And wasn’t that the truth? Considering Cain’s penchant for referring to Riggs as ‘Agent Boy Band’, I was pretty sure they’d never met. And even though they’d been working side by side on the same case for days, they never would meet. And I was fairly sure that was just fine by Cain.

  Agent Riggs slipped his sunglasses off once he stepped into the shade cast by the police station, revealing pretty hazel peepers and lashes long enough they were positively wasted on a fella. He tucked the arm of his glasses into the pocket of his suit coat, so they hung down.

  “I still don’t know how you even saw that handprint to know it was important, Darla,” he offered. “How did you know it belonged to the killer?”

  Technically, it belonged to the killer’s accomplice and getaway driver, but Riggs and the other humans involved in the case wouldn’t remember it like that.

  “Well.” I hummed and looked around conspiratorially. There were only a few people on the sidewalk by the station, and none of them were paying attention, but I still made a big show of checking them over. Then I leaned forward, and when Agent Riggs lowered his head, I whispered, “I’m psychic.”

  He laughed unexpectedly loud, and I giggled along with him. It felt nice not being at odds with each other for once. He wasn’t so bad when he wasn’t being a deliberate jerk.

  Agent Riggs pushed his coat out of the way so he could rest his hands on his hips. “I still don’t know if I can wrap my head around that. Though maybe.” He paused, a light coming to his peepers as he ran them over my cute sundress and white sandals. “You could tell me more about it sometime. Say, over dinner?”

  And there it was. So he was sweet on me, just like Cain had guessed.

  Only problem was, I wasn’t sweet on him.

  I’d just opened my mouth to gently turn him down when I caught a glimpse of movement in my peripheral.

  Henner Tayir was walking down the sidewalk, looking adorable in his usual cargo shorts, combat boots and sweatshirt, with his dark hair mussed like he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly.

  I beamed so brightly, my cheeks hurt.

  Two steps forward brought me to the edge of the sidewalk, and I reached out to take Henner by the hand.

  His face split into a boyish smile, and I used my grip to reel him in until I could plant a peck on his cheek.

  Then I turned back to Agent Riggs. “I’m sorry, and thank you for the invite, but I’ve already got a date to see a wrestling match with this fella, so I’m spoken for.”

  Agent Riggs’s poise didn’t falter, though it did get a bit dimmer. “Figures.” He gave an exaggerated sigh. “Still, I had to ask.”

  “I’m flattered,” I answered like a true dame with breeding.

  He nodded to Henner, and then to me. “I’ll see you around, Miss Rowe.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say to that. “I hope not too soon” seemed rude. But something told me they didn’t send out anyone with the title of ‘special agent’ for fudge heists or petty lawn ornament wars, and that was the kind of crime we usually had in Haven Hollow. In the end, I just waved goodbye as Agent Riggs turned away.

  The chimes above the door tinkled as he pushed his way inside.

  “Not that I’m complaining, but what made you change your mind about the match?” Henner asked.

  I felt my face flushing at the hopeful look in his peepers.

  I reached out to take his mitts in mine and linked our fingers together. His skin was dry, and so warm against mine. I wanted to hold those hands up to my chest and see if I could steal some of that heat for myself, but I shook off the temptation.

  “See, the thing is, I’m currently in something of a… strange living arrangement,” I explained on an exhale and wondered how Henner would take the info that Cain was now my permanent accessory. “I’d be happy to tell you about it. Maybe over dinner tonight, if you’re free?”

  Henner squeezed my hand. “Sure, dinner sounds great.” Then his eyebrows met in the center of his forehead and he gave me that adorable expression of confusion that rode around on his face whenever we were together. “What kind of living arrangements are you talking about? You mean with Libby?”

  If only my zombie roommate was the weirdest thing about me, that would be a relief.

  “No. No, not Libby. And… I’m actually not living at the duplex at the moment.”

  “Oh?”

  I nodded. “I’ve been staying at the chief of police’s house for a while now.”

  Henner’s brows furrowed again. “Taliyah’s?”

