I set the bottle down on the counter, and shuffled a few more breakable bits of glassware a little further back, just in case anything else unexpected happened. One never could tell with Astrid... “Well, hypothetically, I don’t really brew potions designed for ‘teaching lessons’, so I’m not sure I’m the person to ask.”

  Astrid rolled her eyes and huffed, like I was the source of every difficulty in her life. “Come on, I’m doing a public service here. Shouldn’t you be encouraging me? What kind of mentor are you, anyway?”

  It was an effort of will not to let my lips twitch up into a smile. Astrid wouldn’t appreciate my amusement at her dramatics, and an offended teenage witch wasn’t something I was prepared to deal with today. I had enough on my plate as it was with an offended thirteen-year-old would-be magician.

  “Okay,” I said, drawing out the word. “Why don’t you tell me more about this ‘arrogant jerk’ and what he’s done to offend you? Then maybe I might have some suggestions.”

  Astrid dropped herself down into one of my kitchen chairs in a boneless way that only teens and cats can manage. “His name is Trenton Park.”

  “Hmm, sounds like he’s cute.”

  She glared at me. “He’s not. He’s a jerk.”

  “Right.”

  “Right.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, he’s in the grade above me, and he’s the most insufferable…”

  “Jerk,” I filled in for her.

  “Jerk I’ve had the misfortune of meeting.” She breathed in deeply, no doubt powering up for the litany of information that was ready to come from her mouth. “He seems to think that because he’s athletic and doesn’t look like a complete and total troglodyte that he’s something special.” Astrid snorted, a sharp, dismissive sound. “Like being able to throw a ball or hit something with a stick are the heights of achievement and anything to be proud of.”

  “So, let me make sure I’ve got this right.” I turned, my eyes wide, clutching a bottle of tea tree oil to my chest. “Do you mean to tell me that a cute teenage boy is being… obnoxious? Have you alerted the authorities, called the news stations?”

  The look Astrid shot me was packed with disdain. “I know you think it’s funny, but it’s not. Trenton is insufferable.”

  “Well, unfortunately for you, that’s how men are going to be for the next… hmm, at least ten years.”

  She started inspecting her nails in exactly the same way Wanda did when she was bored. “You’d think that if Wanda was going to force me to go to school with children, she’d at least let me hex them when they get out of line.”

  I hummed non-committedly and added a couple drops of jasmine extract to a beaker, which was bubbling away over a Bunsen burner. Then I smiled with delight as the liquid changed to pale lavender. It was always a good thing when potions behaved the way they were supposed to.

  “Speaking of Wanda,” I said, as I looked over at her cousin. “How is she? I haven’t seen her much lately.”

  Astrid rolled her eyes as she looked at me. “That’s because she and the vampire are like joined at the hip now or something.”

  “‘The vampire’?” I questioned with a smile.

  “Lorcan.”

  “I know which vampire, silly,” I chided her. “I just thought… you liked Lorcan enough to call him by his proper name.”

  “I do like him.”

  “But?”

  “But nothing,” she sighed and then shook her head. “It’s good to see Wanda enjoying herself, but sometimes… she can be a little… too loud while she’s enjoying herself.”

  At that, I threw my head back and laughed.

  “Anyway, we’re getting off topic.” Astrid waved her hands in the air before pinning me with her eyes. “The point is, Trenton has decided he’s something special, and the rest of the witless masses actually agree with him, and he’s been lording over the other students, and someone needs to do something about it.”

  “And let me guess? That someone is you?”

  She nodded. “I really don’t like it when I see him tormenting some of the meeker students, the ones who can’t or won’t stand up for themselves. I’m just… I’m sick and tired of it, Poppy!”

  “Well, that’s admirable of you.”

  She nodded again. “Now, I can’t hex him obviously, but slipping him a potion would be much more subtle.”

  “Astrid, I’m not helping you poison a teenager.” I set my timer and frowned at the old clock on the wall as something occurred to me. “Wait, shouldn’t you be in school right now?”

