Page 4 of Silk Skullduggery (Haven Hollow #40)

Poppy’s Potions was just as cheery and obnoxiously upbeat as its owner.

Somehow, Poppy had taken a space with wooden floors and gorgeous wide windows, and somehow made it look like a unicorn had thrown up in it. Everywhere I looked, there were dozens and dozens of little glass bottles in every color of the rainbow. There were thick, creamy beeswax candles arranged on cutesy little holders, with little calligraphy cards attached to everything with ribbons, explaining what each potion or anointed candle did. And don’t even get me started on the fairy lights… There were enough fairy lights for a rendition of Peter Pan.

I was more of a sleek glass and burnished metal kind of person, but I supposed Poppy’s little store had a kind of cottagey, kitschy charm to it. She certainly was doing good enough business. The tourists loved the idea of buying a ‘magic potion’ on their way to Sweeter Haunts, the Halloween themed candy store just a few feet up the street. The ones in the know got a decent potion, and the mundanes got a neat souvenir that would actually work if they ever tried it.

I had to give credit where it was due, unfortunately. Poppy was an amazing potion maker, better than most witches I’d met, myself included. That was the reason I’d invited her to join the coven when I’d formed it, even though that was unheard of. (Well, and yes, if I had to admit—I also wanted her to join because she was my closest friend). But a human, no matter how good at magic they were, had no place in a witch’s coven. It would have been enough to make my family’s striped socks roll up and down. And also including Maverick? A male warlock? My ancestors would be rolling in their graves like a broom stick in a high-speed lathe.

But that was the point of Circle Scapegrace. Not clinging to old, useless prejudices and outdated rules. The point was bringing the talented together to share our magic, to learn and teach each other, for safety. For family. For the benefit of all involved.

Ugh, I was getting maudlin. I blamed Poppy for that, too.

I’d closed up my shop early that evening, too out of sorts to bother pretending to be nice to people. But Lorcan still had hours to go before he’d be calling it a day. A dentist who was open during late night hours made very good money, especially in a place like Haven Hollow. And to be fair, it wasn’t like Lorcan could switch to mornings even if he wanted to.

The point was that I didn’t want to go home and mope around an empty house, and if I showed up at the coven house, there was a chance I’d get pulled into some situation or another, so I dragged myself across the street to Poppy’s store, and settled in at the counter while she puttered with some potion or other.

One thing Poppy was very good at, was sympathy. Somehow her compassion never managed to slide into pity, and she never made it feel like she was even a little condescending. And condescending was what I’d basically been exposed to all my life, so it had taken me a while to recognize her compassion for what it was—real.

She’d even brewed me a cup of tea, and maybe it was a little Christmassy with the hints of cinnamon and spice, but it was also damned tasty, so I was going to drink all of it, and maybe ask for a second cup. That was certainly one way to drink my sorrows away.

I set the teacup down on the refurnished, antique wood of her front counter with a little click and slumped forward on my elbows. “So, now I have a table full of ruinously expensive rotting silk scraps. It’s utterly worthless, and I still don’t have a dress for this stupid vampire ball that I’m supposed to attend.”

Poppy shook her head, the corners of her lips pulled down, and she put the kettle back on. “I’m sorry, Wanda.”

I nodded, because she wasn’t half as sorry as I was. “I can’t believe on top of all the work I’d already put into it, and not to mention the money Lorcan lost on it, I still have to plan out another dress.” I raked a hand back through my hair, shoving it away from my face. “It was so perfect, Poppy. You should have seen it before it all went to hell.”

I could drive into Portland and scour the fashion district. I could even order something from Paris or Milan, if I really wanted to. But there was no way I was going to find something with that kind of woven-in spell work. And I definitely wouldn’t be able to find anything that had been marinating in said magic for more than a century. Ugh.

