Page 3 of A Witch’s Guide to Love and Poison

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A fter selling orders to her usual customers, then collecting new shoes for Mei, Bisma went to the bakery for those chocolate chip muffins the girls loved. At least Old Town wasn’t filled with all bad characters. The baker and her family were kind, good people.

Bisma waved at the baker and her husband, then at their son behind the counter, who donned an apron.

‘Hello!’ Haru said. He was a sweet-faced boy of fifteen with silky black hair; it was easy to see why he was the object of Luna’s daydreams.

He looked over Bisma’s shoulder, as if searching for someone.

Bisma lifted Nori up so she could wave at Haru. ‘I’m afraid she’s my only companion today,’ Bisma said, giving him a small smile. There was no one else in the bakery, so she did not have to worry about maintaining her surly attitude. ‘Eight muffins and a loaf of bread, please.’

He gathered her order, and she paid.

‘Please tell—’ He broke off, looking away. His ears tinged pink. ‘Tell your … sisters I send my regards.’

Bisma nodded, trying not to laugh at the poor boy. ‘I will.’

She stashed the goods on her cart and left the bakery, Nori beside her. Once outside, Bisma’s smile immediately faded. She glared at passersby, scanning the crowds before looking to Nori. ‘Ready to go home?’ she asked.

‘Aw, Baji!’ Nori pouted. ‘A little longer!’ She held onto the edge of Bisma’s dress, pulling. ‘Please, please, please!’

‘Tch, Nori,’ Bisma said, unable to say no.

She looked up and was promptly distracted by a familiar figure. As her heart rate spiked violently, and her glare hardened, Nori took the opportunity to skip back into the bakery to Haru. Though the figure was across the square, she would recognize that obnoxious face from any distance.

Xander Chapman.

He strode toward her, and even his walk was detestable, those ridiculous long legs clad in black trousers made of fine material and leather boots that were so clean, they shone. His strides were confident; he practically sauntered.

He wore a white blouse with billowing sleeves and a waistcoat that accented his slim waist and outrageously broad shoulders. The waistcoat was emerald green, the same shade as his eyes. The only thing worse than the waistcoat was his hair: silky locks that were the deep copper-brown of leaves in autumn and which added a good few inches to his already towering height.

More than a handful of village girls stared at him, pointing and giggling. Bisma’s hands tightened around her cart as he approached. She considered making a run for it, but knowing Xander, he would only chase after her.

Deplorable man.

‘Well met, Bis,’ he said, standing in front of her. He flashed her a brilliant smile, showcasing his perfect teeth and those deep dimples in his flawless cream-colored skin.

One of her eyes twitched. That was another thing. He sometimes called her by a nickname, as though they were intimate friends.

‘Alexander.’ She put as much disdain as she could into each syllable. She did not even know if Alexander was his full name, but it was the opposite of calling him a nickname. Not that he cared; his lips spread into another easy smile.

He was always smiling.

And why wouldn’t he? What worry in the world did he have? He was rich, loved, respected, beautiful, and … good.

She hated him and his perfect life.

He had both his parents, and they were madly in love with another, and it was clear that their only child had been born of that love and was doted on as a result. He had spent most of his youth in Whitebridge receiving a private education and had returned to Old Town a few years ago, where he had easily slotted into his family’s business, made friends with just about every local, and had girls falling at his feet wherever he went.

The very people who spat on Bisma as she walked past practically kissed the ground Xander walked on.

And like the spoiled, bored man that he was, he was constantly trying to entrap her.

Why else would he go out of his way to see her whenever she came to town? Xander had no reason to be interested in her in any genuine way. He had everything a guy could want—why would he ever want her, an Unwanted Girl, and the very worst one at that?

He looked at her with those glittering green eyes and charming smile, asking her questions in his posh velvet accent, only to seduce and humiliate her.

Bisma had heard the stories from her elder sisters when she was younger; how the boys of Old Town loved to place bets to see who might tame one of the Unwanted Girls, how they would pretend to be enamored by them only to drop them once their conquest was complete.

Bisma had seen first-hand how Eva had fallen in love with a villager who had only been playing with her. He broke her heart, and Eva cried for weeks.

Even then, Bisma had not heeded her older sisters’ warnings, until at the age of sixteen, she grew feelings for a villager of her own and faced the very same fate.

She had sworn she would never fall for it again.

No matter how adamant Xander was with his ridiculous attentions, bringing her flowers or sweets or, worst of all, kind words and an even kinder gaze, she would not succumb to his nefarious plans.

Case in point: Xander pulled a flower from his breast pocket and held it out for her between long, slender fingers. She watched as the yellow petals morphed to dark emerald green to match the birthday dress she was wearing beneath her black sweater.

Xander was a garden-witch—just like her—but he was an obnoxious show-off, where Bisma was not.

He bent forward, and she inhaled the spicy sweet scent of cloves that always emanated from him. With a smile, he held the flower out for her. She plucked it from his hand and held it between her mehndi-covered fingers. His face grew pleased, dimples appearing in his cheeks.

Until rot spread through the flower, darkening the petals till they shriveled. Bisma dropped the flower and stomped on it, grinding it into the dirt for good measure.