  I waved our joined hands. “The late chief of police, I mean. I promise, I’ll explain in detail later. And… if you’re okay with everything, if you think you can handle it, I would be up for more dates in the future.” I paused, biting my lower lip.

  What if this whole possession thing was too weird? What if it was a deal breaker? I couldn’t blame Henner, of course, but it would crush me all the same.

  “Hey.” Henner raised our joined hands so he could use his thumb to tug my lip out from between my teeth. My lower lip tingled, heat emanating through my body from where he’d touched me. I resisted the urge to run my tongue over the spot.

  “It’s okay. You can tell me.”

  I took a deep breath, and blurted out in a rush, “What’s your feeling about ghostly third wheels for the next… year?”

  To me, a year seemed like a lifetime, but I supposed it really wasn’t that much time at all in the grand scheme of things. Of course, I wasn’t looking forward to cohabitating with Cain Morgan when I didn’t have a murder to distract him with. He was the restless type. Maybe I could park him in front of the tele and put on some true crime documentaries whenever we weren’t busy with a case.

  “Ghostly third wheels?” Henner repeated.

  “Yeah… as in Cain Morgan ghostly.”

  “Oh, wow!” There was something decidedly interested in his gaze. “He’s haunting your house?”

  “Well, he’s haunting his own house, technically,” I started on a shrug. “But… he’s also haunting… well, me.”

  Henner blinked, surprised. “Oh.”

  I didn’t wilt, but I was a close. My smile might have dimmed a few degrees. “Yeah. Oh.”

  “Well, that’s… alright I guess, a might weird but what’s new in Haven Hollow?”

  That wasn’t the reaction I’d been expecting. I blinked at him twice before I could respond. “It’s alright with you?”

  “Yeah.” He squeezed my hands again. “As long as you’re happy with him haunting you, then I guess I am, too.”

  “Oh.” Definitely not the response I was expecting. A faint tingling built in my stomach, fizzing like champagne bubbles. “Well, I guess I’m happy about it.” Actually, I didn’t really know how to feel about Cain Morgan possessing me.

  Henner leaned forward to brush his kisser over the curve of my cheek.

  I had to close my peepers, afraid I’d do something totally embarrassing, like lean into it or throw myself into his arms and beg him to take me astral orbiting.

  As he pulled back, he said, “I’m happy with whatever, Darla, as long as it’s with you.”

  The joy building in my chest had to go somewhere, or I was afraid I was going to start leaking light, so I threw back my noggin and laughed.

  I had a brand-new lease on life, a great group of people I could call my friends, and a date with a swell fella to watch the greatest sport in the world.

  Cranky spook possessing me or not, the future was looking bright.

  The End

  ~~~~~

  Return to Haven Hollow in:

  Druid’s Curse

  ~~~~~

  Return to the Table of Contents

  DRUID’S CURSE

  Haven Hollow #18

  (Poppy’s Potions)

  by

  H.P. MALLORY

  &

  J.R. RAIN

  Druid’s Curse

  Published by Rain Press

  Copyright © 2022 by J.R. Rain & H.P. Mallory

  All rights reserved.

  Ebook Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Druids Curse

  Chapter One

  I added a few drops of lemon oil to the potion that was bubbling away on the counter and stifled a yawn with the back of my hand as the liquid turned a bright sunshine yellow.

  That looked promising.

  New potion recipes could be a little hit and miss while I worked out the particulars… I was still scraping wax off my ceiling after a botched Mood Lifter potion, but I had high hopes for this one.

  I set the little glass eye-dropper on its dish, to be cleaned later, and settled my elbows on the counter while I waited for the potion to steep. There was no rushing the process, not without risking the whole thing going wonky, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t tempted to chug it back anyway, and who cared if I scalded my tongue? My usual energy-restoring potions just couldn’t seem to keep up lately, so I had my fingers crossed that my new Zest recipe would work. If nothing else, the bright citrus scent was helping to clear the cobwebs out of my head.