Poppy turned down the flame on her Bunsen burner, the pale purple potion bubbling away and filling the air with the scent of lavender and vanilla. She was chewing her lower lip, which was a textbook tell that she had something to say, but didn’t know how it would go over and didn’t want to upset anyone.

I quired an eyebrow at her, my nails drumming a pattern against the wood. “Spit it out, Poppy. You’re giving me indigestion just watching you chew on it.”

A flush climbed over her pale cheeks, and she shook her head. “No, it’s nothing. Nothing helpful, anyway.”

When I just kept pointedly waiting, she sighed.

“I just wish you weren’t going to the ball at all.”

I snorted. “Well, that makes two of us. Unfortunately, it’s not the kind of invitation that I can turn down. At least, not without serious consequences. And not just for me.”

I hated that my basic existence caused problems for Lorcan. Yes, he was the idiot fangs for brains who’d decided to turn a gorgeous stranger at the scene of an accident, trying to save her life. But maybe, if he’d hesitated for just a smidge, he might have noticed that said gorgeous stranger was really a witch, and then maybe he’d have realized that said witch wouldn’t have the fondest feelings about becoming one of the undead.

I couldn’t be too salty about it, though. I was only a hundred and forty-some-odd years old, I certainly wasn’t ready for my next reincarnation by any means.

Still, with the memory of two Blood Wars, and a third looming ever closer on the horizon, we couldn’t pretend that it didn’t make things complicated. And I hated that a wedge had been driven between Lorcan and his adoptive sire. With Rupert gone, and a new top dog in place, playing nice might mean that Lorcan could socialize with his fellow bloodsuckers again, instead of being so cut off.

Poppy sighed, sounding forlorn. “I know. I just can’t stand the idea of you having to waltz into the monster’s den. Literally, even. I mean, how are you going to keep up this pretending to be a vampire thing, when you’re in a room full of people who can smell your pulse?”

And that was a very good question. One that I didn’t have an answer for, especially with my best plan slowly mouldering away in my workroom. The whole thing had me on edge—especially my demanded attendance couched in a polite request. The idea of being in a building full of predators, and not being able to use my magic to keep Lorcan and myself safe without shattering the thin illusion protecting us—well, it sucked. And then some. Suffice to say, it had all given me a restless sleep.

Of course, I’d have eaten my own boots before I’d willingly admit that to anyone, even Poppy.

“Don’t you worry your head about it,” I said with an obnoxious smirk. “There are spells for that.”

She frowned. “There are?”

“Well, no, but I can handle a few bloodsuckers. Besides, Lorcan will be there. If all goes wrong, I’ll dazzle them with my magical might, and we’ll make a daring escape.”

One of my least favorite things about Poppy was that she was actually pretty good with people. That meant she could see right through me when I tried to act callous or arrogant to deflect, and that was frankly rude and annoying. I’d never had to deal with anyone knowing me better than I knew myself before moving to Haven Hollow. I’d been able to bluff my own mother, for spell’s sakes.

But Poppy just gave me that big watery blue-eyed look that told me that she wasn’t buying it, but she was going to let the topic go because that was what I wanted.

Ugh. Insufferable.

Suddenly, tea just wasn’t cutting it for me. I leaned forward, balancing on my toes, and shot Poppy a conspiratorial grin. “Now, there is one thing you could do for me, if you wanted to help?”

It was a leading question, and she fell for it, hook, line, and sinker, just like I knew she would.

“Oh yeah?”

I nodded slowly, trying to look solemn. “I am desperately in need of an evening where I get to let my hair down. Do you think you might be able to arrange the next meeting of the Black Cat Cocktail Club? I need a Hex on the Beach, badly.”

Poppy’s face lit up, and I knew my ploy had worked. It wasn’t actually a lie, I did want a night of socializing where I could have a drink and not have to worry about anything for a while except for what Darla might get into while she was, as she put it, ‘zozzled’. I’d lived through the nineteen twenties, and still sometimes her flapper slang tripped me up.

