Samhain (Matilda Kavanagh Book 2) (4 page)

Chapter 3

I was barefoot in my kitchen, standing on my counter and digging through cabinets, while two copper pots boiled away on the stove. I sneezed violently, banging my head on a shelf as I tried to extract myself from the cupboard.

“Gods, I really gotta dust up here sometime.” I rubbed the back of my head with one hand and gripped the canister I had been searching for with the other.

Artemis was sitting close enough to me to wrap his fluffy black tail around my ankles, and I nearly killed myself jumping down, trying not to knock him over as I did so.

“Oh, you’re fine, Your Majesty, you’re not in the way or anything.” I flicked a finger at him, a spark of power catching his pointy ear. He spat and hissed at me before jumping to the far counter, away from me and my stove. “Jerkface.”

I unscrewed the lid of the canister, exposing the white powdered marjoram. I shook the canister gently, trying to gauge just how much was inside. I wasn’t sure it was enough to fill all of my orders. Digging through my drawers, I found my set of ceramic measuring spoons. I scooped out the appropriate amount of the powder, which was essential for potions of protection against jinxes. On the last spoonful, I heard the spoon scraping the bottom of the canister; I would be lucky to get one more batch out of it.

Poking at the potion with my big ceramic spoon, I shifted the bamboo shoots around. It looked like I was making some kind of noodle soup, but it definitely didn’t smell like noodle soup. Between the steam from the anti-jinx solution, the healing potion, and the anti-love potion next to it, my hair was starting to kink. I touched the stack of orders on the counter lovingly. I hadn’t had that many standing orders in a very long time. I pushed open the kitchen window, letting the steam out and breathing in the fresh air. Artemis promptly jumped onto the sill, his tail falling out of the window as he sat and stared at the cityscape.

“All right, let’s get these puppies bottled,” I said, earning an ear flick from the smush-faced cat. “Whatever, dude.”

I grabbed three bottles with each hand from the cabinet and set them as gently as possible on the tiled countertop. I was just filling the third bottle with the anti-jinx solution when I heard a knock at the door. I checked the clock: one o’clock in the morning. Not too late, but not too early either. The last time I’d opened the door to an unexpected caller, it had been a troll whose greed had nearly cost me my life. Staring at the stack of orders and the promise of twenty-five hundred dollars on the horizon, I knew I didn’t need any more business just then. But the fear of running out of money always plagued me, and I couldn’t ignore the second knock.

I set the eyedropper I was using to portion out the potion on a folded napkin, and wiped my hands on a tea towel before going to the door. Though it was technically the middle of my day, I’d already changed into my pajamas to stay in for the rest of the night. My baggy flannel bottoms were ragged at the cuffs, and my oversized, black concert T-shirt hid what little figure I had. All in all, I looked like a child up past her bedtime. I hoped whoever was knocking was someone I already knew, because this wasn’t the best first impression. I didn’t even have on any makeup.

I had to stand on my tiptoes to see out the peephole. On the other side of the door was a girl. If I had to guess, I would’ve said she was human, because she had no defining characteristic that said she was anything else. No pointy ears, no glowing eyes of some bizarre color, no shimmer of magic, but she could just as easily have been a witch like me. It wasn’t always so easy to tell without reading her aura.

“Yes?” I asked when I’d opened the door as far as the security chain would allow.

She was a sweet-faced thing, probably no older than eighteen. She had naturally curling brown hair with honey highlights that twisted through the curls. Her eyes were wide and bright with a thick fringe of black eyelashes that probably never needed a coat of mascara. She was within an inch of my height, and when her eyes met mine, she smiled. It was an easy, happy smile. I was almost compelled to smile back. I wondered if she was a nymph of some sort.

“Can I help you?” I asked, refusing to be sucked into her doe-eyed look.

“I hope so.” She rocked forward on her toes for a moment. She was clutching her shoulder bag strap, holding it close to her chest. “I was looking for a witch. I was told I could find one here?”

“By whom?” I asked, arching one brow at her.

She wasn’t fazed by my deadpan tone. “Some girls at my school.” Her voice pitched hopefully.

