A Drop in the Potion
by
Constance Barker
Copyright 2019 Constance Barker
All rights reserved.
Similarities to real people, places or events are purely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Thanks for Reading
Catalog of Books
Chapter 1
You would think a witch would be able to use her broom whenever and however she wanted. You would be wrong. Since witches are not always welcome in the realms of the non-witches, I was reduced to riding a bicycle to work. The broom would have been quicker and easier, but also infinitely more dangerous. So, I loaded my cart with the last harvest from my extensive garden and headed for downtown Goodsprings. It wasn’t a long ride. It wasn’t even difficult. It was merely chilly, since Autumn turned to Winter even in Georgia. Yes, witches kept the winter temperate (most winters), but year-around balmy weather would have lured in a raft of meteorologists. They would measure and sample and place weather stations and cameras all over. That wouldn’t do. If we witches were outed, well, burning witches at the stake might still be the preferred method of disposal. Far better to keep off the radar.
Halloween had passed, with its festival and hubbub, and Thanksgiving wasn’t far off. Short days meant pedaling in the dark, which wasn’t a problem most mornings. I had lights and reflectors I relied upon for safety. And the early risers who had to leave for work were aware of me; most of them were customers of Happy Blendings, my smoothie shop. They didn’t get the “eye-opener” special I made with coffee beans, apples, tea leaves, a touch of chocolate, some cabbage for absorption, and fresh goat’s milk. The “eye-opener” was exactly that. One of those, and anyone would be alert for hours. Of course, I toned down the ingredients if the customer was over sixty. Old hearts couldn’t take the jolt.
I parked my bike and cart behind the building. Even as I dismounted, David came out to help me with the baskets.
“What a great morning,” David said. “I can smell turkey in the air.”
“That’s the manure truck. Since they already sent all the toms to market, they’re cleaning out the turkey houses.”
David laughed. Big and strong, David aka Tank had been with me for a while, and he possessed a wild inventive streak. The morning was rare when he didn’t have some strange concoction ready for me to taste. He was looking for the ultimate energy drink, something that would taste great and provide enough energy for a difficult workout, all without adding pounds and draining wallets. He wasn’t afraid to try any mixture, which sometimes led to smoothies that were never finished.
“You have to taste today’s mix,” David said. “I won’t tell you what’s in it, but you’ll guess correctly. You always do. And, to tell the truth, I’m not sure how you do it.”
“Genes,” I answered. “I come from a long line of women who maintained extensive vegetable and flower gardens. Identifying veggies by taste is a necessity. After all, no one wants to be poisoned, not even accidentally.”
He carried off the baskets and laughed. “That’s why I am always the guinea pig. If it doesn’t kill me, I give it to you.”
“Gee, thanks,” I said. “You’re too considerate.”
Inside the shop, I helped David lay out the veggies in my own peculiar order. As a witch, I preferred a certain arrangement. Some veggies and leaves and spices didn’t play nice together. In a crush, I had to make sure I had grabbed the cinnamon, not the curry. David knew the routine. But before he got too involved, he pushed a glass in front of me.
“The morning brew,” he said with a grin.
I sniffed the “brew” and immediately identified kale, which wasn’t the ingredient I would have chosen for breakfast. Bacon might prove better. Besides the kale, there was jasmine tea, thyme, pear, pecans, and of course, coffee. What morning brew didn’t have coffee. And there was one scent that tantalized without giving up its source. That meant I would be forced to taste.
One thing about David was that he'd mastered the art of making a smoothie really smooth. No lumps. But while there weren’t any lumps in the “brew”, there was a texture akin to paste. That made it harder to swallow and also allowed me to ID the secret addition.
“How do you like it?” he asked.
“Tasty but thickish, don’t you think?”
“I know, I know, but I wanted something with some heft. You know, something like an ice cream soda.”
“But banana peels?” I asked.
He laughed. “Yeah, I was thinking about how people liked banana slices with their cereal. Why not the peels?”
“Not even monkeys eat the peels,” I said.
He laughed harder. “Did you hear about Windermere?”
Windermere Manor was located on the lake, and it was one of the oldest buildings in Goodsprings. It had been in a family of water witches for generations, and might have still belonged to one of them, if a greedy niece hadn’t killed off the owner. That niece, also a water witch, was now a frog confined to a terrarium at my house. She had morphed into her preferred avatar, without saving enough magical energy to return to her human form. That was a hazard of morphing into an avatar, which drained off magical power. With too little power, well, it wasn’t a pretty sight. Witches didn’t come equipped with infinite power. Practice and patience were needed to gauge how much magic could be used, and how much had to remain in reserve. Novice witches were especially prone to being trapped in their avatars.
Of course, neither I nor the other witches of the Goodsprings coven were especially eager to bring back Lily, the water witch who had murdered her aunt. Lily might have proved useful in breaking the rain spell she put on Windermere Manor where it rained every day, sometimes on the inside. A twenty second rain while sitting at dinner made for a difficult life. Most people thought it was simply some malfunction of air-conditioning and humidity. Most people didn’t believe in witches.
“What about Windermere?” I asked.
“It’s been sold,” David answered.