  The decorative street lights along Main Street had come on over an hour ago, and true night had fallen over Haven Hollow. I normally would have closed my store, Poppy’s Potions, a while ago, but I’d recently had to close shop when I’d traveled to the East Coast to attend a witch conference with Wanda. And since my shop was a one-woman operation, that meant no sales while I was gone. So now I was putting in the extra time where I could—I’d already had a long list of client potions before I left and now that list seemed to have doubled.

  I glanced out to the parking spot in front of my shop and eyed the pretty white Jeep I’d purchased with my insurance settlement after a rogue vampire named Roscoe had taken out my last Jeep (and he’d also nearly taken me out with it).

  As the memories of the attack rolled into my head, I tried to fight them back. Roscoe had literally torn into me, and if it hadn’t been for my friends rushing me to the hospital in time, I would have bled to death in my own living room. Sometimes at night, I could still feel his gross breath on the skin of my throat, feel the phantom pain of his teeth sinking through my flesh.

  Movies and books lead you to believe that vampires bite neatly, just two little discrete punctures above your neck while you’re wearing a lacy white nightgown. But that wasn’t the case at all—Roscoe had bitten me like he was a rabid dog, all teeth and fury.

  And he’d done a number on my house too. Pretty much destroyed the inside of it. Luckily, Lorcan, Haven Hollow’s vampire dentist and my own personal friend, was beyond loaded and he paid for everything to be fixed—which was good timing because I’d been meaning to get the place remodeled for a while now. This was just the perfect excuse to really get started.

  I swallowed hard, and thought about the fact that ever since Roscoe had attacked me, I was still dragging and feeling tired after the smallest bit of exertion. I had to force myself out of bed in the morning, and usually fell asleep not long after getting home in the evening.

  I hadn’t mentioned this to anyone, mainly because it seemed like there was always something going on—something bigger, something more important, something requiring all our attention and focus. And I didn’t want people to start feeling sorry for me or, worse, think there was something wrong with me.

  Anyway, this constant tired feeling was the reason why I’d been tinkering with my new Zest potion. I just wanted to get some of my old energy back. I was tired of dragging around, of not being able to do all the things I wanted to. I was ready to be the old Poppy again.

  There hadn’t been any customers in my store for the last few hours, and I was thinking about closing up for the night. My potion was almost finished brewing, and I could set it aside to cool before heading out. With any luck, I’d have a supernatural energy drink waiting for me in the morning when I managed to drag myself back to the shop.

  As much as I wanted to be home, I wasn’t looking forward to stepping out into the night, outside my door. I couldn’t explain why, but I had this ominous feeling—like the shadows of the street were just waiting for me to walk out so they could pounce. It was silly to think such thoughts, and I knew that. And yet, the darkness outside my pretty glass windows felt unfriendly, and darker than usual.

  I took a couple of slow breaths, in and out. I knew I was safe in the shop. It was my place, my power and my potions anointed right into the walls and the wooden floorboards. Still feeling a few shivers of unease coursing through me, I told myself to focus on the store and all the things in it—that usually made me feel better. So, I looked around and focused on the soft amber light, the heavy wood shelves and the antique cabinets—all looking like something an apothecary might have carried a hundred years ago. The shelves were filled with delicate glass bottles in a rainbow of shades and colors, and everything folded around me like the hug of a warm, familiar sweater.

  “Mom?”

  The hesitant question jolted me from where I was half-lying on the shop’s oak counter, propped up on my elbows. I hadn’t been sleeping, certainly, but the time between blinking had been getting longer and longer. Definitely time to get home, before I was too sleepy to drive safely.

  I turned to face my son, Finn, and resisted the urge to run my hand over his fly-away blonde hair. He was thirteen now, and didn’t appreciate my fussing. It was a hard habit to break, though, especially when the years had all seemed to blur together—almost more of a wind blowing him straight through his childhood years.

  Yep, Finn was thirteen and he was now taller than I was—an easy five-eight to my five-four. He was all lanky long lines and skinny appendages.

