by Linsey Hall
But mostly, the wizard who needed it was losing his memory faster every day.
Poor bastard. I’d hate to go that way, and I’d do what I could to help a fellow Magica.
Carefully, I stirred the slender silver spoon. It looked out of place in my big, scarred hands, but I’d learned to be careful with tiny tasks.
A pounding echoed from the front of my bar, Potions & Pastilles. I frowned, glancing up at the clock on the wall. The pale white face was nearly hidden behind dozens of jars piled on the shelf right beneath it, but I could see that it was past three a.m.
“Who the hell is knocking at this hour?”
It was too late for the night owls who came for whiskey and too early for the coffee regulars. I ran Potions & Pastilles as a combo coffee shop and bar, and while I enjoyed it, it was primarily a front for my potions business. I made things that were so rare and deadly—and expensive—that it was good to have a front for the operation.
The Order of the Magica—our local government in Magic’s Bend—liked to ask too many questions. And I didn’t want to answer. Better that they know nothing.
And hell, over the years, I’d grown to like the work. There was something soothing about making lattes after a long night of brewing up deadly potions. Even the worst latte wouldn’t blow your head off.
The pounding sounded louder, and I scowled, killing the flame beneath the cauldron and turning to leave my lab. The place was silent tonight, my sister having recently moved into her boyfriend’s place. Technically, they were fated mates—it was a Fae thing that I was skeptical of, since I’d long ago renounced my Fae heritage—but they were definitely the real deal.
At the thought of the Fae, my hand went to my pocket, where a tiny vial of potion always sat. If I drank it, it would give me back my wings.
I’d been carrying it around for years, unwilling to take it. First, because my sister didn’t have her wings, and it wouldn’t fix her. I wouldn’t leave her in the dust.
But the main reason was that once I took the potion, it would begin a deadly transition. When I’d given up my wings, I’d also given up powerful magic. It’d been easy. But getting it back? That could be deadly. And taking the potion was just the first part. The second part: it was so unlikely I’d survive that it had never seemed worth it.
Not to mention the dreams…
Every time I thought of my lost powers, I saw an unknown Fae village burning. It was enough to keep me away.
The banging on the front door increased, and I shoved the thoughts away. Quickly, I cut through the long kitchen toward the swinging door that led to the main part of the bar. I pushed it open and stepped into the darkened interior of P&P, stopping behind the counter that separated the work area from the seating area.
It was so dark in here that the streetlights outside made the woman on the other side of the glass seem to glow. Her golden hair was pulled back, and though I couldn’t make out her features, I could tell that she was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt.
Even from this far away, the sight of her hit me in the gut like a demon’s punch. My breath seemed to leave my body.
Her.
What the hell? I rubbed a hand over my jaw, feeling the slight stubble that came from a long night in the lab.
“Hey!” her voice sounded through the glass. “Come on. Open up!”
I blinked at her, head still reeling. I’d never felt this way about a woman before.
But it was like something in me tugged me toward her, a wire that tightened, trying to draw us nearer. I shook the thought away and strode out from behind the bar.
As I neared, it was easier to see her delicate features through the glass doors. Full lips, big dark eyes, straight nose.
She was a stunner.
I’d never considered myself to be a guy with a type before, but suddenly I was. And it was her.
Quickly, I unlatched the door and swung it open.
The first thing that struck me was her scent—lilacs. It wasn’t the scent of her magic, though. It was just the scent of her. And damned if I didn’t like it.
I was drawing it into my lungs when her hand slammed into my chest and she shoved me back into the bar. Heat shot from the spot where her hand pressed against me, and I did my best to ignore it.
“Hey, watch it,” I said.
She kept pushing as I stumbled back, then withdrew her hand.
Immediately, I felt a sense of loss. Everything in me screamed to pull her toward me and kiss her, but that was ridiculous. I’d just met her.
She spun and shut the door behind her, then locked it.
“Someone after you?” I asked. Protectiveness surged inside me, a sensation I’d only ever felt with my sister and a few of my closest friends.
But there was something about it that was more…more primal. Intense. Compelling.
She turned back to me and crossed her arms. “You’re the Alchemist?”
“Potion Master.”
“Potato, potahto.” She looked me up and down. “You’re just…not what I was expecting, Mr. Alchemist.”
“What were you expecting?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Little reedy guy? Good with his hands?”
“I’m very good with my hands.”
“Suuuure.” Despite her tone, there was definitely interest in her voice. And suddenly, I was pretty damned interested in convincing her. She gestured to me. “It’s just that you’re so…big.”
I glanced at the decorative mirror to my right, catching sight of myself. She wasn’t wrong. I loomed over her, my shoulders broad underneath my worn T-shirt.
“Checking yourself out?” she asked, a smile in her voice.
“Checking you out.” I turned back to her, feeling a matching grin stretch across my face.
She raised a brow. “So, that’s how it’s going to be.”
I shrugged. “Not very often I have a beautiful woman show up on my doorstep at three a.m.”
“Well, get those thoughts out of your head. I want to hire you.”