Rather than be offended, his smile only deepened. Stubborn ass!

He placed a hand on his heart. ‘You do know how to make a man feel special.’

‘Man?’ she asked, looking around. ‘Where? I only see an overgrown boy.’

‘I am a year older than you, you know,’ he said in his know-it-all voice. ‘And on that note, happy belated birthday. That was what the flower was for, by the way. Before you mercilessly killed it.’

She narrowed her eyes; he was thorough. How did he find out when her birthday was?

Then, as if realizing something, his smile faded. His expression grew somber. ‘Oh, that means Eva must be gone. You must miss her.’

Even the people of Old Town knew about the Enchanted Forest and its rules. With his words, Bisma’s heart felt as though it had been pierced with a dozen tiny thorns. Before she could stop herself, her eyes teared up. He was cruel, rubbing salt into her wound in such a manner, reminding her of her grief.

She had been sorry to have been away from town for so long, but now she felt she should have stayed away longer if only to avoid him .

‘I haven’t seen you in some time,’ Xander said, changing the subject. His eyes sparkled. ‘Old Man Hughes was asking for a potion for his stomach ache, said what you’d given him had helped, but not quite enough.’

She’d given him a simple potion that should have alleviated his pain, but the fact that it hadn’t meant that this was no simple stomach bug; likely, the old man had an infection. She’d need to use the root of karu—a deep blue flower, spotted with green and white—to make a potion for him, something Xander easily could have done.

She arched her brow. ‘Not clever enough to make it yourself?’

She wondered why he hadn’t taken the chance to steal a customer from her while she had been away. These past few years, Bisma has had consistent and loyal customers, but it was nothing compared to Xander’s family business. The Chapman Apothecary had been around since Old Town was founded over two hundred years ago; most of the villagers bought directly from the Apothecary, which was why most of Bisma’s clientele were those looking for poisons, not potions.

Xander shrugged easily. ‘Hughes is your customer.’

She frowned. His kindness was a trick, she was sure. The wind blew through his copper hair as she regarded him closely. He let her, not the least perturbed by her assessing gaze, whereas the other villagers avoided her glance the moment she set it upon any of them.

‘You know,’ he said, ‘if you supplied your potions to the Apothecary, we could work together and you wouldn’t have to worry about delayed shipments.’

There it is. It wasn’t enough that he planned to seduce her, now he wished to control her business, as well?

‘I would rather poison myself than work with you,’ she said.

At that, he grew tense. He lowered his voice, stepping closer. Heat ran through her at his proximity. ‘You really ought to stop with all this poison business,’ he said sternly.

Indignation ran through her. ‘Who are you to tell me to stop?’

‘Why must you argue?’ he asked, which was rich, since he was the one always arguing with her . ‘It’s just not … right,’

How condescending. Perfect Xander with his perfect life. What did he know?

‘I don’t care for what is right or wrong,’ she lied.

‘You should,’ he said, eyebrows furrowing. He looked concerned. ‘Last week a man was so ill he could not swallow anything but water and stale bread for five days. It was a peculiar case.’

Bisma was familiar with the case, of course, because she was the one who’d poisoned him.

The man in mention was a father of four and spent all his wife’s hard-earned money on liquor. His wife had discreetly approached Bisma for a poison that would make liquor repellant to him, and the poison Bisma had concocted was meant to do just that. It wouldn’t have killed him to survive on stale bread and water.

Of course she couldn’t tell Xander that. Her clients trusted her to keep their secrets; their confidentiality was paramount. While Xander may have been able to tell that the drunk was poisoned, the man himself would not be able to. It was why many of her poisons were subtle, for the protection of those soliciting her business.

‘I healed him,’ Xander said. Irritation flared through her, and she glowered. Xander hardly noticed. ‘You need to be careful,’ he warned. ‘I spotted your handiwork; others may as well.’

‘You only noticed because you’re a garden-witch, too,’ she replied. ‘You know your potions.’

‘No,’ he said, his voice softening. Something turned in his expression, the severity giving way to tenderness. ‘I know you.’

A shiver ran down her spine. She felt hot and cold at once as she looked up into his eyes, noticing how large his pupils had become. His eyes were dark, the lids lowered as he gazed down at her.

The breath lodged in her throat as she scanned his face, her heart hammering loudly in her ears. Xander took a step closer, the warmth of his body infiltrating her space. He smelled like herbs and earth and rain, like sinking her hands deep into the dirt, magic sprouting plants in response.

Despite the warning bells ringing in her head, Bisma took a small step forward. He lifted an elegant hand as if to touch her face.

She jolted. No! she scolded herself.

She scowled, taking a big step back.

He looked startled and dropped his hand.

‘Don’t you have somewhere to be?’ she asked, making her tone as nasty as possible. ‘Fellow puppies to play with?’

‘Yes, always.’ He laughed. ‘But none quite as pretty as you, darling Bisma.’

‘I assure you my bite is as bad as my bark,’ she threatened.

‘Now that’s something I’d be keen to experience,’ he said, eyes flashing with heat.

