Page 52 of Potions and Proposals
“Okay, I’ll admit this was my bad.” Peter picked up a shard of the shattered mirror. As they caught their breath, Benedict eyed all the possessed and cursed objects lining the walls and knew they couldn’t leave such items to be discovered. He picked up one of the black candles and tossed it against the potion-lined wall. The wall caught fire in a second, projecting a blue flame towards them.
Peter grinned. “You can take the fire out of the man, but you can’t keep the man away from fire.”
Benedict kicked open the front door. As soon as they stepped outside, the hovel collapsed in on itself without the crone’s magic to keep it standing.
“We could’ve been killed!” Benedict ran his hand through his hair as dust and earth settled around them.
“Technically, I’m already dead,” Peter reminded him, and Benedict shoved him.
The horrifying smell of the burning, rotting hovel made them grimace. Benedict guessed that by nightfall, all trace of the crone and her sordid deeds would be gone.
“Are you going to tell Lucy about this?” Peter asked, watching the flames.
“Are you kidding? She’d kill me for doing this behind her back.”
“Best not, then. Not great to have two women try to kill you in twenty-four hours,” Peter advised.
Back at the car, Benedict reached for the door handle when a fierce crack alerted them both to a falling tree. They leapt out ofthe way just in time. The car windows shattered. Peter winced, his head popping up on the other side of the crushed vehicle.
“I love you, but in the future, help me less,” Benedict groaned, lying amongst the leaves. He stared wide eyes at the decaying trunk of the fallen tree.
“I can do that.” Peter chuckled, helping him to his feet.
Together, they watched as the other trees, rotten with blackened bark, fell in a perfect circle.
“The crone must have enchanted the trees around the perimeter of her hovel to collapse in case she died,” Peter said sheepishly.
Benedict shook his head. “It’s going to take us hours to walk back to Foxford. Can’t you teleport us home?”
“No can do. My movements are tracked. If I used my magic too close to the hovel, I’d get an earful from the higher-ups,” Peter said, slipping his hands into his black coat. “Can’t you try?”
“No – I used too much magic in there. I don’t have the energy to make the journey safely.” Resigned, Benedict began the long walk to the main road.
To their relief, when they got there, headlights appeared in the distance.
“Looks like fate is on our side!” Peter beamed, waving, and thankfully the truck began to slow. The sun was already starting to set, and Benedict didn’t fancy being out here all night.
Much to his surprise, Faye Parker rolled down the window. He clenched his jaw, wondering what else could go wrong today. Of all the people to show up, of course it had to be one of Lucy’s friends from school.
“Benedict?” she asked, looking like she’d seen a ghost. Then again, hewasstanding on the side of the road covered in mud and blood, hitchhiking with his dead brother.
“Long story. What are you doing out here?”
“I was picking up some ingredients for the bakery from Willow Valley,” she said, pointing to the back of the truck. It was loaded with bags of flour and a large box with an industrial mixer.
“Any chance we can get a ride?” Peter asked, already opening the back door.
“Aren’t you…?” Faye swallowed, looking at his long black coat.
“Dead? Yes, I thought that was old news by now.” Peter enjoyed people’s discomfort.
Faye paled, mouth agape as though she didn’t know what to say. Most of the town knew Peter was a Grim, but a soul collector was bound to make anyone nervous. It wasn’t every day people came face to face with mortality in the flesh.
“Ignore him,” Benedict told her, wondering why Peter was looking at her all moony-eyed. He wasn’t aware they’d even known each other. He guessed it had less to do with who she was and more how pretty she was. With her cropped auburn hair, dark green eyes and full rose lips, you’d have to be a fool not to acknowledge her beauty – but it was her sad eyes that caused people to keep their distance.
“Get in,” she said, leaning across to open the passenger door. Before Benedict could obey, Peter hopped into the front seat. Faye backed up against her door as death got a little too close.
“I love Taylor Swift! This is my song!” Peter turned up the old CD stereo. Faye stifled a laugh, clearly never having seen a Grim dance to the queen of pop. Benedict didn’t know her well, but it was the first time he’d seen her smile.
