Ideas began to take shape in my mind as I wandered further inside, scanning the shelves. I recognized many of the potions, but some of them I’d never heard of—which surprised me. Clearly, this Morton girl had an impressive ability when it came to brewing.

  I found myself in the aisle of love and lust potions, and already my mind was racing. Love was usually the number one potion people were after, money placing second. And this gypsy had three shelves full of love and lust potions.

  “Circe Oil,” I murmured, reading the name off the label as I lifted the shapely crystal bottle and studied it. I hadn’t come across the oil in a long time—it could be difficult to brew, so most witches just avoided it altogether.

  I plucked five more lust potions from the shelf, tucking them into the bend of my arm. Then I started into the money and luck potions. From this section of the gypsy’s store, I selected Fast Luck, Wealthy Way, and Easy Times Oil. Money and luck never hurt, and these prices were actually a bargain ($10.00 a potion), compared to what a witch would charge.

  Eventually I moved to a section called ‘Home’ and busied myself by examining a potion labeled Protection Against Thieves when I caught the sound of someone clearing her throat. I looked over and found the gypsy standing beside me.

  “Hi, do you need a basket?” Holly Morton asked as she looked up at me with a pretty smile and those big blue eyes. She looked even more irritatingly wholesome in person, and I suddenly yearned to turn her into a bullfrog or something equally repulsive—maybe a river rat.

  “I’m fine,” I drawled, satisfied when her smile slipped a half-inch.

  “It’s no problem…” she started, but then she paused, eyes going round.

  3… 2… 1 and she’d realize…

  “You’re a witch,” she breathed.

  I was sure my smile was every inch that of the Cheshire Cat’s. “I am.”

  “The one I saw the other night,” she continued, and even though I was hoping to see fear in her eyes, or concern, at the very least… I saw something else. Surprise, certainly, but there was more to it—determination, maybe?

  “The other night?” I questioned.

  She nodded. “You were dancing in the graveyard, behind my house.”

  Of course she’d seen the disaster in the graveyard, when I’d tried to bond with the natural world and only ended up creating sparks. I needed to strike the fear of... well, me into this silly woman, and she’d already seen me at my worst. More crappy luck.

  There had to be a hex on me—it was the only explanation for all the crap that had befallen me for the last I didn’t even know how long.

  “That was me,” I said, figuring it was all I could say.

  “And you live in Haven Hollow?” she asked, her tone revealing nothing, but I knew better. She was as aware as I was that if I owned property here, I could boot her out. And that’s exactly what I was going to do—whether I owned property or not!

  Another little smile touched my lips. “I do.”

  She actually had the audacity to smile back. Pleasantly. Damn her.

  “Well, welcome.”

  My fingers curled like claws around the vials I held in each hand. She was welcoming me? This wasn’t the way things were supposed to go! She should have been cowering, should have been scared to death that I was going to hex her into oblivion and here she was welcoming me to the town I was about to force her to leave!

  I swallowed a growl of frustration. I’d force her out at some point, yes. But, for now, I needed to get my shop up and running, and all these readymade potions would save me a ton of time. And time was money. So, in that respect, she was a gift from Tituba. Not to mention I had my own concerns I could address with her potions, as well.

  Namely, one irritating vampire…

  “Where would I find hexing and banishing potions?” I asked, not bothering to thank her for welcoming me into her town, er, my town.

  She frowned. “Well, I don’t really have any of those stocked.”

  “And why not?”

  She shrugged. “Because I don’t really make them. I only deal with light magic.”

  I rolled my eyes and made a sound that carried my frustration. “Fine. Where would I find uncrossing potions?”

  “You think you’ve been cursed?”

  Goddess, I had to be cursed. If not by the vampire, then by someone in my coven—Mother had motive. So did Tabitha, and a number of others. Really, the list of people who didn’t want to curse me was shorter than the list of those who did.

  “Just show me where they are.”