  “Shouldn’t you be at work?” she countered, arching a brow at me. She’d definitely learned that expression from her cousin, I was sure of it.

  Touché, I thought wryly. “It was slow at the store today, so I closed up early to work on restocking some potions that were getting low.”

  It was a good reason, even a little true. I still had to replace all the potions I’d managed to drop when I’d first bumped into Andre. But really, I’d come home early in order to make sure I was there when Finn got home from school. Recently, Finn had decided he wanted to start taking the bus home from school, rather than having me pick him up each day. I obliged him because it was actually easier on me—either he’d take the bus directly home or he’d take it to town, in which case, he’d just walk to the store and we’d drive home together.

  Today, though, I’d told him to get the bus to drop him off at home.

  I hadn’t had a chance to talk to him this morning, having slept way past my alarm. I’d barely had time to shove breakfast at him and race to Haven Middle School to drop him off, never mind having a heart to heart. It had been a silent, awkward morning.

  Astrid waved a dismissive hand. “There’s some sports competition at school over the next few days, so they let us out at noon. The point is, Trenton will be there, and it will be the perfect moment to bring him down a peg or two.”

  A headache bloomed to life between my eyes, and I rubbed the skin there in a vain attempt to soothe it. “Astrid, it’s very nice that you want to stick up for your fellow students, but—”

  “Who’s talking about sticking up for them?” Her entire face pinched with indignation and offense. “Were you even listening?”

  “Yes, I was listening!”

  “Poppy, this is about revenge! Trenton’s arrogance is starting to affect me, and so, he must be punished.”

  “Right. Of course.” Witches could be so prickly if you even hinted that they weren’t acting entirely in their own self-interest. “What exactly are you asking me to do?”

  She leaned forward eagerly, fingers curling against the old wood table. “I just need something that will maybe plague Trenton with spots, or maybe make his hair fall out? Ooh, better yet, what about something that will make him a clumsy oaf, so he can embarrass himself in front of the entire school! Maybe you could throw in a fart potion or just give him the runs.”

  “I don’t brew potions that do overt harm,” I reminded her patiently. “You know that. I’m not going to help you hex a kid with a potion.” The beaker sputtered, and I whirled around to add one more drop of jasmine, and two of lily extract, and the potion returned to its low rolling boil.

  “Ugh, fine,” she grumbled, slumping back into her chair. “Well, then, if you won’t help me make Trenton embarrass himself, what about making a potion that makes someone better at something?”

  I turned to look at her, incredulous. “Are you asking me for performance-enhancing drugs? You want to frame this boy for cheating or something? That’s even worse.”

  “No,” she admitted, but then chewed on her lower lip as her eyes narrowed. “But that’s actually a pretty good idea.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  She cocked her head to the side. “Actually—”

  I gave her a look. “Astrid.”

  “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Mostly. Relax.” She continued chewing on her lip, looking thoughtful. “But think about it. Trenton likes to show off. A lot. His whole ego is based around the fact that he can throw stuff really far. What if someone showed him up?”

  “Like Libby?” I asked, remembering when she’d caught Hellcat when he kept blipping in and out of existence. She’d basically used a student to launch herself into the air and caught the cat like a football.

  “No, not like Libby.” Astrid was quiet for a few seconds. “What if someone were to show Trenton up? Especially one of the guys Trenton always picks on, the ones who mostly spend their time sitting on the bench… not playing. Someone like Randall Johnson.” She started nodding as a smile took hold of her lips. “If Trenton got showed up by Randall, that would totally crush him. Trenton would shrivel into a husk of his former glory, his name tarnished forever by the sheer ignominy of it all.”

  I stared at her, not sure if I should be proud of her vocabulary or worried about the thoughts going through that head of hers.

  She must have seen the look on my face, because her expression changed into one of exaggerated sincerity. “For the good of the school, of course,” she finished, pressing one hand to her chest as she gave me a carefully crafted smile.