“You’re kidding. Who bought it?”
“No one knows for sure. Some millionaire with more money than sense, if you ask me. Who wants a wet house?”
I might have mused with him about the possible new owner, but I had a business to run, profits to earn. I wasn’t in any condition to buy a place like Windermere. Not that I wanted such a place. But I would have liked to make enough money to repaint my small house. Was that asking too much? I unlocked the door, turned on the red neon “OPEN” sign and waited for our first customer. I didn’t wait long.
Happy Blendings possessed its own mix of faithful customers. Most opted for the same smoothie every morning, a routine. Some ventured into new areas, perhaps the smoothie of the day. Once in a while, a regular would opt for something completely out of character. That was when I knew something was different—one way or anoth
er. People changed their habits in order to change their life. But I never pried. If they offered, I listened. That was it. Every customer commented on the decorations David had placed all about the shop. His two-headed turkeys drew stares, which tickled him to no end. And his Pilgrims seemed to always be in a line of sight. No one could say he didn’t have a sense of humor.
Phineas Lichen arrived at the end of the rush. Phineas was a peculiar older man, primarily because he took his pet rooster, Chuckles, with him everywhere he went. His broad, straw hat was visible a block away, and the big bag he sometimes had looped over his shoulder seemed to be bottomless. He could pull out the most arcane items. I sometimes wondered if he stuffed old cuckoo clocks into the bag just to rile people.
“What’s new today?” Phineas asked.
I pointed to the chalk board and its list of smoothies. At the very top was the smoothie of the day. Phineas smiled as he read the list. He liked to take his time.
“Wheatgrass,” he said. “Always a favorite.”
Wheatgrass was the only smoothie Phineas ever ordered. He was the person who started the day with bacon and eggs, even if chocolate pancakes were on the menu. As I blended the smoothie, I engaged Phineas, who was always a joy to listen to.
“Did you hear about the manor?” I asked.
“Indeed, I did,” he answered. “A bit of a mystery, isn’t it? Who would invest in that place?”
“It’s quite nice, I think,” I said. “And it’s full of town history.”
“Perhaps, but who can know? The former owner didn’t have many visitors. And I think, perhaps, the new owner won’t have many either.”
“Why would you say that?”
He smiled. “Deduction, Samantha, deduction. If you had millions and could afford to live most anywhere, why would you choose Goodsprings? We’re not exactly part of the in-crowd or jet set. Someone moving here seeks a quiet life.”
I could see that Phineas had thought about the matter, and he was undoubtedly right. Whoever had bought Windermere was probably a recluse. Maybe the manor spoke to hermits.
Phineas took his smoothie and his rooster out the back, to the patio. With the morning sun, the patio would be pleasant, not as hot as during the summer. Many mornings, Phineas read a book while he sipped. Many mornings, I envied him.
As the pace slowed, I took a look at my phone. Tessa, the fire witch who ran the Good Eats Grill, had left a message. “Call me” wasn’t much of a message, but it was direct. Tessa had a way of being very direct. If something didn’t please her, she would sometimes set it on fire. That was always risky, but Tessa took risks.
“Mara is back,” Tessa said by way of greeting. “We’re all coming to your place this afternoon. Four. Be ready.”
She killed the connection before I even had a chance to utter a word. I knew that the Grill was always busy. Locals and non-locals loved the gourmet meals they could get in the humble confines of a diner. That Tessa could cook was without question. That she would toss out a person who disrespected her culinary art was simply who Tessa was. Even I was reluctant to criticize Tessa’s food.
That Mara was back buoyed my spirits. While trying to solve a murder, Mara had become infected with black magic, a very serious thing for a good witch. It was so bad, she had traveled to Iceland and the Spring of Helium, reputed to be the best spa for removing a black magic infection. That Mara was back meant that she had successfully finished the spa regimen. Otherwise, she would've headed for someplace other than Goodsprings. Black magic was...well...to be avoided.
As the meeting hour approached, I told David to take a lunch break. Like me, he often worked into the evening, which meant for a long day. Taking an hour or two off during the slack time renewed his energy. He grinned and told me he was going for a bike ride. David and motorcycles were made for each other. Of course, the “HD” tattoo on his arm was recognized by all true bikers, who invariably rode a Harley-Davidson.
Genevive was the first to arrive, which was expected. She half smiled and pushed up her glasses as I turned off the “OPEN” sign and flipped on the “CLOSED” one.
“Where, where do you want me to sit?” Genevive asked.
“Anywhere.” I answered. “We’re going to be a complete coven today.”
“We are?”
I heard the fear in her voice. Genevive was the newest and youngest member of the coven. She was a water witch and appeared to have a good amount of power. Unfortunately, she was untrained and lacked confidence in her abilities. In time, I was certain she would become a valued member of the coven, but at the moment, she was unknown territory.
“Mara is back,” I said. “So, it will be you, me, Tessa, and Mara. You’re alright with that?”
“I...sure, I guess.”
“Don’t worry about a thing. As far as I know, we have no true coven business to address. I think it’s more of a welcome home party for Mara.”
“That’s cool,” Genevive said. “Because if you asked me to do a spell, I’m not sure I could get it right.”
