishing and pointed an elbow at a tub of paste cleaner. ‘Man, that stuff is magic. I should add it to my witch kit, along with my MagicSponge, ha.’
‘Oh, it is pretty amazing.’ If only Sutton knew what other magic Mina had at her disposal …
Resting down the vase, Sutton switched to fossicking in the soil of a Christmas cactus on the counter. She pulled out a necklace with a purple agate geode pendant, shaking off the dirt. ‘My crystal is charged. Thank you, plant energy. And I’m ready to go.’ She fastened the dainty chain behind her neck.
Mina smiled weakly. If only she and Sutton could have traded places. Sutton would have given her right arm to be a real witch. And her right leg.
After more knickknack arranging, Mina headed behind the counter to grab her grey motorcycle-style jacket. It’d have to complete her after-work drinks outfit, which also included a navy-and-white striped tee and khaki-green ripped jeans.
Moments later, she found herself at The Jungalow’s circular bar with Sutton. The bar top glowed with globs of green like a lava lamp. Despite it being only early in the evening, the place was packed, and pulsated with ironic Billy Idol music and mischief.
‘Witching hour,’ Mina whispered into her (rather fancy) green ant-infused gin cocktail, realisation dawning on her.
‘This place is the best, huh?’ Sutton replied, blessedly misinterpreting what Mina had meant.
Despite her return smile, Mina was kicking herself that she hadn’t checked her lunar calendar or menstrual cycle app before showing up. Forget ladies’ happy hour. It was the night of a full moon when witches the world over ovulated and their feminine energy was at its fullest, Mina included. Yup, they were all in sync. Total lunar-cy! Worse, for the dark witches, it meant that they were also at their wickedest, and most frisky. Watch out any female competitors who dared cross their path.
It was the one time of the month that the local sorceresses were lenient about public spell work, so long as it was conducted in shadowy lighting. The dark witches themselves were like Lotta’s glossy posse times ten, with their Instagrammable outfits, model figures and cruel smiles. But they had an extra edge: magical powers. Speaking of witch … Gardenia, the queen bee, was now cutting through the crowd with her blonde bestie, Amantha.
This fact didn’t go unnoticed by Sutton. She sighed, toying with the straw in her lime and absinthe punch. ‘Gardenia Prado is so glamorous. That dress looks like liquid gold.’
Sutton wasn’t even aware that Gardenia was the full Morticia Addams either.
‘Glamorous is one word for her,’ Mina muttered into her drink. Too bad it wasn’t the last she was to see of the wicked pair. They made a beeline for the bar, sidling up alongside her, further proof of how cursed she was.
After Gardenia had ordered raspberry vodkas, she turned to Mina. ‘Why hello again.’ Oozing her usual ‘hex appeal’, she stroked a black hand muff on one arm. Dark witches didn’t differentiate between day and night wear.
‘H-hi,’ Mina returned, reminded of their last run-in when she’d almost been caught selling spells.
Sutton leant back, smiling at Amantha, clearly keen to be part of things. ‘Wow, love your necklace!’
‘Oh, thanks. I like yours too.’ Amantha played with the little glass vial, hanging from a silver ball-chain around her neck. ‘This one’s from my new aroma-diffusing range. With it, you get the benefits of aromatherapy as you move about all day.’
Along with having magical powers, Amantha was a fashion jewellery designer, her wares stocked statewide. Of course, none of the dark witches had ordinary jobs, like Mina in retail.
‘Want a sniff?’ Amantha offered Sutton, already loosening the vial’s shiny lid.
‘For sure.’ Sutton leapt off her stool, hovering her nose over the opening. ‘Ooh, peppermint.’
Mina bit her lip, knowing that Amantha could have magicked the liquid into smelling however she liked. Suddenly, she was gripped by the force of a sneeze ripping through her. Then another, and another. Mina covered her nose with a hand and scrabbled for a tissue in her pocket.
‘Gesundheit,’ Gardenia offered coolly.
‘Thanks,’ Mina mumbled, wiping at her nose. In between, she caught something shadowy moving on Gardenia’s arm … as though her wintry muff had come to life. Oh, gawd. That wasn’t a fashion accessory she was wearing, but a black cat on a leash! Mina had
been deceived yet again.
‘I’m allergic to cats,’ she couldn’t help adding defensively as she shoved her tissue away.
Gardenia’s jaw practically unhinged. ‘Allergic to cats?’ She threw back her head and laughed. Even her laugh was bewitching. Witch bitch. ‘Hilarious.’ Then she scooped up her drink and sashayed away with her mate, much to Sutton’s dismay.