  I shook my head. “Ignominy? You’ve been hanging out with Hell Cat too much.”

  Wanda’s cranky familiar was the only creature whom Astrid could have learned insults from that sounded like they’d been lifted from a Shakespearian manuscript.

  “Maybe,” she muttered. “It’s hard not to pick up the little menace’s more unique sayings. Now… Quit holding out on me. Do you have any ideas?”

  “Hypothetically,” I stressed the word, giving Astrid a patented mom look. “Were I to actually want to help you with this plot of yours, which I decidedly don’t,” I added with a frown that she returned. “I’d probably go with something like Druid’s Curse.”

  “A curse?” Astrid grinned, leaning forward to rest her chin on her laced-together fingers. “Color me impressed. I didn’t think you even knew about curses.”

  “Just because I don’t practice dark magic doesn’t mean I don’t know about it, Astrid, jeez.”

  She nodded, but didn’t seem concerned. Her attention was still resolutely stuck on getting as much information out of me as she could. “Please, go on.”

  The headache gave another throb. “It’s not actually a curse. Just like Mystic Veil isn’t actually a veil. It’s just a name.”

  “Oh. Okay, well, tell me about it anyway.”

  After I checked on my potion to make sure it wasn’t doing anything unexpected, I crossed my arms and leaned back against the counter. “Druid’s Curse is a potion that grants the one who drinks it an edge in competitions, and a certain amount of influence over people, in general. The ancient Druids were pretty big on contests and competitions of witticisms, so it was mostly used for that, but theoretically, it would work on any kind of situation that pits one person against another.”

  “Is it dangerous?”

  I wasn’t sure how to answer that question, so I had to think about it for a second or more. “It’s pretty potent, but also relatively harmless when compared to, say, Fiery Command Oil.”

  “Hmm.” Astrid pressed her tented fingers to her mouth, considering. “That sounds like a good choice. Enough to leave that bragging blowhard in the dirt, but not in a way that’s overtly magical.”

  I raised a hand, palm out. “However… Druid’s Curse involves certain ingredients like mint, and even cat mint, that gives it a very strong citrus and herbal taste. I’m not sure how you’d convince someone to drink it willingly, especially when they don’t know what it is. And if you did manage to get them to drink it, hypothetically, of course...”

  “Of course.”

  “It tastes terrible, so I doubt they’d even swallow it.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that part.” Astrid waved an airy hand.

  “I’m not because this was just a hypothetical conversation anyway, so you aren’t really planning on doing anything of the sort, right?”

  “Right,” she answered quickly. Too quickly.

  I gave my potion a stir, watching as the violet color intensified and then I inhaled a whiff of the floral steam—everything looked and smelled the way it was supposed to. “Continuing this purely hypothetical conversation,” I started and gave her a look to which she gave me one in return. Yep, she was definitely related to Wanda. “What happens when Randall’s talent suddenly dries up immediately after the game, never to be seen again? What will he think? Or anyone else, for that matter?”

  Astrid gave me a blank look. “Who cares? I mean, that doesn’t sound like a ‘me’ problem. Randall can think his fairy godfather came through for him and then he can retire gracefully as a winner.”

  “Right.” I paused. “Do fairies actually do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Nice things?” Because most of my interactions with fairies had been either terrifying or frustrating enough for me to pull my hair out, I couldn’t imagine them actually doing something nice for someone.

  A peal of laughter escaped Astrid, and she wiped her eyes like I’d said something hilarious. “Oh, spell no. But mortals like to believe stupid things.”

  “Right,” I said, dryly enough that all my potions should have evaporated on the spot.

  “So,” Astrid continued brightly. She then sat up straight in her chair and clapped her palms together as she smiled at me. “How does one go about making Druid’s Curse?”

  “One doesn’t.”