  I smiled, trying to hide a yawn behind my hand. “Hi, buddy, what’s up?”

  He peered over at the beaker full of golden liquid bubbling away, and sniffed the air. “How’s your coffee on crack coming along?”

  “It’s a Zest potion,” I corrected. No thirteen-year-old should have been talking about crack, but I was fairly sure Finn had no idea what crack was. Furthermore, I wasn’t exactly sure what it was either—a drug, yes, but beyond that, I imagined I was as clueless as I hoped Finn was.

  Finn smiled, but it wasn’t his usual sunny grin. It was a gray cloudy day, with only a few hints of daylight. There were shadows beneath his eyes. For however tired I’d been lately, Finn had been doubly so. At first I’d thought he wasn’t sleeping but every time I checked on him at night, he was snoring away.

  “Can you help me? I’m stuck on a math problem.”

  In general, Finn hadn’t been his happy self lately—ever since the thing had happened with Roscoe and then I’d had to leave him for a little while to go to the East Coast with Wanda… it seemed our life in Haven Hollow had been hard on him most recently.

  And I hated that.

  It was hard for Finn to talk about his feelings sometimes, so I hadn’t pressed him about his silence and overall dour mood lately. I’d just tried to be around him, to show him I was okay, and that I wasn’t going to leave him again anytime soon. And I’d made it clear that if he ever wanted to talk, I’d listen, or anyone else would if he was more comfortable talking to someone besides his mom. I was hoping a little of what passed for normalcy in Haven Hollow would help coax my cheerful son back to himself.

  “Sure, sweet pea. Let’s take a look.”

  Not that I’d be of much help. Even in my own school days, math hadn’t exactly been my strong point, and I was less of a fan now. Much to my chagrin, I was not, in fact, smarter than a fifth grader. Er, or a seventh grader, as the case may be.

  We headed to the back room of the shop, where we’d set up a little table for Finn to use as his desk. In the unlikely event of an actual customer coming in at this time of evening, the bell over the door would alert me to step back out front. But I seriously doubted anyone was going to come by.

  Even Finn’s steps seemed heavier, like he was slogging through clay. It made my mom senses tingle. Finn seemed extra quiet lately, less likely to make jokes or laugh or even smile. And his mood didn’t seem like the onset of teenage surliness or anything like that. He was just—different. A little quieter, a little sadder, and a lot more tired. I’d asked him if something was bothering him, of course, but I hadn’t pressed too hard when he’d denied anything and told me not to worry.

  “It’s this one,” he said, sliding back into his chair as he pointed to the problem on his piece of paper. “I can’t get the right answer.”

  “And you gave it a shot on your own?” I asked, eyeing him pointedly.

  “Yeah, I did, Mom, and I couldn’t figure it out.”

  It wasn’t that I minded giving Finn my, somewhat meager, help. But this was the sixth question he’d struggled with in the last hour. It seemed my son had inherited his mom’s lack of number sense.

  I looked at his homework page with a frown. Addition, subtraction, multiplication, long division, no problems. Potion making came with lots of measurements and some calculations, but once someone started talking about angles and rhomboids and x equaling this and y equaling that and I was lost in the wind.

  “Are you paying attention to your lessons in class, Finn?” I double-checked.

  “Yeah.”

  “And if you don’t understand how to do something, are you telling the teacher? Are you asking questions?”

  He breathed in deeply and then exhaled just as deeply. “Well… we got this new teacher a few weeks ago; her name’s Ms. Rose, and it’s like she’s always in a bad mood. She gets really annoyed if we ask too many questions, so I decided I’d rather figure my questions out myself.”

  I frowned. “Ms. Rose? What happened to Mrs. Dove?”

  Finn shrugged, thin shoulders rising and falling with the movement. “She’s been sick, so Ms. Rose took over our class.”

  Maybe that was part of the reason Finn was so down in the dumps lately. A crabby teacher could make school more stressful than it already was.

  “Alright.” I leaned over his textbook, eyeing the equation in question. “Let’s see what I can do.”