“For what?” My gaze swept her form again, searching for an aura or any other hint of her magical signature. Weirdly, she was pretty much a black hole. “What are you, anyway? I can’t get a sense of it, and I’m not keen on working for someone I can’t identify.”
She scoffed. “We don’t all walk around with our signatures hanging out, you know.”
“Yeah, but even people who are suppressing theirs clearly have some touch of magic.” I drew in a breath, but I only got the scent of lilacs. No magic. “And you must have some, if you’re here in Magic’s Bend.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not a sneaky human who somehow wandered past the wards of your fair hamlet.”
“Then what are you?”
“None of your business. I’m nothing sinister. It’s just that where I come from, we keep our signatures on the down-low. All of us.”
“And where do you come from?”
“Not sure I want to tell you that. Not until I get your agreement to help me.”
I’d help her.
Immediately, I knew I’d help her.
Not that I wanted her to know that. Talk about laying all your cards on the table. I didn’t even know her name, but I was pretty sure I wanted her to marry me.
“What do you need?”
“An Expulsio potion.”
A laugh escaped me. “Really, what do you need?”
“I just told you.”
Damn it. She was being serious. I raked a hand through my hair. “Those things are almost impossible to find ingredients for. You got them?”
“No.”
“Know where to get them?”
“No.” She shrugged. “Well, maybe. I don’t know what’s in an Expulsio potion. But if you tell me, maybe I can get the stuff. I know some people.”
“Why do you need it so bad?” Expulsios were damned valuable. They could be used to wipe memories or create new ones. “I’m not keen on making it for someone I don’t even know.”
S
he frowned, and her gaze moved left, away from mine.
“You look shifty.”
She scowled at me. “I do not.”
“How about you start by telling me your name?”
She frowned. “I didn’t do that, did I?”
“No. You just jumped into what you needed, which makes me think you’re in trouble.”
“Am not.”
“Oh, my gods, you’re a terrible liar.”
She scowled at me, and it was so cute I wanted to hug her.
Whoa. That was weird. Totally not a thought I normally had about women I’d just met.
“Come on, you can tell me.” I raised my hands, gesturing to the coffee shop around me. “I’ll even make you a drink. Whiskey or coffee?”
“Both?”
“Irish coffee, coming right up.” I turned, striding quickly back to the bar. I wanted to give her some space, and hell, I needed some space. I looked back at her. “But you need to tell me your name.”
“Sora.”
A frisson of something raced over me. Like things finally falling into place. I shook it away. Crazy. “I’m Connor.”
“Hi, Connor.”
It didn’t take me long to make the coffee, but I chose straight whiskey for myself. I handed her drink to her, and the way she clutched it had the slightest air of desperation to it.
She grabbed it the way you’d grab a glass of wine at a dinner party with your asshole boss, or a glass of whiskey after you’d witnessed a murder.
Something had happened to her, and I found myself wanting to fix it.
Sora
The hot alchemist stared at me with real concern in his dark eyes—like real, actual, concern.
He looked like some kind of fantasy version of a bad boy rocker who made magic potions with his big, sexy hands and bench-pressed refrigerators for fun. He had the kind of muscles that were built in battle, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off his arms. Which was really shallow of me, but… Not all of my moments were proud ones.
He was worlds different than the Devil of Darkvale—my kind of different.
Just as hot, just as deadly, but with a core of goodness that I’d be able to see from a mile away. Both men possessed the same icy control, but whereas the Devil was an actual icicle, this guy could thaw. And when he did, he’d be hot.
But mostly, it was just that he reminded me of Captain America with dark hair, and I’d always been into superheroes. And his faint British accent reminded me of home, which I liked.
Which was how I ended up spilling the whole story to him, leaving out only the fact that I possessed wonky void magic. That I would save for another day. People were generally scared of me since I could, like, make them disappear and stuff.
When I finally wound down, I stared at him.
Oh, my goblin guts.
I could not believe I’d just spilled all of that to him.
Motormouth? Check!
I grinned weakly. “So, you wanna help?”
He leaned back, his broad shoulders stretching his T-shirt. There was a dark gray emblem on it that I couldn’t identify, but he spoke before I could ask about it, his vaguely British accent very light, as if he’d lived here for years and had mostly adopted an American way of speaking. “You’re saying you stole from the most dangerous person in Guild City?”
“You’ve heard of him?”
“Sure. Never met him, though.”
“Ever been to Guild City?”
“No reason to go.” He raked a hand through his longish dark hair, the muscles of his forearm cording and creating shadows that made my mouth water. Two thick leather cuffs encircled his wrists, and they looked like there might be tiny glass vials built into them on the inside.
I wanted to ask about them, but I needed to focus on getting his help first. “If you help me, I’ll give you a tour.”
“Not sure I want to go somewhere owned by a guy like that.”
“I’ll make it a beer tour.”
“Like a date?” He raised his eyebrows again, clearly interested.
“Could be.” He was just as far out of my league as the Devil, but at least Connor was playing a game I wanted to join. I leaned closer, propping my arms on the bar and trying to ignore the amazing smell of his skin. Soap and evergreen.
Not to mention his magic.