  I sighed. The headache was definitely settling in for the long haul. I’d need to dig out some Advil or, failing that, one of my potions, to ease the pain before it got too distracting. “I’m still not sure I like the idea of you making a potion just to troll one of your classmates, Astrid.”

  “Oh, no, no, no, you’ve got me all wrong!” Astrid flashed me wide, innocent eyes. “I don’t want you to let me make a potion like that. I want you to make the potion. And if I just, stand off to the side, trying my best to learn from you... maybe make a fumbling attempt on my own, well, who’s going to tell anyone?”

  I shook my head. “That’s a pretty thin distinction.”

  “It’s called ‘plausible deniability’.” Astrid grinned like a shark, flashing all her teeth. “And on that note, let’s get to work, shall we?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lemon balm and mint, essence of pine, and a crushed leaf of cat mint.

  Druid’s Curse wasn’t a difficult potion, as potions went. It didn’t require days of brewing, didn’t require certain moon phases or solar positions, which was refreshingly convenient for something inspired by the ancient Druids. Apparently, they were very big about the solstices and the high holy days. But still, some of the timing was a little tricky, and the closer you could get it to perfect, the more potent the potion you ended up with. It was why I wasn’t too concerned with it being fed to a random teen. It wasn’t likely that Astrid would be able to nail the timing on the first try well enough to make anything that would draw too much attention. And frankly, if Astrid could convince a boy to drink something that smelled like a freshly mowed lawn, more power to her.

  Acting the part of teacher, I added one last drop of earthy sage to my mixture as Astrid watched me. The smell of petrichor flooded my kitchen, filling the room with the freshness of rain on a parched summer day. The liquid turned a cloudy gray-green in places, rolling like storm clouds through the glass beaker. Light flickered at the potion’s center, dancing like lightning at the heart of a thunderstorm.

  Astrid got more of a fireflies in the fog effect with hers, but she still seemed thrilled with her success. I’d only agreed to make the potion if we viewed it as one of her lessons—there was no purpose in me brewing something myself and just handing it over to her. I was more the type to believe in the ‘teaching a person to fish’ analogy.

  “Amazing! Now what?”

  “Now,” I said, flicking off the gas to the flame. “We strain it, decant it into a bottle, and then let it cool and settle for a couple hours. What you do with it after that, I’m sure I don’t want to know.”

  “See? What did I tell you? Plausible deniability.” Astrid made short work straining out the bits of floating catmint and then slipped her potion into a clear glass vial. “No need to worry about youthful hijinks.”

  I wasn’t sure I agreed with that, but it wasn’t like she’d do any real harm with the potion, so I didn’t comment and wasn’t concerned. Once my own potion was safely stashed away in a pretty emerald bottle, I moved to the sink to clean my hands. I still had a few things to work on, stock to replenish, but none of those potions included mint or catmint and I didn’t want to risk contaminating them.

  Astrid smiled at her prize, looking like a smug cat with a canary feather in the corner of her mouth. “You know, Poppy, you should really consider branching out. I bet you could get loads of business if you started offering more than just squeaky-clean potions all the time.”

  “I don’t just offer squeaky-clean potions,” I answered on a frown.

  She returned it. “You know what I mean—if you actually ventured into the… darker realm of potions. I know a few girls at school that would line up outside your door for a bottle of liquid revenge.”

  “Your cousin already gave me that pitch, and it didn’t work for her, so it’s not going to work for you.” I didn’t have any interest in brewing curses or any other nasty little potions that might cause harm. The lighter offerings I sold were plenty popular, and they’d allowed me to make a life for myself and Finn here in Haven Hollow. That was more than enough for me.

  “Ugh, fine.” She sighed, dramatically. “If you insist on—”

  The front door slammed hard enough to rattle the glassware in the kitchen. I grabbed a bottle of lemon oil before it could tip off the counter and crash to the floor below. Finn was home from school, and clearly, he was still mad at me, or so it seemed.

  I hated denying him something he wanted so badly, but I wouldn’t apologize for taking his safety seriously.