“Oh, that would be great,” Poppy said, her voice bright and bubbly. “I know Fifi was asking after our next get together. And I’d bet you ten dollars that if we invited her, Taliyah could use a night where she could leave all her responsibilities at the door.”

That was a bet I wouldn’t take. Taliyah might have been raised by a family of law enforcement officers, with her own adopted brother being the late Chief of Police, but she had the added benefit of a mess of supernatural and political problems on top of that. The point was, if anyone ever needed a night off and a drink as much as I did, it was Taliyah.

Of course, I still had to tease Poppy about it. “Ten dollars? Slow down there, moneybags.”

But Poppy was already bent over her cell phone, texting away. I tossed a wary look over at the potion simmering. It seemed fine, but I was a little wary about potions exploding these days. The last one that had—well, Sybil had come into being.

My phone buzzed, and I checked it, only to huff out a surprised laugh. “Did you just text me about it? I’m sitting right here. It was my idea.”

Poppy blinked at me. “It’s a group text. It goes to everyone.”

I scrolled through the group members. “Why is Libby in here? You know she’ll refuse, and then spend four hours composing a speech about the evils of alcohol, and that’s only if she figures out how to reply to a text message.”

“Well, yeah. But it would be rude not to invite her.”

I thunked my head down onto the counter. Because Goddess forbid Poppy ever be rude, and not invite someone to something she knew they wouldn’t want to go to anyway.

“Besides, Libby really likes giving those lectures. I think it makes her day.”

Unbelievable. There just wasn’t any hope left for Poppy. She was too goody good to be saved.

My phone chirped again, and I was almost afraid to check it, just in case the zombie from the nineteen fifties had somehow mastered technology to start sending us selfie videos of her disapproval.

But no, it was Lorcan.

I stood up straight, cheered by the thought that maybe he was letting me know he was getting out of work early.

I’m terribly sorry, Sweetling. I have to cancel tonight. Something has come up that I have to take care of. I will see you later.

While part of me was marveling over the weirdly formal text, the rest of me couldn’t help but wilt a little in disappointment.

It wasn’t like Lorcan to bail on me, especially not so last minute.

Poppy saw my face, and frowned, worried. “Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know.” The text just felt a little off, that was all. And in Haven Hollow, it paid to be careful.

I decided to call him, but the phone only rang twice before he declined it. Shocked, I stared down at the little blinking red icon. Another text followed quickly.

I can’t talk right now. I’ll see you later tonight.

Well, that wasn’t ominous at all.

What if something had happened? What if he was being kidnapped and this was his attempt to let me know? What if this was some secret code I needed to figure out?

Did that seem like leaping to conclusions? Maybe, a little, but it had been a wild couple of years in Haven Hollow. I honestly couldn’t discount anything, no matter how insane it might be. I forced myself to take a breath. Lorcan was a big, grown-up vampire. He’d been looking after himself for centuries before I was even born. I had to trust that if he needed me, he would just say so, and if he didn’t say so, then he would handle it—whatever it was.

In short terms, I explained to Poppy what was going on. She reached out to lay a gentle hand on my shoulder. I liked that she didn’t tell me not to worry, but then, Poppy had lived through the past few wild years, too. So she knew not worrying in Haven Hollow wasn’t the thing to do.

“Maybe there was some kind of…” she searched for the right words, biting her lower lip. “Tooth emergency?”

Her choice of words yanked me out of my anxiety spiral. “A tooth emergency?” She nodded. “What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know—like—”

“Like, some visiting noble needs a gold filling? Or there’s a tooth bomb that needs to be disarmed?”

Poppy started giggling, and I was right on her heels as we came up with wilder and wilder ideas for tooth related disasters. When we finally reached ‘a tooth tsunami coming out of the Pacific Ocean’, neither of us could breathe and we’d sagged against the counter to laugh helplessly.

Oh, spells, I’d needed that. By the time I was headed for home, I was barely concerned at all.