  “No problem,” Poppy said, maintaining her smile in spite of my rudeness. Ugh, she was as bad as Ned Flanders!

  She kept up a helpful monologue about each section of the store as she led me to the back, all the while explaining what the most popular potions were. She seemed to gain confidence the longer I went without hexing her, and by the time we reached the uncrossing potions, she was positively chatty, even throwing in small personal details, and shooting me glances, like she hoped I’d join in.

  Spell no.

  We were not turning this into an episode of Sex and the Sorceress.

  Blood Witch or not, I had standards to maintain.

  Poppy retrieved a basket for my purchases when I continued to pluck vials from the shelves. Between the white-blonde hair and the incessantly perky attitude, she reminded me of a needy golden retriever.

  “The Dragon’s Blood Oil would be a good one to try,” she prattled on as she reached out and palmed the potion in question. “It’s for getting rid of dark and evil magic.”

  “I know that,” I answered, sounding put-out, but I took the vial once she put it back on the shelf and I placed it in my basket.

  I rounded off my purchases with a pair of taper candles and the respective oils to anoint them. Surely that was enough to try to break whatever curse was on me?

  Following the annoying woman up to the front of the store, I watched as she unloaded each potion and candle and then began punching the prices into her antique till before she looked up at me again. “You’re in luck!”

  “Why is that?” I answered, frowning at her.

  She gave me that winning smile again until I wanted to throw up all over her counter.

  “Well, ordinarily the potions are ten dollars each, but I’m running a special this week, just in time for the holidays.”

  “What’s the special?” I asked, sounding bored.

  “Twenty-five dollars for three.”

  “Great.”

  She nodded and continued ringing me up, humming something and tapping her foot as I struggled to keep my cool. There was nothing more exasperating than a hummer and toe-tappers were an easy second.

  She looked up at me. “So the potions would be seventy-five dollars even and the candles are eight dollars and twenty-five cents each so... your total comes to ninety-one dollars and fifty cents.”

  She wore a nervous smile, as if she expected to be blasted into the glass cabinet behind her desk. Honestly, I’d been expecting to pay more. The ten dollars per potion was already a steal—the fact that she was further marking them down proved she had no idea what her talents were worth. She could have been peddling them at twice the price to junior witches, the lazy spellcaster, or those with a genuine lack of talent, like me. Yet, everything I’d put in my basket had come out to under a hundred. With my current finances, it wasn’t an insignificant amount, true, but it would save me money in the long run. And if it meant I could get rid of this curse someone had put on me, it was worth every penny.

  I reached into my Fendi purse where it was slung over my shoulder and produced the matching embossed leather wallet. Once upon a time, I’d had around a dozen Fendi purses, but I hadn’t been able to smuggle all of them past Mother before she’d kicked me out.

  I paid Poppy in cash, with the exact change, and she quickly counted it, before stuffing it into the drawer. Then she loaded the candles and each individual vial into a brown paper sack and offered it to me.

  “Thank you for stopping by,” she said, trying to put some real enthusiasm behind the words. The effort was almost painful to watch. “If you need any instructions on how to use them, you can call or look up the particulars on my web page. It’s www dot…”

  “I’ll be fine. I know what I’m doing,” I said, cutting across her.

  I was no good at interacting with people and pleasant people, least of all. I found I wanted to beat their upbeat positivity positively out of them. Smiling that much wasn’t natural, and, honestly, it was a little creepy. What in the name of Hecuba was there to be so happy about?

  Her sunny smile dimmed for only a second, rallying when she heard the rumble of male voices coming through her door. I couldn’t help a curious glance over my shoulder. I hadn’t exactly been social since arriving in the Hollow, too busy trying to handle all the crap coming my way. And then dealing with Lorcan Rowe…

  Two men entered the store and beamed at the gypsy.

