Page 10 of Curses & Cold Brew (Maple Hollow #2)

IRIS

R amona wrinkled her nose as we walked through the door of the crystal shop. “Why does it look like an acid trip in here?”

“It’s not that bad,” I murmured under my breath. I turned to take in the place, expression deflating. “Okay, maybe it’s a little on the psychedelic side.”

“A little? How do you know what an acid trip is like?”

I suddenly realized that I was several steps ahead of her because she’d paused just under the wind chimes at the entrance. Looking completely out of place amongst the glittering stones, smoke from the incense, and colorful tapestries hanging from the ceiling, Ramona grimaced at the interior.

Gripping her upper arm, I pulled her to me and escorted her to the front desk. “Tighten up your millennial grey trousers and get your head in the game, demon.”

“These are slate grey and cost more than all these dusty rocks,” she countered but permitted me to drag her along, nevertheless.

The shop was narrow and deep, aglow with salt lamps and astral projection lights that made the ceiling a swirling galaxy of purple and gold.

Rows upon rows of baskets lined the walls, and a central table displayed different necklaces and rings along with delicately carved figurines in everything from agate to lapis lazuli.

“Be with you in one sec!” a soft, feminine voice called from deep within the shop.

We perused the piles of crystals while working our way toward the source of commotion.

The building was enchanted to be larger on the inside, like a pocket between veils.

It felt as if we’d been walking for several minutes before we stumbled upon Citrine, who was packaging up a bundle of beaded bracelets for a family in matching North Face fleeces.

A small child clung to their mother’s leg and peered up at me, then homed in on Ramona, who gave the kid an empty-eyed half smile.

A split second of fear strained their little face, but then they beamed up at her.

I’d seen this effect before. When children came into contact with Ramona, they recognized that they weren’t in danger.

Adults, on the other hand . . . Well, let’s just say the smart ones knew to fear her.

The kid’s father turned and smiled at me. But then he spotted Ramona. “Oh, excuse us.” He quickly nudged his wife and child out of our way as fast as he could.

Ramona raised her chin as they passed, assessing.

I wondered if this was how she found her targets. Did this man have debts too deep to claw his way out of without some help from hell?

I didn’t need my tarot deck for a scenario to appear before me: the man losing his job in the big city and taking his family on one last vacation before uprooting their lives for another job on the West Coast. It was part intuition, part taking in his finance-bro-chic attire.

The family skittered away before I could read any more into it.

“ That is the witch?” Ramona asked in a low voice, bringing my attention back to Citrine, who was toying with some obsidian. “She doesn’t look like she could bend the forces of nature, let alone my sigil.”

I peeked up at Citrine. She had mousy, shoulder-length brown hair, wire-rim glasses that were too big for her heart-shaped face, and brown doe eyes.

She wore flowing linen clothes in burnt orange and looked like a walking jewelry display with so many necklaces, bracelets, and rings that they must add another twenty pounds to her tiny frame.

A gold nose ring and stacked gold hoop earrings completed her artsy, hippie style.

“How well do you know this witch?” Ramona murmured. “She doesn’t look like she can keep a secret.”

I liked the way she implied that I was worthy of keeping her secrets, but I wasn’t about to comment on that. “She was a few years older than me at school,” I replied quietly. “And she was my camp counselor one year, but that’s probably the closest we ever were. So I know a little bit about her.”

Ramona guffawed, drawing the attention of a mustachioed patron perusing the labradorite. She gave the man a death glare, and he quickly butted back out of our conversation. I repressed a snicker at his terror but was starting to enjoy Ramona’s effect on mortals.

“I forgot about your little witchy summer camp,” Ramona said with a smirk that lit me on fire. I knew she hadn’t forgotten about it. Not after the kiss we’d shared beneath the midnight trees. “So you two bonded over acoustic singing and s’mores?”

I shrugged. “She’s mostly a friendly acquaintance, but she’s a good person. We can trust her. I have a feeling she’d tell us whatever she knows.”

“I bet I have better ways to make the little mouse squeak.”

That shouldn’t have been hot, but it absolutely was.