Hoo boy, these Magic’s Bend folks sure let their magic all hang out. That would never be allowed in Guild City. The Council of the Guilds—London’s Magical Government—had decreed that all citizens keep their magic on extreme lockdown, since our little town was hidden inside a bigger human city. It’d do us no favors to have a ton of magic seething around the place.
This guy, though. His magic smelled like whiskey and felt like a warm hug. Tasted like good chocolate and sounded like a river rushing downstream.
And he was hot enough to melt both sets of my panties. I’d put on an extra pair since my magic had eaten my last ones in front of three strangers. It was a weird way of coping, but hey, it was mine.
Yeah, I liked him.
In an I want to jump your bones kind of way.
“Why did you try to steal it?” he asked.
“I needed it.”
“That’s a terrible answer.” He dragged a hand down his face, his eyes wary but interested.
“It’s all I’ve got. But I promise I wasn’t going to do anything terrible with it.” I tried to force my sincerity toward him, tried to make him believe me by my voice alone.
It seemed to satisfy him—or at least, he was still curious enough not to kick me out—because he asked, “So, if you bring this potion to the mob boss, he’ll let you return to your home?”
I nodded. “Yep.”
“And do you know what he’s going to do with the potion?”
“No.”
“Do you care?”
“Kind of?” I shrugged. “The Devil of Darkvale is powerful. Dangerous. Deadly. I don’t want to get on his bad side. But he’s got…rules.”
“What kind of rules?”
“He’ll only hurt—like, really hurt—those who are as powerful as he is. Or evil. Trust me, there are way worse people in Guild City than him.”
“And yet, you’re still scared of him.”
“Hell, yeah. Because I’m not an idiot. He’d ruin my life, no problem.” I shivered at the thought of being kicked out of my only home.
“So how does he make his money if he’s so picky? Isn’t all the money in the bad stuff?”
“Depends on how you define ‘bad.’ I think for the Devil, it’s smuggling, mostly. Guild City has more regulations than you do here. He makes a mint getting around them. Sells magic, booze, access to power and status. He has everything he needs to make my life a living hell.”
“Fine. I’ll help you. But how did you find me, if you’re all the way over in Guild City?”
I scoffed. “Everyone knows about you, Alchemist.”
“No one calls me ‘Alchemist.’”
“I do, because it’s sexy.” I couldn’t believe my mouth. Flirting like this! But it was fun.
“We’ll come back to that sexy bit later. And we will definitely come back to it. But first, I want to know what I’m going to get out of this deal.”
“Besides the tour of Guild City?”
“You were serious?”
“Yeah. Guild City is nice. And not just anyone gets to visit.”
He gave me a skeptical look. “As nice as that sounds… I want more. How about a trade? What’s your species?”
I glared at him.
“You’re really not going to tell me your species?”
“What if I’m a hedgehog shifter and I’m embarrassed?”
“Oh, come on. Hedgehogs are adorable.”
I laughed. “Not in a fight.”
“I don’t know. Those quills could do some damage.”
“Sure.” I studied Connor, wanting to turn the conversation around. He had so much magic, his signatures nearly overwhelming.
> But there was something else about him…
Something about his magic that wasn’t quite complete.
Like me?
A frisson of excitement shot through me. Obviously, he was an insanely skilled potions master—I’d heard his name all the way over in Guild City. But was he like me a little bit, with a touch of wonky magic?
“Something about your signature is weird,” I said. “Incomplete.”
Shadows crossed his face, and I almost regretted the words. But I couldn’t stop them from coming out. I had to know. “Seriously, dude. What is it? Magic a bit broken?”
“I’ve got some wings that I don’t claim.” He shrugged. “What about you? I showed you mine, now you show me yours.”
A tiny huff of laughter escaped me. “You showed me barely anything.”
“Ask only a little of me, and I’ll ask only a little of you.”
I sighed. Hiding it this hard was making things weird. And I liked the idea that he wouldn’t ask details. Sure, it was as a way to protect his own secrets, but that was something we had in common. “I’m a Void Mage. So unless you want some magical disposal done, I can’t help you much.”
He leaned back and tapped one hand against his bicep, clearly thinking. My gaze was riveted to the unconscious display of strength. Hey, what could I say? I was easy.
“I don’t really need any magical disposal done,” he said. “But you’d come in handy in a big fight, if you could void the other side’s weapons.”
“Yes, I’d be fantastic at that.” I nodded, knowing my eyes were a bit bright and hoping he didn’t catch on to the fact that I was lying through my teeth. “Let’s do that.”
He nodded, clearly satisfied.
Relief flooded through me. I was on my way to fixing this, thank fates.
But I was totally ignoring the fact that I currently had no way to get the spell that would restore my magic. I’d originally been stealing the Expulsio potion to give it to Rodolfo the Red. Now I was trying to get it remade to replace the one I’d broken so that the Devil of Darkvale wouldn’t come after me, but that left me up shit creek regarding my magic.
“Actually…” I eyed him hopefully. “Could you make two Expulsio potions?”
“Why?”
My mind raced. “It would get me in the Devil’s good graces.”