Page 2 of Curses & Cold Brew
Who would make such a bizarre concoction? My thoughts immediately flew to a certain someone, her image conjured unwillingly behind my eyelids.
If there were anyone who would have insight into the perpetrator, it would be a certain apothecary witch with fiery red hair and an attitude I loved to ignite like a spark to a mound of dry kindling. A little thrill ran through me. It had been months since I’d spoken to Iris, only catching glimpses of her in the town square or through the café window. It had delighted me that she’d been brash enough to ask for an extension on our deal—and even more that we’d sealed that addendum with a scorching kiss over the summer. My lips curled into a sharp smile even through the frustration. I had that witch on my hook, and now all I had to do was reel her in.
I picked up the bowl with my free hand, snarling as powdered sugar tipped from the donut box and onto the satin vest of my custom suit that had cost more than most people’s houses.
I gave one last cursory glance over the squalid room. “This isn’t over. I’ve never lost a soul to anyone, and I don’t intend foryouto be the first.” I bid Saul’s corpse a disgruntled farewell as a devious smile stretched my lips. “Time to go find my little witchling.”
2
IRIS
Idrummed my fingers on the gnarled wood of the apothecary desk. Once again, here I sat, bored out of my mind. I’d already bottled the most recent batch of sleep elixirs, dusted dozens of shelves—without using levitation, might I add—andstarted teaching myself an ancient summoning incantation from one of the oldest spell books that Bones and Tomes had in its archives, because all of that was better than just staring into space.
If I didn’t get a reprieve soon, I might start hand-sewing bowties for Ichabod. The black cat cracked one eye open from where he slept on the floor in a circle of early autumn sunlight as if to say,Don’t you dare.
Never had I longed for the busy season like I did now. A few tourists had filtered in to take some photos or videos for social media, but the weeks leading up to Halloween were typically slow. With the recent uptick in lifestyle influencers, we’d had our fair share of bloggers, travel enthusiasts, and nostalgia-seeking city dwellers visiting lately. The kicker was that even with the somewhat steady stream of visitors, there hadn’t been much more business. I knew it would pick up as we moved closer toHalloween, but I needed something to pull me out of this funknow.
“I could really go for some townsfolk catching a rare and mysterious stomach bug or poisoning from a bad batch of hard apple cider right about now,” I mused to a half-listening Ichabod. “Or better yet, a salacious scandal where several people contract some sort of supernatural STI. That’s the ticket. Drama and a brain puzzle all in one. Perfect.”
When the midnight cat didn’t even deign to peek at me, I sighed heavily. Everyone in Maple Hollow was far too healthy and vanilla for the coven’s apothecary business these days.
With a grumble, I stared out the fogged windows and watched the leaves dance around the witch-hat gazebo at the center of town. Most of them had already changed, but some still held fast to the last bits of summer, the greens fading to vibrant yellows and oranges with burgundy and browns peeking through. A foliage hunter’s dream.
Soon, our little town would be overrun. Normally, I was the poster child for the Halloween spirit, but thoughts of the Halloween Festival only brought the smallest flare of excitement . . . probably because I didn’t have my best friend to enjoy it with anymore.
As if summoned by my thoughts, Jordyn stumbled through the front door, making the bells clang uproariously before she closed it behind her. She looked both shocked and frazzled by the sound, as if we didn’t both have regular nightmares about phantom chiming bells after busy days.
“Sorry, sorry!” she called as she smoothed her tousled brown hair.
I eyed her swollen lips, askew cardigan, and one button of her blouse in the wrong hole. “You couldn’t keep it in your pants until the end of the workday?” I snarked, flipping through the spell book for something that would quell the libido . . . but Iknew those only worked on men. There was no spell big enough to keep two hot women from banging, praise all the sapphic gods. “I know you and Harlow are sickeningly and irrevocably in love, but you’d think after a year, you would cool it a little bit.”
“We got carried away.” A deep red blush crept across Jordyn’s nose and cheeks. She couldn’t seem to wipe the shit-eating grin off her face, though. “What needs doing?”
Me, obviously, but there was a fat chance of that happening anytime soon.
“Nothing,” I groused. “But stay over there and tidy the dry herbs or something. I don’t need your post-carnal aroma and afterglow to dampen my already chipper mood.”
Jordyn lifted the neckline of her sweater, sniffed it, then shrugged. “Slow day?”
“You could say that.” I twirled a pencil between my fingers—a new trick I’d been perfecting lately. The movement attracted the true owner of the apothecary, Ichabod. His black paw swiped at my small entertainment and sent it flying across the desk. With my full attention, he head-butted into my hand, purring like a little motor.
“I really am sorry for being late. Do you need a pick-me-up? I’ll watch the front while you run and grab a coffee.” Jordyn’s overly sweet apology made me feel worse about my attitude. It wasn’t her fault I was in such a slump. I liked Harlow, and I was happy for both of them; I just couldn’t help but wish that Jordyn and I were still in the same phase of life, just like we always had been until recently.
“Maybe later.” I gave her a smile that hopefully said I wasn’t holding her blissful romance against her. “You know, a bunch of apples have gone missing from the orchard lately,” I hedged. “We should go investigate.”
“Squirrels,” Jordyn answered with a flick of her wrist. “Case closed.”
“Randy thinks there are people squatting in the pumpkin patch.”
“Just the local ghouls.”
“Oh, come on!” I urged. “Let’s get the Scooby Gang back together. I’m going to die from boredom and need something stimulating! A mystery to solve or someone to save! And you’re never around to hang anymore, which isn’t your fault,” I added hastily, “but it would be nice to havesomethingto do together again.”
Jordyn arched a brow at me as she rearranged the wicker baskets near the door. “I think you need to get laid.”
“I’ve already banged all of the single witches in this town.” I pouted. “The vamps don’t like the taste of my witch blood, the monsters are all emotionally unavailable, and there’s not a single lesbian mermaid in the swamp. Can you believe it? Mermaids, Jordyn! You’d think it’d be a sure thing! Everyone knows there’s nothing gayer than freaking mermaids.” I dropped my head into my hands. “I’ve run out of options.”
“Wyatt’s little sister is gay,” Jordyn offered.