“Listen, be careful,” I warned. “Citrine is a powerful witch, even more powerful than me.” Ramona shot me a look. “I am powerful!” I stomped my foot indignantly, which only made her smile widen.

“Sure you are, cupcake.”

“I’m serious,” I whisper-hissed. “I feel bad for her, honestly. She nearly killed her last boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend? She’s a witch who works in a crystal shop and she’s straight?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but she’s pansexual.”

“Interesting.” Ramona shot me a look. “How did she almost kill him?”

“I don’t know all the salacious details, but the coven elders said her magic nearly consumed him when they were in bed together.”

Ramona let out a low whistle. “Talk about a magic pussy.”

My cheeks heated. “It’s the amount of her power that’s the problem, not magical sex organs,” I muttered. “It’s a terrible curse to be that powerful.” I was pushing the issue more than it needed to be. “She can never let someone in, never have a partner.”

“Maybe she just needs more than one,” Ramona offered, her lips curling with mischief as she drank Citrine in. “I’m sure the right quartet of lovers would do her some good.”

“What does that even mean?” I hissed. “Are you . . . into her?”

Ramona’s quicksilver eyes snapped to mine as if magnetized. “Would it bother you if I was?”

“No,” I said too quickly, choking on the insinuation. “It doesn’t matter to me whose bed you slither into.”

“Liar,” she purred. She reached out and touched a strand of my hair before brushing a finger across my cheek. “Malice looks good on you, little witchling. Jealousy’s the color of your eyes.”

When said eyes dropped to my lips, I only had one thought: I am so fucked.

She pulled her hand away, leaving the ghost of her touch on my skin. I took a step back, hoping the regained ground would strengthen my trembling legs.

Thankfully, the moment was saved by Citrine calling out, “Hey, Iris!” Then adding with less enthusiasm, “Ramona. What can I do for you?”

Ramona seemed perplexed that Citrine knew her name, and the feigned humility made me roll my eyes.

Ramona and Naphula were the local demons.

Everyone knew who they were. Whether the two hellions thought they were more inconspicuous than they actually were or if they just expected everyone to go along with their charade, I didn’t know.

“Is this a crystal dildo?” Ramona pointed to an alarmingly phallic-shaped Dalmatian Jasper.

Citrine gripped the base of the largest . . . pumpkin?

The piece had five carved pumpkins stacked on top of one another ending with a smooth nub at the very tip.

“Here at Stars and Stones, we encourage all aspects of self-discovery through certain healing crystals. The ones marked with a heart sticker are safe for internal use. This one invokes joy, loyalty, and play. It’s one of our most popular items.”

“Uh, right.” Ramona took another long look at the crystal item as Citrine set it back down.

“So, um, yeah,” I said, taking the lead in the conversation we were here to have. “I’ve been doing some research lately and?—”

“My fellow spell nerd,” Citrine said with a smile. “You’ve always been so clever.”

Ramona stepped possessively into me at the fondness in Citrine’s voice. The butterflies in my stomach danced anew at the subtle movement.

“I wish I could work spell magic as skillfully as you do,” I replied, placing an affectionate hand on her arm.

Ramona stiffened next to me.

Okay, maybe I was making her squirm as a small act of revenge, but she deserved a taste of her own medicine. Sue me!

“Actually,” I continued, “I’m looking into curses that require crystals and herbs, specifically angelica root, iron, and black tourmaline.”

Citrine pursed her lips. “Those aren’t unusual ingredients for protection.” She stared at the ceiling contemplatively. “More common in run-of-the-mill spells than actual curses. But protection spells could be used to cloak a curse, I suppose. If the magic wielder were being extra careful.”

It looked as if Citrine were trying to work out a riddle. I could tell she was flipping through the stacks of information she’d locked away in her big brain.

“Anything powerful enough to break a demon’s sigil?” I added.

Her brows pinched together as she looked from me to Ramona.

Very subtle, Iris!

“I thought only demons could break sigils.” Citrine drummed her fingers across her lips. “And some other hell beasts. Vampires, maybe?”

“You’re sure a witch wouldn’t be powerful enough to conjure such a thing?” Ramona asked. Her hip grazed mine, reminding me how close to me she stood.