  The first man was enormous, nearly having to duck to enter into the store. He had an impressive barrel chest, short, thick brown hair, and a strong jaw lined with stubble. Bulging muscles strained the fabric of his denim work shirt. He’d rolled his sleeves back, revealing fairly hairy, hard forearms, and enormous calloused hands. He was the better part of seven feet tall, and exuded a wild, animal aura so potent, it drew the eye even from across the room.

  There were only two types of creatures that could throw off that raw animal magnetism, and they all had a tie to nature. Werecreatures and sasquatch. Between the hair and the height, I was betting on the latter.

  I considered him speculatively. There was a redwood I wouldn’t mind climbing…

  The man just behind him was a bit of a letdown after Mr. Muscles. He looked like he was in his early forties, his hair and the stubble on his face peppered with gray. Tall, long-legged, and lean, he looked like a beanpole next to the sasquatch, whose muscles still seemed to be rippling, even at rest. This guy was generically handsome and utterly, uselessly and boringly… human. Good for a one-night stand, maybe, but not my type. He was Raggedy Andy to Poppy’s Raggedy Ann, provided they’d both been given dye jobs. There was something just too… wholesome about him. And I, for one, would never be able to settle for wholesome.

  “Marty! Roy!” Poppy said, rounding the desk to throw her arms around the sasquatch’s neck. She had to jump to do it, and dangled like a trout on a line for a half-second, until the sasquatch placed two broad hands on her waist and lifted her up to give him a proper kiss.

  So, he was taken. Dammit.

  A brief pang of disappointment shot through me.

  At least I wasn’t the only one sour about it—the human man’s mouth twisted down into a brief frown at the display of romance between the gypsy and the sasquatch. Then he stared at the floor rather than either of them.

  Interesting... Friendly I might not have been, but nosy? Absolutely.

  Poppy laughed when Roy set her gingerly on the ground and the sound settled between my ears like a blade to the brain. Ugh, she was really, really annoying. “Not that I don’t appreciate the visit, boys, but what’s the occasion?” Then she looked at the obviously love-struck human. He was easily the St. Bernard to her Golden Retriever. “Do we have another case, Marty?”

  “Nope,” Marty answered, finally lifting his eyes to hers.

  “Oh,” she said as I stood there, wondering when someone was going to realize I was standing in the same room! Usually I took center stage when it came to men’s attention, and neither of these two dopes had even noticed me! What an outrage!

  “Then?” she prodded the dopey human.

  “I was out for a drink with Henner and RJ when Lorcan called,” Marty continued. At the mention of the insufferable vampire, of course, my ears perked. “Apparently he couldn’t find his keys and needed a lift,” Marty finished as I swallowed a laugh. It was then that I looked outside and realized it was already growing dark, thus Lorcan would be up and about.

  Dammit.

  “So why are you here?” Poppy asked, frowning at Marty and then looking at Roy as if she was surprised to see the two of them together.

  “Well, Lorcan mentioned something about stopping by to ask you about the Tranquility Oil he had on order?”

  “Oh, right,” Poppy said as she started for her desk. She picked up a paper bag and handed it to Marty. “Here they are.” Then she looked up at Roy, who was already busy staring at her. “How do you fit into this?” she asked him with a smile.

  It was Marty who answered. “Roy declared me unfit to drive so...”

  Roy shrugged. “So, here we are.”

  “And where’s Lorcan?” she asked. “He still owes me for the last batch of Tranquility Oil.”

  “Right,” Roy said. “He’s at the ATM right outside.”

  The ATM? Right outside? Oh, Goddess… I had to get out of here before…

  The bell tinkled as the tall, lean, and utterly loathsome vampire pushed into the shop, pausing on the threshold when he caught me standing, frozen, by the counter.

  His eyes brightened, and he smiled wide enough to flash both fangs.

  A threat? A promise?

  “Just the conspiring little twit I was hoping to see,” he said as he stared me down.

  Chapter Eleven

  Poppy glanced between the vampire and me, small lines creasing her brow.

  “You two know each other?” she asked as she looked at Lorcan, a suspicious expression on her face.