Mina watched the fallout as the terrible two moved through the bar. One girl, who’d just exited the ladies’, suddenly had her tag showing on the outside of her skirt, like it’d been flipped inside-out. Nearby, another woman, checking her make-up in a compact, began wailing to a friend about a volcanic chin zit that’d just popped up. Thank the moon Mina was immune to the pair’s (unconscious or otherwise) evildoing.
‘Ew, gross!’ Sutton was now pulling a face at her drink. ‘An earwig’s crawled into my straw.’
Mina swallowed a sigh. She so wanted to tell Sutton just how bad news Gardenia and her crew really were. But the first rule of Witch Club was you didn’t talk about witch stuff. Throughout history, humans had persecuted witches, good or evil. Even around someone as witch-curious as Sutton, Mina couldn’t let her guard down. So instead she said, ‘I’ll get you another drink.’
Sutton shook her head, though, ditching her bamboo straw. ‘It’s cool. I’m sure the alcohol’s killed any germs.’
Mina shrugged. ‘No probs.’ Then she made the mistake of glancing behind.
Her gaze locked with a passer-by’s. A guy, named Riley, she’d dated many moons ago. Rather appropriately, he was an entomologist, or insect researcher. He was also nice to a fault, with side-parted dark hair, Labrador-brown eyes and a goofy smile.
After she’d cast a spell, so he’d stop calling her, he now imagined she smelled like garlic. Gallons of potent, creamy garlic sauce. It was her own form of ex-repellant, complementing her Italian ancestry. She could date, but not with suitors who wanted anything more.
She wasn’t sure what he’d attributed her sudden change in odour to. Maybe he thought she’d started taking garlic supplements. Who knew? At any rate, the spell had worked like a charm. Or, well, like the exact opposite of anything charming.
He stopped in his tracks, too gentlemanly to ignore her despite his wrinkling nose. ‘Mina! Buona zero.’
He’d meant buona sera—good evening—but despite also being an Italophile, Riley had a habit of mangling the language. She said hi and slid off her stool, all set to keep her distance for his benefit. But he was too quick, leaning in for a cheek peck.
He looked flushed as he pulled away again, probably from the effort of just breathing through his mouth. ‘So excellento to see you. I’ve been meaning to call.’ Liar, liar, pants on fire. ‘Did you, er, just come from dinner?’
‘No, but I will be heading off to one soon.’
Riley looked frightened, clearly still trying to work out the cause of her eau de garlic. If only they weren’t both so unfailingly nice—and Sutton wasn’t too busy scoping out the room—they might have ended the conversation already.
‘And how’s bug life?’ Mina pushed on.
‘Oh, good, good,’ Riley enthused. ‘I’ve been doing a lot of fieldwork lately, which I always enjoy …’ He paused with a frown, then reached into his chino pocket, pulling out a battered wallet. ‘Sorry to be random, but I went to a new dental clinic recently and I’ve been recommending them to everyone. I, uh, don’t know what reminded me. Anyway, they’re very thorough and won’t rip you off. Please, have a card.’
‘Oh … thanks.’ Mina accepted the bit of glittery white cardboard, unsure what had prompted the spiel. Realisation swept over her. It was another of his efforts to help sort out her breath!
Riley offered up an awkward smile. ‘Seriously, it’s the best clinic I’ve ever been to. Next time you’re due for a checkup, or even if you’re not, give them a go.’ His look was loaded with meaning. ‘Anyway, I’d better go. I’m meant to be catching up with a … cousin of mine. I just dropped in to see some workmates. Nice to run into you again.’
Really, he was probably off to meet another woman—one who didn’t smell—but she appreciated his tact. She waved him buona zero, never seeing someone move so fast to get away from her. Obviously, in his case, her ‘stench’ had cancelled out any of her ovulation pheromones.
As she was about to take her seat, she clocked another familiar figure striding through the crowd—in her direction. What a night. The Cyndi Lauper track playing jumped on the turntable, as though out of surprise too.
‘J-Jadon, hi,’ she stammered as he approached, feeling like a house plant that’d gone without water for too long. Ridonkulous. He was dressed more casually than usual in a navy crewneck and designer jeans. Unfortunately, it wasn’t only professional attire that made him look good.
He worked up a half-smile, which was a good effort for him. ‘Evening.’
Sutton reminded Mina of her presence, jumping up to exclaim, ‘You came! I wasn’t sure if you got my text. Like our local watering hole?’
Sutton had invited him along? Sheesh.
‘Unique place,’ Jadon observed, looking around stiffly like he had a cricked neck.
‘Well, you can take my seat for now,’ Sutton said. ‘Nature calls. I’ll be back soon.’
