Page 45 of Spellbound After Midnight

“One of my potions calls for belladonna root. It’s impossible to find, but if anyone knows where I can get it, it’s you.”

Charlie smirked at my appeal to his vanity. “That’s a slightly more dangerous aphrodisiac. Too much, and you wind up dead.”

I winked. “Then let’s hope I get the dose right. Where can we get some?”

“This time of year, I’d say nowhere. But as it happens, I’ve heard of someone who deals. The name will cost you, and it’s all I got. More phantom than anything else. Tracking it down will be up to you.”

Derrick withdrew a sum of money and placed it on the counter. Charlie made a quick count, then flashed his teeth.

“That’s it? I don’t take less than fifty.”

I coughed, face flaming.

“Oh, really? That sounds familiar.” Derrick narrowed his eyes. “Take it or leave it.”

“Derrick,” I hissed. Now wasn’t the time to see who had the bigger…negotiating skills.

His arm tightened around me as the ultimatum hung in the charged silence. Charlie rolled his tongue over his teeth, then snorted.

“Fine.” He pocketed the coins. “You’re looking for Ironhazel. That’s all I know.”

The name wasn’t familiar. “Thanks, Charlie.”

“Anytime, my love.” He nudged the vial of blue liquid toward me while Derrick wrote the name in his notebook. “My gift to you.”

Discreetly, I snapped up the vial.Never turn away free potions.It was a witch’s creed, also good business sense. We moved away from Charlie’s stall.

“Was that necessary?”

Derrick shrugged. “It felt good.”

“Well, as long as it felt good.” Fisting my hands on my hips, I asked, “Where to next? Want to see a dragon’s egg encased in amber? They’re that way.” I pointed deeper into the market.

“Dragons aren’t real. It’s probably a painted goose egg they placed in amber so you can’t tell the difference.”

“Aren’t you a killjoy. Even if it’s fake, it’s still interesting.”

“We shouldn’t hang around this place longer than needed. It’s asking for trouble. We got what we came for. Actually, we got more than we came for. Hand it over.”

“Hand what over?” I danced out of his reach as he tried to capture my gloved fist.

“Tessa, I’m warning you.” He sidestepped a vendor juggling illuminated marbles and stalked closer.

“But it was a gift! Like the gloves. You can’t take away gifts, it’s rude.”

“Rude? So is lying about how many times you’ve come here. One time, huh?” He feinted left and went right. I fell for it and stumbled into him, holding my hand in the air as if it didn’t make my fist level with his forehead. Lowering in defeat, I unfurled my fingers. The blue vial rested in my palm.

“Fine, take it.” Some of my surliness slipped through, and I snapped, “A coldhearted detective like yourself needs it more than I do, anyway.”

“Coldhearted?” His features hardened. He snatched the vial and backed us up until my shoulders bumped a wooden post, caging me in with his body. “Is that what you think?”

Um…no. There was nothing cold about the look in his eyes; it left a trail of heat across my skin. I squared my shoulders, trapped between him and the post, and tried to regain the upper hand.

“What was that back there? You shouldn’t have pretended we were together in front of Charlie. It wasn’t fair.”

“Do witches play fair?”

“No, but we’re witches. It comes with the name. You’re a detective.” My fingers curled in the lapels of his tweed jacket, tugging him closer. “You’re honorable, reserved.” He went motionless beneath my hands, and I pressed myself closer still, molding against him. “A man of virtue.” His breath grew harsh as we stared each other down, and I stood on my toes to whisper in his ear, “Don’t stoop to my level, Detective.”