Behind me, someone knocked on the door.

  I sighed, my shoulders slumping. I’d closed the shop a little while ago, hoping that without the influx of customers, I might actually be able to make some headway. But it seemed like all I was doing was making more chaos.

  I figured I might as well let them in. But when I turned around to face the glass, it wasn’t a customer at all. Wanda was waiting at the door, one hand on her hip as she gave me a look that warned me I’d better open up if I didn’t want a hexed door. I hurried over and unlocked the door, as a spike of panic shot up my spine, leaving my fingertips tingling.

  “What’s wrong? I didn’t forget a meeting, did I?”

  Wanda turned to face me, one brow taking on a scathing arch as she gave me a pointed once over.

  “Maybe you should switch to decaf,” she said as she slid past me and headed for where the shipping boxes were still sprawled out on the floor.

  “So, I… didn’t forget a meeting.”

  “I would have let you know if you had,” Wanda drawled. She picked up one of the vials of essential oils, and her nose wrinkled up in distaste.

  “Okay,” I said, slowly. “So, what’s up?”

  Wanda rarely just dropped by. Especially since she’d moved to a nocturnal lifestyle. She wasn’t here to shop, she usually just put in orders with me these days, since her old method, bullying her way into the store an hour before opening so she could browse without anyone bothering her, didn’t work with her new daytime aversion.

  Wanda toed one of the cardboard boxes, and her nose wrinkled up like it was full of bugs instead of citrus oils. “I saw the lights on over here, and knew you were toiling away, long after anyone sensible had closed up shop and gone home to their lives, and I thought I’d see what trouble you were in this time.”

  “No trouble, for once.” I sighed, and raked a hand through my hair. “Just an emergency supply shipment. I’ve been having a heck of a time getting stuff in. And if I want to be able to stock my shelves, let alone have something on hand for the festival, I need ingredients to make potions with.”

  I gestured to the lopsided circle of boxes. “I’ve gone through the whole box, everything in it. Now I just need to put it all away and start a few potions that need to sit overnight. A few will have to wait to be restocked, since the moon phase is wrong.”

  That was frustrating. I wouldn’t have another chance for a full moon until the night before the festival itself.

  “This is why you need to hire some help,” Wanda said with an eyeroll. “Then someone else could be doing this while you make the potions or get your nails done.”

  I huffed a laugh. Wanda was well aware that I never got my nails done. “Maybe one day, but for now, this is a one-woman operation. What are you doing?”

  Wanda huffed, slipping another set of little bottles onto the labeled shelf. “What does it look like?”

  It looked like she was putting my stuff away for me. I flapped my hands.

  “Oh, you don’t need to do that, I can handle it.”

  The glare she pinned me with had my mouth closing so fast that my teeth clicked together.

  “Poppy,” Wanda said, her voice dangerously sweet. “Have you ever known me to do anything I didn’t want to?”

  That was a definite no. I shook my head to say as much.

  “Then be quiet, and let’s get these bottles put away. I’m going to want some potions made at some point, you know.”

  She huffed and tossed her dark hair over one shoulder.

  I grabbed a box and tried not to smile. It was just so like Wanda to do something genuinely kind and then try to play it off as selfish. And I really did need the help if I wanted to get home before Finn’s bedtime.

  “Don’t you have plans with Lorcan tonight?”

  Wanda huffed, exasperated. “He has late hours at the clinic today. So, he’s abandoned me. I might drop by later, though, to make sure that hygienist is keeping her hands to herself.”

  I winced at the dangerous little gleam in Wanda’s eye as she slid three vials of lavender oil onto the shelf a little more forcefully than necessary.

  Lorcan was Haven Hollow’s dentist, and his extended evening hours were pretty convenient for the people in town. Unfortunately, being well-off, handsome, and charming attracted female attention. Which was exactly the case with one of the dental hygienists at his practice. He’d told her he was taken a few times, and I was pretty sure Lorcan thought the matter was settled, but Wanda wasn’t convinced. And from what I’d seen: the long looks, the lingering touches, the way the woman always tried to be in Lorcan’s space, well, Wanda was onto something.