It wasn’t really an answer, but around Valentine’s Day and Halloween, I was often visited by humans, mostly girls, looking for spells. At Valentine’s Day, they always wanted love spells or beauty potions, and Halloween meant their mean streaks came out and they wanted hexes or jinxes. Nothing I brewed was lethal, so I happily took their money, and they took the vials of promised love or vengeance.

“And what do you need a witch for at this hour of night?” I gripped the door as I leaned against it, watching her face for any tell.

She was careful to keep her face as calm and innocent as possible. “I’m sorry, I thought witches kept night hours. Am I bothering you?” She blinked those big brown eyes, and a tiny wrinkle of worry creased her brow.

“We do, and yes, you are, but that’s not my question. It’s a Wednesday night at one o’clock in the morning; don’t you have school in, like, seven hours? Wouldn’t your parents be worried about you?”

“Oh yes,” she said, her face changing with her new smile. It was a mix of excitement and fear, as if this was the most rebellious thing she’d ever done. Her fingers flexed around the strap of her bag as she leaned closer. “Mother would just freak if she finds out I’m not in bed.”

“Awesome,” I said with a shake of my head. “So what do you want?”

“Well…” She licked her lips and glanced up and down the hall as if afraid someone would hear her. “There’s this…”

“Yes?” I prompted.

“He’s, ah…” She closed her mouth, and that bright, open joy finally faltered.

“Oh.” I nodded as I finally understood. “‘He,’ huh? Yeah, all right, c’mon in.” I closed the door to release the security chain and let her in.

“Thank you,” she gushed as she rushed inside. She stopped a foot away from the door and turned slowly on her toe, taking in my apartment. Her eyes lingered on the overflowing bookshelf beside the door.

“Matilda,” I said, holding out my hand.

She pulled her eyes away from the shelves and blinked at me as if she wasn’t sure she’d heard me for a moment. “Oh!” She recovered quickly to take my hand. She shook it and withdrew her hand as quickly as possible. “Jane.”

“Jane?” I asked, squinting at her. “Like Jane Doe?”

“N-no,” she stammered, the first time her composure faltered.

“It’s fine,” I said with a wave. “Plenty of humans prefer to use fake names. Most are a little more creative than that, but it doesn’t really matter to me.”

Jane scuffed her toe on the floor, catching the edge of my area rug. She was wearing black dress shoes—flats, not heels—and black tights under a gray skirt that almost reached her knees. Her black jacket was short with a curved collar that reminded me of something a little girl would wear. It almost looked as though she was ready for a funeral, while I looked as though I was ready for bed.

“Can I take your jacket?” I knew she would refuse before she even shook her head. “Suit yourself.” I shrugged and turned for the kitchen, expecting her to follow me. At the stove, I picked up the eyedropper and went back to filling vials.

Jane followed me. She stopped at the edge of the counter, her brown eyes wide again as she watched me. Artemis growled from his perch. I glanced over my shoulder at him, my hand hovering over the pot. The sound was a low rumble, warning and anger all at once. His yellow eyes flicked to mine before he jumped off the window sill and stalked to the back of the kitchen, putting distance between him and my unexpected visitor.

“What a cute cat,” Jane said.

“Doesn’t seem to think the same of you,” I said casually, and turned my attention back to the eyedropper.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“What is it you wanted from a witch tonight, Jane?” I hit the syllable of her fake name hard, ignoring her question. “A love potion?”

“I, uh,” she stammered again.

When I glanced at her as I corked the vials, I saw a bright red flush had crept up her neck and flooded her cheeks. “It’s okay, you know?” I said. “You’re not the first and certainly won’t be the last, though most human girls come around for love spells in January and February, not October.”

“Well, it’s just that—” She swallowed hard. Her face was becoming so red, I expected to see steam shoot out of her ears. She fought with the buttons at her throat, opening her jacket as if she was having trouble breathing.

I caught the glint of gold at her throat. She was wearing a simple cross on a delicate chain. Her fingers moved over the charm, almost absentmindedly, as her eyes flittered around the room.

“Tell you what, go have a seat in the living room, and I’ll bring you some tea,” I said as I corked the last anti-jinx vial. I glanced at the healing potion and the anti-love potion. I needed to get those into corked bottles as well, but with a customer, they would have to wait. “You can catch your breath, and we can have a little talk about what you need.”

