Page 2 of Potion of Deception (Potion of Deception #1)

NEVER MAKE A BARGAIN WITH A STRANGER

T he rough sound of foreign footsteps made the air heavy.

A tall stranger in a long cloak stepped over the threshold of the shop, the bell over him swaying.

Everything around him seemed to shrink from his presence and the room became strangely stuffy.

Something viscous loomed in the atmosphere like an invisible warning that this guest wasn't sent here by the good forces.

“Sorry, we're already closed,” Violette said, as she finished counting the day's revenue.

Her head rose.

The hooded stranger silently crossed the room in two steps, his gaze – serious and clear, as resolute as if a hawk had spotted its prey. Violette perceived this as a challenge.

Even with his nose and mouth hidden behind a black silk scarf, she could still discern his strange, inhuman beauty.

His thick, perfectly arched dark brows framed his eyes, and his silky raven hair fell in a single strand between them as he hunched over the counter.

His eyes were incredibly expressive, only…

dark as a night whose stars were stolen or extinguished by someone very cruel and inscrutable.

She held his gaze, and a strange thread of memory sparkled in her mind, a fleeting déjà vu she couldn’t explain.

“I said we are closed,” Violette repeated persistently, however goosebumps crawled across her skin.

It was not the man himself that frightened her, but his eyes, devoid of any humanity.

She placed a sign, ' CLOSED', right in front of him and her other hand slid to her belt, fingers ready to grab her magic wand if anything happened.

“I'm not here for a potion.” His voice sounded arrogant, containing a note of amusement. His fingers twirled a bottle of pink liquid by the cash register as he leaned on the counter with his forearms.

Violette's eyes darted to the vial and just as quickly returned to the stranger. There was something evil in this innocent movement.

Something about this man was already familiar to her; maybe she knew him? Then this memory slipped out of her head and disappeared into the dark alleys… a lleys . This prompted her onto something, but the stranger's voice scared away the thought too quickly.

“I have an offer. This room is filled with regret and despair,” he let out calmly, his eyes dropped to the bottle between his fingers and then back to her.

“I don't understand what you're talking about,” Violette uttered roughly, her tone meant to convey to the guest that she wasn't in the best mood and wouldn’t try to hide behind politeness. Maybe he was just crazy?

His eyes locked with hers. There was probably more fear than confidence in her gaze, and he could sense it. With a slight movement, he took off his hood, apparently thinking it would gain him more trust. Wrong .

“Relax, witch. It's in your interests,” he declared, and his voice no longer sounded as mysterious as it had seconds ago, as if all the charm and all his mysticism had dissipated with it.

“You need help, don't you? I can give you the medicine you're looking for. In return, I ask for a simple favor.”

His head cocked to the side, a spark of mischievousness showed in his eyes.

Medicine. What is he talking about?

“Who are you? And what do you need from me?” Violette balked.

“Let's say I'm a well-wisher. I need help and I know you need it too. I can give you what you want in exchange for your witch services. A mutually beneficial offer if you wish.”

“I don't know you.” Her face sent forth mistrust, an anger creeping into her veins.

Her expression didn't bother the stranger. “Me neither. And I don't have any desire to get to know you. All you need is a cure for your father, right? And I need your help with a magic spell,” he waved, sounding so carefree. Like they were friends having a very casual conversation.

Violette backed away.

“How do you know about my father? How do you even– Listen, this is not funny.

We are closed. It's time for you to leave,” she demanded, this time angry and irritable.

She wasn't going to listen to some stranger's jokes and banters.

She wanted to help her father and she wasn't in the mood for such ridicule.

If it was a trick – it wasn't funny at all.

The stranger withdrew a scroll and tossed it across the counter.

She caught it reflexively; perhaps it was a mistake to open it.

Maybe she should have thrown it back at him or not touched it at all, but…

she unwrapped it. Curiosity was Violette's enemy and sometimes she chided herself for it, but there was so much unknown and incomprehensible in the world, and if she hadn't been curious, it would have remained that way for her.