This left Mina to sink onto her own stool beside him in Sutton’s wake. She gazed up at the gleaming bottles on the shelves as though they might offer small talk options.
Jadon beat her to it, though, pushing up his sleeves. ‘So, was that Alessio just before?’
‘Alessio?’ She furrowed her brow. ‘Ohhh. You mean Arlo?’ She could have hexed her nonna for ever mentioning her ex. ‘No, no, it wasn’t him, just an … old friend.’
‘A dentist, huh?’
She swiped at the business card she’d inadvertently dropped on the bar top, shoving it in her pocket. ‘Something like that.’
‘He seemed in a hurry,’ Jadon said casually. ‘After-hours appointment maybe?’
She wasn’t sure she liked this teasing out-of-office side to him. It left her feeling off-balance. She reminded herself that, aside from the fact that it could never work between them, he probably had a glamazon waiting for him in Milan.
‘Maybe,’ she clipped. ‘I’ll have to rush off soon too, I’m afraid. I’ve got dinner plans.’
Jadon nodded, then turned to the approaching barman to order a whisky, neat. As he handed over his card, a streak of white paint glowed on the side of his palm. Huh. Mina hadn’t thought him the type to get his hands dirty. But she wasn’t about to give in and ask what he’d been up to all day.
After they’d sipped their drinks—her forgotten cocktail tasting like a Christmas tree—Jadon shot her another glance. ‘Where’s this dinner of yours then?’
In that moment, it dawned on her. Any semblance of interest from him was most likely due to witching hour. The effects would soon wear off. She felt herself relax.
‘Tonight’s to do with my sister again,’ she confessed. ‘Her groom’s parents have invited my mum, Nonna and me over for dinner, along with the happy couple. I guess so both sides of the family can get to know each other better before the wedding. The whole thing has happened kind of fast.’
Jadon lifted his glass, swirling the honeyed remnants. ‘Your dad’s not in the picture, I take it?’
No beating around the cherry bush for him. Not that his parents, clearly, had had a perfect relationship either. In that, she and him actually had something in common. ‘Uh, no, he hasn’t been on the scene for a while—’
‘Miss me?’
Mina spun around, grateful to hear Sutton’s voice again. Unfortunately, as she turned, her bare knee, where her jeans were ripped, brushed against Jadon’s hand. A crackle of electricity zipped through her. Blooming hell.
She shot to her feet, keeping her eyes on Sutton. ‘You’re always missed. Unfortunately, I have to go. So, you can have my seat. But I’ll see you both next week.’
‘Okay,’ Sutton sai
d, giving her a half-hug.
‘Be good,’ Jadon farewelled her.
Which, conversely, only reminded Mina of all the ‘badness’ around them … the sex scent signals being secreted into the air, making Gardenia and her gang even more attractive that evening, if that was possible. No doubt, as soon as Mina left, they’d be all over Jadon like a vine. Guilt-free good times, after all, were their specialty.
Despite all this, she turned and headed through the crowd. The sad fact was there was nothing she could do about it. She had somewhere else to be, a different life to lead. Jadon could (happily) fend for himself.
Why, oh why, did being good often feel so bad?
Chapter 7
‘Strega?’ Dino’s mother asked as she strode across her pool deck with a tray later that evening. Behind her, the city was spread out like a glittering blanket.
Mina’s pulse jumped at the woman’s word choice. Strega was Italian for ‘witch’. Nonna Rosetta, to her left, pressed a hand to her throat. ‘Excuse me?’
Mrs Vangeli drew closer, the contents of her tray coming into focus: yellow liqueur-filled shot glasses. Mina breathed out again. ‘Strega’ was also the name of the herbal aperitif, apparently developed around 1860 in Benevento, Italy’s ‘City of Witches’. But the history didn’t matter; Mrs Vangeli was just being hospitable.
Mina hastened to grab a glass, teetering a little in the heels she’d changed into. ‘Don’t mind if I do.’
Mrs Vangeli gave her a smile as big as, well, her hips and hair, then swept on to offer drinks to the rest of the family. The couple of the night, Lotta and Dino, stood stiffly by the lit-up pool like figurines on a wedding cake, seeming full of nerves.
Dino was the epitome of a beefed-up, big-armed guy who pumped iron, but probably couldn’t run a metre. Still, he doted on Lotta. In the height stakes, it was apparent he took after Mr Vangeli, who was busy with the outdoor pizza oven … Hopefully, Dino wouldn’t also follow his father into baldness.
While Mrs Vangeli served the pair, Mina’s mum went to nick an almond marzipan biscuit from a table. She’d toned it down that night in a fuzzy emerald-green top, matching turban headband, and thigh-high grey suede boots over jeans.