  “Unfortunately,” I muttered, taking a deep breath and holding my head up high. The fact that I was even standing here, clearly having purchased the gypsy’s wares was embarrassment enough—Rowe would be very familiar with the fact that witches brewed their own potions. The last thing I wanted was the vampire rubbing this in my face. My mere presence here was proof of how far I’d fallen. I shouldn’t have had to scrounge and scrape and stake by with a gypsy’s brews.

  “Poppy, love, meet Mellie,” the penis started as my hands fisted.

  “Mellie, it’s nice…” the stupid woman started as she turned to face me with a happy smile.

  “That’s not my name!” I nearly bellowed at her, stopping her short.

  “Mellie is renting half the duplex across the way from your lovely home,” Rowe continued, clearly wanting to get across the fact that I was just renting, that I was decidedly not a home owner. The bastard. “I just so happen to be her landlord.”

  He was definitely going out of his way to rub salt in my wounds. And there was nothing I could say to improve the situation. Any gypsy enchantress worth her salt would understand the Sanctum Spell and its prerequisites.

  No land, no spell, no territory claimed.

  Damn him!

  “And your name isn’t Mellie?” Poppy asked as she faced me again.

  “My name is Wandellmellia,” I answered.

  “Wow, what a name,” Marty, the human, responded.

  I faced him and narrowed my eyes. “Which is precisely the reason people call me ‘Wanda’.” Then I turned my attention back to Rowe, who was already smiling at me in that way of his. “But this blood-sucking bastard insists on calling me Mellie.”

  He shrugged. “Only because she bristled at sweetling.”

  “Lorcan,” Poppy said, tone chiding. Her arms flew to her hips, and she gave him such a matronly look of disapproval that he actually appeared cowed for a moment.

  Whatever magic it was, I wanted it. Maybe then he’d leave me the spell alone.

  “Well, Wanda, welcome to Haven Hollow,” Marty said, offering her a big smile. “I’m Marty Zach.” He extended his hand and I took it, even with the distaste written all over my mouth. “I have my own ghosthunting business so in case you ever find yourself with a spook you’d like exorcised, just give me a call.”

  “Oh,” I said, not really sure what else to say.

  “And I’m Roy,” the sasquatch added. “I own the Half-Moon Bar and Grill, here in town.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I managed.

  “And as for you, Mr. Rowe,” Poppy continued as she poked him in the chest with her index finger. The familiarity between them irked me even more than her humming and tapping had. “Stop teasing our newest resident.”

  “It’s just a nickname, love,” Rowe responded.

  “Well, she doesn’t like it. So stop it.”

  Lorcan squared his shoulders, a hint of petulance in the set of his mouth, but I could tell from the look in his eye that her order wouldn’t mean much. He seemed to respect her... to a point. But whatever plans he had for me, they weren’t going to be stymied by a stubborn enchantress.

  “I have a busy day,” I started, all but sprinting for the front door. I half-expected Lorcan’s hand to shoot out and snare me by the wrist the way he’d done that first night.

  But Lorcan either wasn’t willing to sully his reputation in front of Poppy and the others, or he didn’t want to cross me after last night’s serpentine adventure. Either way, I made it to the front door without being accosted. Then, I burst out into the nippy December evening, sucking in deep lungfuls of the thin air. The scent was clean and cold after the aromatic assault that was Poppy’s Potions.

  I made it across the street, despite nearly being sideswiped yet again by the Nooks and Crannies Cleaning van as it turned onto Main Street. I scowled at the retreating bumper as a long-fingered hand came down on my left shoulder, tightening like an iron claw, and tugging me to a stop, just in front of my shop.

  The vampire spun me around, pressing my back against the glass of the shop windows. “What were you doing at Poppy’s?” he demanded, leaning his weight into me until the glass shivered in protest. If he wasn’t careful, he’d send me right through it. I was surprised by his show of strength. And, if I were being honest with myself, a little turned on.