  I just hoped that the hygienist wised up before Wanda turned her into a newt. Because I had a feeling she wouldn’t get better.

  “But otherwise, things are good?” I carried another box over to the shelves, picking my way carefully through the cardboard maze.

  “Well…” Wanda’s shoulders relaxed, and an honest to goodness smile hovered around the corners of her mouth. “I suppose as well as they could be, when I’m constantly forced to cohabitate with an obstinate man who has the poor taste to also be a vampire.”

  “Obstinate.” I laughed. “Has Hellcat been on one of his rants again?”

  Wanda’s familiar, a cranky black cat she’d dubbed ‘Hellcat’ really enjoyed his big words. He especially enjoyed using them in his insults against anyone unfortunate enough to be in the same vicinity.

  “As if I’d listen,” Wanda said, huffing.

  Between the two of us, everything was put away in a third of the time I thought it would take me alone. I broke down the cardboard box and put it beside the door to be taken home and recycled, and turned back to Wanda fishing a thermos out of her purse.

  I cocked my head to the side, curious. “What’s that? A potion?”

  Admittedly, I was a little surprised. As far as I knew, Wanda hadn’t brewed a potion herself for a while. Usually, she just bought them from me or got Maverick to make her whatever she needed. Not to mention, the last time she’d tried to create a potion, she’d blown up her store and made an accidental shape-shifting child out of a dress mannequin. Not that Sybil wasn’t an absolutely sweet girl, but everyone had let out a silent breath of relief when Wanda had hung up her potion making tools for good.

  “Yes. It’s a potion,” Wanda deadpanned. “You mix rum, mint, lime, sugar and soda together, and presto.” She poured the thermos contents into two cups she’d dug out of her purse. “A happiness potion.”

  Wanda slid one of the cups along the counter towards me. “If anyone needs one of these, it’s you.”

  “Why do I need a happiness potion?”

  “Because you aren’t yourself.” Before I could ask her what she meant, she held up a hand to silence me. “I’ve never seen you go so long between smiles. You’re like a soda with no carbonation.”

  It was a little bit of a harsh delivery, but I could hear the concern under the words. And besides, Wanda was right. With the way things had just been piling up on me lately, I hardly felt like myself. I wasn’t normally so frazzled, feeling like I was constantly at the end of my rope.

  “I’m okay.”

  She gave me a look, and I held up my hands in surrender.

  “You want to try that again?”

  I sighed. “It’s nothing out of the ordinary—just life... just one of those times when things are a lot. You know?”

  It wasn’t very articulate. It was barely English, really. But Wanda nodded, like she understood exactly what I meant. Then she plopped a wedge of freshly cut lime onto the edge of my glass.

  “Where did you even get that from?”

  Wanda shook her head, squeezing her own lime wedge over her glass. “You’ve seen me raise the dead, and a couple limes is what impressed you? Honestly, Poppy. Priorities.”

  The mojito was fizzy and bright and just sweet enough as it danced across my tongue. It was nice, to sit down with Wanda and just be for a bit. I’d missed it. Everything had been a little bit mad for a few weeks, so we hadn’t even had a chance for the Black Cat Cocktail Club to get together. Maybe once the festival was out of the way and things had slowed down, we’d be able to meet up again.

  “Speaking of which,” Wanda said, interrupting my second sip. “How are things going with you and that mortal magician of yours—Mr. Hot and British?”

  I choked, and had to thump myself in the chest to try and clear my lungs again. Wanda sat there, sipping her cocktail and looking far too pleased with herself.

  “He’s not my Magician,” I protested weakly. “We haven’t even been out on a date, yet!”

  Wanda’s lips curled up until she looked like a cat with a canary feather sticking out of the corner of her mouth. “Yet, is it?”

  Okay, yes, I’d let that slip. A rueful laugh slipped out of me. I didn’t know why I ever tried to keep anything from Wanda. It was a miracle how someone who could pretend not to care about things could weasel so much information out of me and so quickly.