“You’ve been practicing?” I asked.
“Oh yes, and I started an online program in water spells. I think I know how to do it, and I do try, really try, but sometimes, it just doesn’t work.”
“It’s a shame there isn’t another water witch to guide you, but we’re all here to help where we can.”
Genevive brushed back her straw-colored hair and pushed up her glasses again. She was a bit on the pudgy side, which meant she spent more time in Good Eats than in Happy Blendings. Still, she was sincere, a very good sign. I left to make some smoothies that were almost guaranteed to keep the meeting fruitful.
Mara and Tessa arrived together. Mara had a big bag which she plopped on the table. I arrived with the smoothies, and we all hugged.
“Welcome home,” I said.
“You have no idea how happy I am to be here,” Mara said. “The Spring of Helium is a wonderful place, but it’s Iceland...in November. And that’s nothing like Goodsprings, Georgia.”
We laughed. Mara sounded just like her old self, before the black magic. She looked healthy also. As a wind witch, there was always some whispering about her, some hint of breeze. And sometimes, her hair fluffed up for no reason. Well, for no reason most people could find.
“I brought gifts,” Mara said and opened the bag.
“You’re giving me a bad name,” Tessa said. “I almost never bring gifts.”
Tessa possessed the black hair and eyes of a siren. At times, she looked as fetching as a work of art. At other times, her temper turned her eyes into glowing coals that scared everyone, even me. I sometimes wondered how she had managed to travel the world with those eyes and remain secret. I knew that at some point I would ask—at some point.
“For you, Genevive,” Mara began. “Here is the magic oil of Vedenemo, the ancient goddess of Iceland, and a witch, if I know my witches. It’s said to add power and strength when applied to the forehead. But my advice is to use it sparingly. These magic oils can carry a terrific wallop.”
Genevive smiled at the bottle of oil. “I’ve read about magic oils. And I promise to keep any use to drops.”
Mara brought out a small, wooden box and set it in front of Tessa. “I didn’t know it until I got there, but the Spring of Helium is reputed to be one of the ten best spots for magical romance. I know, we don’t practice love spells., but they exist. This, however, is perfume, very special perfume. Don’t wear it around anyone you don’t want to charm.”
Tessa touched the box. “Sometimes, I think I can charm a snake. Wait, I think I did that in Paris once. I had to kick Francois out of my apartment—three times.”
We all laughed. Tessa had the best stories, when she deigned to tell them. She didn’t because her teenage daughter, Allie, a fledgling fire witch, was prone to using those stories to her advantage.
“For you, Sam,” Mara said to me. “I brought seeds.”
Mara produced two small, linen bags that she handed to me.
/> “These seeds are not native to Iceland. One will produce a tuber of sorts, something that produces a feeling of well-being, something just short of euphoria. Add it to a stew or, should I say, smoothie, and you’ll feel good all day long.”
“I’ll try it on my customers,” I said. “Maybe, they’ll leave a tip.”
We all laughed again.
“Thank you for the gifts,” I said. “They will be put to good use. But the best gift of all is your return.”
A tear ran down Mara’s cheek. “You have no idea how good it is to be here. There were times, even at the spa, where I wasn’t sure I would make it back. I love you all.”
Even the fiery Tessa melted as we all stood for a group hug. I felt the power of the coven course through us. While we all possessed a modicum of power, the combination of our powers was something exponentially larger. Together, we could accomplish wondrous things. I felt that. I knew that. We were whole once more. That meant a good season for Goodsprings, or so I thought.
As the days shortened, so did the hours of Happy Blendings. The locals hied to their homes as the sun set. I sent David on his way, as he had a bit of a ride home. I turned off the lights and locked the doors and climbed onto my bike. The ride to my house was a bit uphill, which was nothing too difficult with an empty cart. As I pedaled, I observed the moon rising over the trees. The night was tranquil, almost serene. Winter was coming, but winter in Goodsprings was generally benign. At home, I checked on my indoor garden, the herbs and spices I needed in my shop. The big, outside garden would soon go mostly dormant. That meant little work until the spring. Fine with me. I readied for bed, feeling a bit ill at ease. I should have been on cloud nine. Mara was back, and Genevive completed the coven, and I had some exotic seeds to nurture. I should have been nothing but grins. I should have...
I looked out the window at the full moon, an orb that always drew me to her. That was when I saw something very strange fly across the moon.
Chapter 2
I blinked at the moon and wondered if my eyes had played a trick on me. Certainly, nothing had flown across the moon, not at the moon. To see something like that would mean the object was the size of the Empire State Building—or larger. No, something had flown between me and the moon, and it wasn’t a witch on a broom. I was certain of that. Mara and Tessa were too discreet for that. Genevive was too inexperienced for broom flying. But something had crossed the moon, and that something was black and unrecognizable. I told myself it was some moth or something, and it was the perspective that was all wrong. Put something close enough to the eyes, and it would block out the moon entirely. I turned away from the window and headed for my office. Well, it was a bedroom really, closet and everything. I had converted it to an office more than a few years ago. Everyone needed a computer station, didn’t they?
A Drop in the Potion Page 1