Her pulse raced. She couldn’t look at him; she was afraid she might do something asinine, like blush.

Instead, Bisma looked over his shoulder and saw that the mayor’s office and inn front seemed to be busy with preparations.

Xander turned and followed her gaze. ‘Ah, my Uncle Fred is coming to town for a few months,’ he said. ‘Perhaps you’ve heard of him? He’s a brilliant architect. He has ideas to modernize Old Town.’

‘What an oxymoron.’

Xander smiled. Irritation—with an undercurrent of hopeless despair—ran through her. No matter how rude she was to him—no matter how she tried to keep him away—he was always amiable and good-natured, a silly smile forever plastered on his face.

‘Clever,’ he replied. ‘I am lucky we were never in class together or you’d have taken my spot as first student.’

While before she was merely vexed by him, now she was angry. He was mocking her.

Unwanted Girls were not allowed in the town’s school, and rich boys like Xander went away to bigger cities for proper education at boarding schools.

‘I am surprised to hear you were the first student,’ she replied, this time finding no difficulty in making her voice scathing. ‘But while your charms may have worked on your brainless teachers, they don’t work on me.’

He looked wounded.

Another ploy! Well, she would not be swayed by the injured expression on his sweet face.

‘I didn’t mean—’ he began.

‘I know what you meant,’ she snapped.

‘Bisma—’

‘It’s Unwanted Girl to you,’ she said. None of the other villagers cared to learn their names, and the only reason he did was to trap her. Every time he said her name in that deep voice of his, part of her tugged closer to him, ached for him to say it again.

To hear her name whispered by him, to taste it on his tongue.

A shiver ran through her.

The problem was Bisma knew how lovely the build-up of being ensnared was, the rush of being kissed, of being touched. It was so easy to remember the thrill of it and to forget the pain of the aftermath, the agony of heartbreak.

But she would not forget. She would not repeat the same mistakes.

‘Good day,’ she said, making to leave. She looked to the bakery to call Nori once more, only to realize Nori was no longer there.

Bisma swore under her breath.

Concern covered Xander’s face. He stepped forward. ‘What is it?’ he asked, his voice tender.

‘Nothing!’ she cried. ‘Leave me alone.’

She grabbed an itching power from her cart, flicked open the cap, and blew the powder into the air. Xander jumped back and she hurried back to the bakery to ask Haru.

At the bakery, Bisma heard Nori’s laughter. Relief flowed through her for a second before her heart froze with dread. The laughter was not coming from in front of her but from behind.

From … above ?

Bisma turned, gasping. Nori had climbed one of the trees in the square. She loved jumping off the tall trees of the Enchanted Forest and having a branch reach out to catch her.

Dread gripped her heart.

‘Nori, no!’ Bisma screamed, already running.

In horrifying slow motion, she watched as Nori grinned and jumped from her branch. From that height, the fall would kill her.

Bisma pushed her body, running as fast as she could. Please , her very being cried out. Please let me reach her in time .

She did not.

But Xander did.

He ran toward Nori at the same time she did, but he was closer, and as Nori’s body came careening down to the unforgiving ground with alarming speed, he threw himself forward, catching her at the very last second.

Xander broke her fall with his body, holding onto her.

‘Nori!’ Bisma cried, running to reach them.

Though confused as to why the branch had not caught her as it did in the Enchanted Forest, Nori still laughed, amused. Stupid child!

Xander helped Nori to her feet, his copper hair a mess, his immaculate clothes streaked with dirt. With a pained groan, he stood, cracking his neck.

Bisma grabbed Nori from him, shaking her. ‘Why did you do that?’ she cried, hands digging into Nori’s arms. Her heart was beating so hard she worried it might break through her ribs.

Seeing the worry in Bisma’s expression, the amusement vanished from Nori’s face. Her bottom lip trembled. Then she began to cry.

‘Bis—’ Xander began, face alarmed. She ignored him, focusing on her sister. Nori tried to prise herself free from Bisma’s arms, but Bisma only held on tighter to the little girl.

‘We are only safe in the Forest!’ Bisma hissed, shaking Nori again. ‘Do you understand?’

Nori replied by wailing, her face wet with tears. Villagers gathered round to watch, not even bothering to whisper as they made comments. Bisma did not care; she pressed into Nori’s arms.

‘Tell me you understand!’ Bisma yelled.

‘I-I do,’ Nori cried. ‘I do.’

Bisma released Nori, but the terror in her body did not release her. It was a physical thing, gripping her the way ice covered branches in winter.

If Xander hadn’t caught her …

Bisma could picture the girl’s broken body bloodying the earth below. The sight seared into her mind.

She was Nori’s Baji; Nori was her responsibility. ‘She didn’t mean to,’ Xander said, his voice soft. ‘You need not be so harsh.’

Bisma whirled on him, face wild. Seeing her vicious expression, he pressed his mouth shut. He held his hands up, but the concern in his eyes made her want to claw at him.

His concern was aimed not only at Nori but her too.

She could not bear it a moment longer. Grabbing Nori, Bisma went back to her cart, then back to the Enchanted Forest.

It wasn’t until they were home that she could properly breathe.