  “We might have dinner plans, tomorrow night,” I admitted, hiding my smile in my glass.

  “Well, finally,” Wanda said, tossing back the rest of her drink and pouring another. “Honestly, how long were you going to wait?”

  “Well, I wanted to be sensitive to Marty.”

  “Who?”

  I gave her a look and she gave it right back to me. “I didn’t want to parade around the fact that I was interested in another man. Not so soon after Marty and I broke up.”

  “He was never right for you, so you ended up doing you both a favor.”

  “Well, I’m not sure he would agree with that.” I paused. “Well, maybe now he would.”

  “Anyway...” Wanda continued, waving her hand. “Conversations about Marty are just as boring as the man, himself.” She took a breath. “So, getting back to Mr. Sexy and British,”

  “Mr. Hot and British,” I corrected her. “That’s what you called him earlier.”

  “Whatever,” she said and frowned. “I was getting ready to lock the two of you in a closet together until you finally sorted it out.”

  Thinking about closets just made me remember the time I’d assisted Andre with his magic show, and we’d ended up squished together in a closet as part of the act. Blood rushed up into my face then, and I buried my face in my hands to try and hide it from Wanda.

  I shouldn’t have bothered.

  “Well, well, well.” Wanda grinned at me over the rim of her cup. “Maybe there’s hope for you, yet.”

  I slid my hands to the sides of my head so I could glare at her, but it was half-hearted at best. “So, because you’re all deliriously happy in your relationship, you get to treat mine like it’s there for your amusement?”

  Wanda swirled the liquid of her drink around and around in her glass, looking at me like I was nuts. “Well, obviously.” She took a breath. “And I wouldn’t say I’m deliriously happy—such words don’t describe witches.”

  “Moderately happy then,” I laughed.

  She nodded. “And since when are you in a relationship?”

  I frowned. “I’m not.”

  “Yet, you just said ‘you get to treat my relationship like it’s there for your amusement’.” She gave me another look. “Hmm, I wonder what Freud would have to say about that.”

  “Well, lucky for all involved, Freud isn’t here to say anything about it.” I groaned and dropped my head into my arms on the counter. But I still couldn’t quite banish the happy grin from my face.

  Even with Wanda’s teasing, I felt lighter in my chest than I had in days.

  Chapter Eight

  It was amazing what a good night’s sleep could do.

  I’d spent the time after I got home waiting for Marty to drop Finn off by putting together a kind of souped-up version of Dreamtime Oil, that I called Sweet Dream Oil to try and ward off my persistent nightmares, and it had worked like a charm. I’d had lovely, dreamless sleep from the moment my head touched the pillow until my alarm had gone off in the morning.

  Everything just seemed a little brighter, and once I was in my store, caught myself humming a few times as I dusted the shelves and refilled them with a rainbow collection of newly brewed potion bottles. It just felt so good to have at least partially filled shelves again, and the ingredients to make more.

  There was also my dinner with Andre this evening, and if that had me smiling a little more than usual, well, that was okay.

  Nervous energy kept me moving, puttering around the store, checking on the potions brewing in the back room, checking my lists a hundred times just to be sure I was making the right things that people had requested.

  The door chimed as I was fixing a string of fairy lights on one of the shelves, making sure that the light hit the bottles and pillar candles just right, and I hurried back to the counter with a bright smile on my face.

  A young woman with a fall of chestnut curls partway down her back was looking around, examining the carefully labeled potions. She looked up with a smile when I greeted her.

  “Okay, this might sound kind of silly,” she said, a faint blush rising into her cheeks. “But I have a blind date tonight, and I’m really nervous about it.”

  “Oh, that’s exciting.”

  “Yeah,” she nodded. “I want it to go well, you know? Do you have anything that might…” She slapped both hands over her face as the blush got darker. “Draw love to me? Oh, God, I sound so cringe.”

  “A lot of people come here for things like that. It’s not cringe,” I tried to reassure her. “And we have a few things that might work for you. But I recommend Pink Passion.”

