Page 71 of Secret Pucking Unicorn

“Are you saying my mother was poisoning me?” I ask in disbelief. I don’t know why I’m shocked, it would be completely on brand for her.

Bedard shakes his head. “No, not poison. Well, not yet. Teagan told us what was going on. Maybe that was next.”

Us? I look over to see Declan standing in the doorway, looking unsure of his welcome. Nora tells him to come in. He leans against the wall while Bedard explains.

“I’m a chemist and my mother is a kitchen witch. I know about herbs and chemicals. When I smelled your tea today, it niggled at me. That’s why I asked for the tea bags. I wanted to examine them.” He’s standing tall and lecturing like he must have back in his classroom in Canada.

“I examined the leaves and herbs in the blend and consulted with my mom over FaceTime. She could see them and one of the herbs used is on a restricted list because when brewed and ingested it makes the drinker vulnerable to suggestion. It takes away their ability to exercise their free will. A witch can cast a spell making the victim vulnerable to them, they won’t be influenced by anyone else. It’s like supernatural branding.”

I think about how many cups of cursed tea I’ve had in the past day, hell, in my life, and my stomach lurches. Leaping to my feet, I rush to the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. I retch and try to purge every drop from my system.

Through the door I hear Sophie. “Wait, I drank the tea too.”

“You did?” Nora asks, aghast.

“I have for years,” Sophie replies, “whenever I visited Doreen. She sends me care packages with it in it. I got some for Christmas. Was I under its effects too?”

“Probably,” Bedard says.

There’s more chatter I tune out as I flush the toilet. At the sink, I swish water and spit it out to remove any traces of the tea. I think back to the times Declan lovingly made me tea and what a gift it was and how those beautiful memories are tainted now because she weaponized tea. It’s ridiculous, tea as a weapon. It’s like an episode of Midsomer Murders, but less believable.

I leave the bathroom and take the bottle of water Trevor is holding out for me. “Thanks.” I look at Bedard. “How long do the effects last? When will I be free of its influence?”

“About seventy-two hours.”

I look at Declan, who hasn’t said a word. I know lies about him were planted in my head and while logically there is no reason to doubt him or his love for me, I still do. I need to let this evil brew leave my system before making any decisions about my future. He nods his head once in what I take to be understanding, straightens, and leaves the suite. The longing to chase after him is strong, but I resist. Anything we say or decide needs to be done with a clear head. I don’t want there to be any doubt.

“Kendall says you are welcome to stay in her guest room,” Bedard says.

I nod. “I think it’s for the best.”

I throw my things in my bag. I’m a nomad again. Someday I will have a home. I hope it is with Declan.

26

DECLAN

I want to get drunk and stay drunk for at least the next three weeks until my hand heals, and I can be on the ice. Maybe longer if Miranda no longer loves me. I don’t know if I can stay here if I’m not with Miranda. I could survive being here when she was across the ocean and I didn’t know what it was like to hold her, love her, share whispers in the dark. There is no way I can go back to how we were before. If we aren’t together, I need to be traded or go back home and do something else with my life. Alone.

She was being drugged by her mother. It’s like something out of one of the murder mystery shows we watch together. I guess I should be relieved it’s tea and Doreen didn’t go full-on poison apple like the evil witch she truly is.

As I enter my parents’ suite next door, Dad hands me a glass of whisky.

“What are you doing here?” he asks. “Why aren’t you with Miranda?”

“Miranda has been begging me to give her space. I am. Until that blasted tea is out of her system and she’s clearheaded, I don’t want to put pressure on her. She knows how I feel. That hasn’t changed and it will never change. Our future is in her hands. So is my heart.”

“Ach,” Dad says. “That’s the Irish part of you. Tap into your Scot, throw her over your shoulder, and carry her away.”

“I think kidnapping is frowned upon, Dad. It will be hard to get married if I’m in prison.”

“It worked out for your ma and I,” Dad says with a wink while Ma blushes. It’s amazing they stopped at six kids. “The kidnapping. Never been to prison.”

“Married?” Ma asks eagerly. “You’re talking about marriage?”

“Aye. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Even when Sophie was doing those fake ceremonies when we were kids, I wanted them to be real. I love Miranda, she is it for me.”

“What fake ceremonies?” Ma asks, a funny look crossing her face.

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