Jane blinked, looking as though she was having trouble keeping up with my words. After a moment, she nodded and turned to rush out of the kitchen. I leaned around the edge of the kitchen wall to make sure she actually sat down. When she was on the couch, her back as straight as a pole, I turned back to the kitchen. I wasn’t sure what she was so pent up about, whether she was raised in a very religious home or if she was afraid I was going to bake her into a pie and eat her, but I had the niggling feeling that I wanted her out of my home as quickly as possible.

I turned the burner on under the kettle, listening to the click-click-click of the ignition before the flames took. The stove was already hot with the three spelling pots, so I knew the water in the kettle would boil fast. I set a cup with a tea bag on a tray, along with a plate of stale cookies, before I pulled a pre-mixed love potion and a finger stick out of the cabinet. I placed both on the tray as well.

The kettle wasn’t whistling, but I saw a thin trail of steam lifting from the spout, telling me it was hot enough. When the cup was full and tea stained the clear water, I added one small drop of a calming draught and stirred it in. It wasn’t abnormal for a human to be nervous in my apartment, but if she was this nervous, she may not really want the potion she’d come for. Maybe if she were calmer, she’d be able to think clearly.

“Here we go!” I called, trying to sound cheerful as I carried the tray into the living room.

Jane was sitting exactly the same way: straight back, eyes forward. It was a little creepy. I set the tray on the coffee table in front of her, keeping my eyes on her the whole time. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap, and she smiled at me, pretending to be at ease.

“Thank you,” she said, reaching for the cup. She held it but didn’t drink.

I took one of the stale cookies and sat in my customary chair to the side of the couch, tucking my feet up under me. Biting into the cookie, I watched Jane, waiting for her to take a sip of the tea. “So, love potions are a hundred.” I dusted crumbs off my shirt.

Jane glanced at the tray on the table and then back at me. “How do they work?” Her voice was low, as if afraid someone would hear her.

“Well, we’ll prick your finger with that stick there.” I nodded to the tiny blue plastic thing next to the vial. “You’ll add a couple drops of your blood to the potion, and then you’ll give it to the person you want to spell. They’ll drink it, and the spell will work its magic.”

“So it’s blood magic,” Jane whispered, her eyes boring into the glass vial filled with soft pink potion.

“No, not really,” I said with a grimace. “Blood magic really means violence and pain and sacrifice. We’re not sacrificing anything here.”

“But you need my blood to make it work.” Jane scooted to the edge of the couch and set her cup on the table. She balled her hands into fists on her knees as she stared at me with those impossibly large eyes.

“Well, sure.” I swallowed the last bite of the cookie, wishing it was one of Ronnie’s fresh ones. “If you give someone a potion without adding a bit of your essence, they’ll just fall for whoever they first look at. I mean, you wouldn’t want to go to the trouble of giving someone a love potion just to have them accidently glance past you and see your hundred-year-old great aunt and fall head over heels for her, right? So you add your essence to the potion, and you guarantee that they fall for you, whether or not you’re there to see them drink the potion.”

“Do you do blood magic?” Jane asked.

The question took me by surprise, and I couldn’t keep the shock off my face. Jane was watching me, a thin sheen of sweat forming on her forehead. The tip of her pink tongue darted out to moisten her lips, and her nostrils flared slightly.

“No,” I said, my voice firm. “I do not. If that is what you came looking for, then I’m sorry, you’ve wasted the trip.” I placed my feet on the floor and stood. “I think it’s time you got back home. It’s very late.”

Jane opened her mouth, but closed it before she said anything. She stood, her eyes on my face as she gripped the strap of her bag close to her chest again. The collar of her jacket opened, exposing the cross at her throat again. I forced myself to breathe normally. I held out a hand, directing her toward the door. Her eyes flicked to my hand and back up. The muscle in her jaw worked as she ground her teeth. She was fighting some internal struggle, and I worried she would lose the battle and do whatever stupid thing she was thinking of.

“You said it was a hundred?” she asked, her voice catching in the middle.

“That’s right,” I said with a nod, letting my hand drop.

Jane lowered her eyes and opened her bag, digging inside it. I leaned over the tray to pick up the finger stick. Pinching it, I broke the seal.