  I steered her towards one of the shelves, where there was a pink glass bottle, carefully stoppered, just waiting for the person who might need it.

  “Now, it’s not a love spell, or anything like that.” I didn’t do love potions, because they never ended well. “It’s gentler than that. It helps open things up to the possibilities of love. It will help you see if your date is compatible with you, and if he isn’t, it will help to attract someone who is. Just dab it on your pulse points for two weeks. One moon cycle for absolute best results.”

  “Oh, that’s perfect,” the young woman breathed. She reached for the bottle and hesitated. “Can I ask what’s in it? Sorry, I have allergies, so I’ve got to be careful.”

  Now, I was pretty protective of my recipes. They were handed down in my family since my great grandmother, and they weren’t something I shared lightly. But I also didn’t want to make someone sick because they put the wrong thing on their skin.

  I rattled off the recipe, and the girl relaxed, her smile returning full-fledged. “Oh, awesome. I’m allergic to tree nuts, but there’s nothing like that in there, right?”

  “Nope. I even used grapeseed oil as the carrier.”

  Most of my potions were the magic I put into them, but the essential oils that helped me could be hard on the skin, so I had to dilute them with neutral carrier oils so they wouldn’t cause any skin irritations.

  The young lady happily made her purchase, and then carefully opened the bottle to dab a little onto the skin at her wrists right there at the counter.

  She lifted her hand to her nose. “Oh, it even smells nice,” she said, delighted.

  After all the troubles of the past few days, and the difficult customers, it was nice to be back doing what I liked best. It made me feel like I was finally back on solid ground again.

  The young woman turned to go, but then paused, and frowned.

  “Is it supposed to feel like that?” she asked me, scratching at the thin skin of her wrists.

  Worry sparked, and I reached for her hands. “No, it’s not supposed to itch at all.”

  I caught a glance of the young woman’s skin, and sucked in a horrified breath. Her wrists were already turning red and blotchy, hives bubbling up under my gaze.

  “Oh, my goodness!” I grabbed a couple wipes, and helped her hastily clean the oil off. “I’m so sorry, that’s never happened before.”

  Watching the girl blink back tears as the redness spread up her forearm made my insides twist. Even though I’d removed the oil as best I could, the redness was still fully present and accounted for and the little lighter bumps hadn’t yet gone away.

  “I-I think I’d better go get this looked at.”

  “I’m really very sorry. Here.” I held out her money back to her, feeling like I might burst into tears at any second. She graciously accepted the refund, and hurried out of the shop, leaving the unstopped bottle on the counter.

  What on earth had happened? I’d never had a potion do that before, not to me, and certainly not to a client. I lifted up the Pink Passion bottle, eyeing it like that might give me some clue as to where I’d gone wrong. I gave the bottle a light sniff, and paused. Something was just slightly off, the smell sweeter than it should have been. Not cloying, but just a hair too much.

  My stomach sank, and I hurried into the backroom where I kept my racks of essential oils. I skimmed my fingers over each of them in turn until I found the grapeseed oil bottle I’d used just the night before. Tugging the stopper out, I gave it a cursory smell, my eyes drifting closed.

  My heart tightened painfully, and I raked my free hand back through my hair. Because my new supply company had mislabeled at least one bottle. What they’d sent me, claiming it was grapeseed, was in fact Sweet Almond.

  I sagged back against the wall, my head in my hands. That poor customer. I’d told her there were no nut oils in her purchase. There shouldn’t have been. But I hadn’t thought to check that the bottles were properly labeled, and I hadn’t noticed the difference until it was already too late.

  What if she got more than hives? What if she got an even worse allergic reaction and ended up in the emergency room? And her date—she was so excited for it. Would she have to show up all blotchy and covered in hives, or cancel altogether?

  I didn’t understand what was happening. Everything was going so wrong in my life lately. Even my potion making, the one thing I knew I was good at, the one thing I was actually proud of, and I couldn’t even do that right anymore.