“Well, I didn’t say that. With the right tools,” Citrine said with a shrug. “And the right magical conduits.”

“Like what?” Ramona growled, and I kicked her with my boot.

“I’m not sure. It depends on who they are and what access they have to the forces of nature or the supernatural,” Citrine mused. “Sorry I can’t be more helpful. Have you tried meditating and asking the goddess?”

“The goddess?” Ramona guffawed. “I’m still not talking to that?—”

My elbow in Ramona’s ribs stopped her from finishing that sentence. “That’s okay,” I amended. “It was worth a shot.”

“You might try Dean at Midnight Market,” Citrine suggested. “Have you met him yet? He’s Billy Bacchus’s nephew, new in town. Six foot seven, bright green. Buff. Hard to miss.”

“Keep it in your pants, Citrine,” Ramona muttered under her breath.

“Hmm?”

“Why should we go ask the new guy in town?” I interjected, once again saving Ramona from an underhanded comment.

Citrine shrugged. “Lots of demons in the town he moved here from. Apparently, he was a docent for the demonic council there. So maybe they had to deal with something like that in the past?”

“New in town. Interesting,” Ramona said tightly, turning to leave before I could ask anything more.

“Oh, um, I should follow her.” I hooked a thumb behind me and chased after Ramona.

“See you at the next coven meeting!” Citrine called after us.

Outside the shop, I caught up to Ramona quicker than I expected.

“Are you going to find this Dean guy?” I asked.

“I have no interest in tall green boys, no matter how buff,” she snarked. “No, it’s the demonic council I need to go talk to. I need to know if there’s any new demons gracing Maple Hollow with a visit.”

“Okay, well, where is the?—”

“You can’t come with me on this one, red.”

“But we agreed I could help.”

“The demonic council would eat you up, spit you out, and laugh at your masticated corpse.”

I crossed my arms. “Well, that was a gross and entirely unnecessary description.”

“Don’t you have a day job? What about the apothecary?”

“Jordyn can handle the shop for a bit longer,” I said with a wave. “Please?”

“Don’t think that pouting will work on me.

” Ramona’s eyes narrowed. “The only thing those pouty lips will get you is a trip to my playroom to meet my favorite flogger.” I nearly stumbled, choking on my own air, as Ramona continued, “And while I appreciate that your first instinct is to beg for my attention, right now isn’t a good time, witchling. ”

I reared back, heat filling my veins. “I . . . uh . . .”

Ramona laughed. “You look about ready to burst into flames.”

She started to walk away again.

For some reason, I desperately didn’t want that to happen, so I pulled out the last card I held: “But what about our date?”

Ramona’s slim frame whirled on me so fast I couldn’t react. She pinned me against the brick wall, her arms caging me in so all I could see was the wicked smile on her red lips.

“Tempting me with your desperation?” she purred.

I trembled at the way her eyes snagged on my mouth. I knew being with her would be so, so good, but a thrill of fear ran along with my certainty. Most of the women in this town I could handle with my eyes closed, but Ramona? I might be out of my depth with Ramona.

“Name the place and time, witchling.”

“Now,” I rasped, wanting so badly to breach the distance between our mouths. “I want to go with you to the demonic council for our date.” I had meant for it to be a “Gotcha!” moment, but I was too flushed and turned on to pull it off.

“That’s not a date, love, and you know it,” she whispered, her breath hot on my lips as she leaned in. “A proper date with me will end with you panting and begging for more.”

“You’re making a lot of assumptions for someone who had to coerce me into a date in the first place.”

“You didn’t take that much convincing. We both know what you were secretly craving.”

“A date doesn’t have to end in sex,” I added breathlessly even as I thought about all the ways she and I could intertwine, all the ways she could make me fall apart for her . . .

“No, but why deny the inevitable?” She leaned closer, and I resisted the urge to move before she pulled away. “Go have a long, cold shower, little witch. I’ve got work to do.”

My body felt her absence before my other senses could catch up. She was halfway down the street before I could regain my footing. Lust and fire filled my veins. But instead of turning toward my apothecary and an ice-cold shower, I raced down another alleyway.

She wouldn’t get away from me that easily.