She didn't like secrets, or mysteries, or rather…

there was something magical and beautiful in them, and she loved them as long as she knew what they were about.

She lived in a big city, where thousands of wizards and other people lived, and each had their own secrets.

Every day she sees new customers and some of them seemed incredibly ordinary, but the city's gossip still slipped between the counters directly to her.

She didn't talk about what she heard or saw, but it was so interesting to be the keeper of other people's secrets and know what was happening. She was stuck in this shop among potions and dusty recipes hidden from the world, and yet her curiosity wasn’t blocked by the teal door.

Just because she was left out of adventures didn't mean that they weren't attracting her.

Maybe someday she would be able to go to new lands and find out at least half of the secrets that life has in store for her, but for now, it was just a small dream.

How could she leave her father; especially now?

Besides, there were too many inexplicable things and mysteries around that she would like to solve, and she knew as soon as she came across one of them, she would lose herself in it.

Violette knew that if she had the opportunity to do some world exploring, her curiosity would most likely be her undoing, as her heart always screamed louder than her mind.

And yet it didn't frighten her, at least here, in these walls smelling of violets, iris, herbs and thousand-year-old hopes – she was safe from her own impulsivity.

This stranger however, smelled of bad decisions and regrets.

It took her almost half a minute to drop her eyes to the scroll.

It was filled with strange symbols but as soon as she looked at them, they started turning into words, emitting a weak pink glow.

She couldn't believe her eyes. What was written on the scroll amazed her.

Was he telling the truth? The cure she needed so badly existed and the recipe for it was in her hands?

She put the parchment on the table.

“How do I know this isn't a trick?” Her brows raised, and her gaze turned pretentious.

“You won't know until you try,” the stranger said and the corners of his eyes rose.

“Who are you? What is your name?” The incredulousness slipped from her lips.

The magic of the scroll was still pleasantly tingling her fingers.

In fact, she had no doubt that it was genuine and this potion was exactly what she was looking for.

There was a lot of magic in the world, and this was one that you just had to look at to understand it is capable of working miracles.

She was a wizardling , she couldn't confuse this.

However, it didn't mean that she would throw herself at the feet of the stranger.

“Dante,” he said carelessly.

She squinted. “And how did you find me?”

“I? I didn't find anyone,” his voice stayed indifferent. “You yourself appeared in front of me.”

“I don't quite under–”

That's it . A strange feeling, as if she had met this man before, these eyes were familiar to her.

It was him . In the dark alley the other day.

She hurried to leave and not bring trouble on herself, but apparently she didn't succeed…

in fact, Violette would consider herself terribly unlucky, because the chain of events that led her to being late in the shop that day and meeting this man was startling.

And now he found her and came to her shop. And he somehow knew about her father.

“You followed me!” She recoiled. “How did you even know about my father?!”

“Too many questions. When you need something, you can find anyone and anything,” he casually stated.

“Do you know that's called harassment? You are insane!”

“Call it that if you wish, but it's not quite true. I used publicly available information.” His voice remained as calm as a water on the windless day.

“That literally doesn't change the situation.”

“Who cares? Life is unpredictable and it's what makes it more interesting.

If not me then others will come to you and offer you something, at the best it will be a 'wonderful miracle working' perfume for such a ridiculous price,” he mocked.

“My offer is better, don't you think so? You want to know who I am and why you should trust me, but how do you know if you do not try?”

“Why me?” Her brows pulled together, not breaking eye contact.

“I told you, the walls of this store are saturated with despair and broken hopes, and you are the one who brought it here.” He swirled the bottle with a pink liquid once again before it rolled over the table and almost fell off the other side, but Violette stopped it with her fingers.

“I'm not desperate,” she earnestly let out and moved the bottle back to its place.

“Oh, really?” He pushed a book on the table and it fell to her side of the floor.

“Hey! What the Hell?” Violette scowled irritably and bent down to pick it up.

Dante leaned over the counter and snatched a notebook with a purple cover from the bottom shelf.