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2: Puking Cotton Candy

I sleep most of the day away and arrive at the shop for another night shift. The sun is just starting to set when I walk through the doors. Home sweet away-from-home, Home. That annoying bell rings for seconds after the door closes. If there was one thing I could change about this place, it would be that bell.

“Tea?” Monty offers as I approach the front counter. She leans leisurely against the corner, floral tea cup in hand. It clashes against her henna tattooed hand, but matches perfectly with her bright purple hair.

She waves her mug under my nose. The smell is so strong that I choke on the fumes, but it works. I perk up a little more.

“No thanks. I would rather have this job kill me than your tea.” I joke.

“Ha. Ha.” Her heavily shadowed eyes narrow in my direction and her dark red lips don’t smile at my humor.

“You know who you could offer your tea to?”

“And who would that be?” She gives me a stern look, because she knows that I’m not giving the recommendation in faith of her tea.

“Marcus. Although if he doesn’t die from it he’ll be even more pissed with you.”

She gives me an all knowing look. Uh huh, she knew exactly what she was doing when she talked to that girl.

“It’s a big accomplishment getting on the wrong side of the biggest pack in town. It’s also the easiest and I’m surprised it took you this long.” I tease.

She keeps her mouth shut and her tea away from me after that. We each take our turn helping oblivious humans that come and go from the shop. The shop doesn’t really get interesting until the sun goes down and the denizens come out. But, then a petite girl in a gown of gold floats through the front doors heading straight to the service counter, a smile tugs at my tired lips.

My bestie, who happens to be human, comes to a stop in front of me. Her expensive clothes stick out like a sore thumb in the rundown magic shop. “Don’t you look all fancy? Do you have a lunch date with some stranger I don’t know about? Is your mother trying to marry you off again?” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder, “I’m sure Monty can give you some awful advice before you go. Maybe Prince Charming will even make an appearance at the shop and threaten our lives.”

“Shut it Hazel. I just read the cards.”

Avery’s questioning crystal blue eyes look between Monty and myself. “Okay, I missed something didn’t I?”

“Well, the cards are crap.” I shout as my hands fly through the air. “Can they at least tell you something that will save your own ass next time? You’re lucky it was Caleb that showed up last night and not Marcus. I could be dead.”

“Yyyuuuuup, definitely missed something.” Avery mumbles. She fumbles with her hair tucking it behind one ear.

Avery is one of very few humans that know of the existence of denizens. Vampires, werewolves, witches. I don’t trust many people with my secrets, but Avery knows them all. And she also knows a few other’s secrets too. “She gave some atrocious advice apparently to some wolf girl who turns out to be mated to the alpha. And in Caleb’s words, no one refuses Marcus.”

“And if I’m correct you can never seem to refuse Caleb.” Avery hums.

“Now it’s your turn to shut it” I snap, but my cheeks become flushed at her words. “And this isn’t about me or Caleb,” I say in one quick breath, the words blending together. “This is about you and whatever his name is.”

“Stubborn that one is.” Monty grumbles as she makes her way back up toward the counter.

“And apparently, I still get suckered into things.” I ignore Monty and turn my attention back to Avery. “You never said what brings you here. Are you in need of a little something something to get out of that lunch date? I can make you puke cotton candy. Well…it’ll be the color of cotton candy and smell like it, but it won’t taste like cotton candy. For some reason I can’t seem to get that part right...I’m close though.”

“And who tests that out? The tasting part?”

“Unsuspecting victims that annoy me.” My finger jabs in the air as I have an ah ha moment. “Marcus would be the perfect candidate.”

“And what is the point of one puking cotton candy?” Avery questions me still not on board with it.

“Uh, to deter rich pretty boys that one’s mother sets them up with. It lets you be sick, but not gross sick. You want to turn him away, but not repulse the poor boy.”

Her little fairy giggle makes her seem younger than she is and more innocent, which she is not. “That’s what you do with your day? Make up concoctions such as puking cotton candy?”

“Among other things. It’s not like I have anything else to do.”

“Actually, you do.” Monty barges in on the conversation. “There’s a human over there that wants bottled euphoria.”

“Is that so?” That’s the eleventh one this week. The perks of social media between humans is good for business.

“Yeah, so go make it for the man.” Monty orders. The one thing she’s good at, ordering people around...and offering advice that can get you killed.

“Gots to go be witchy. You go be friendly. I’ll talk to you later.” I give her a quick hug before we go our separate ways.

I find the guy loitering around the back corner. “So you’re the one that wants some bottled euphoria?” He nods at me. “Well, before I brew it up, just know it only has a shelf life of three days. Do you still want it?”

“Yeah. It’s for a party tomorrow night.” He stands with his head toward the ground unable to make eye contact with me. Scared or ashamed even though he is the one seeking something only I can give him. No doubt he’s heard rumors of the magic this shop wields. Too much for his little human brain to handle.

“Monty can help you up front and I’ll whip it up. It’ll only be a few minutes.” I walk through the beaded curtain to my personal room to secretly brew the potion leaving the young man with Monty.

The room isn’t that big. A hand-me-down wooden table in the center takes up most of the space. Shelves and cabinets line three of the walls which are filled with my personal stash of various ingredients. Several plants and succulents are scattered on any available flat, open surface. Sadly, being the youngest at Mystic Moon I got duped into the room without a window and my plants hate me for it.

It doesn’t take much to make the concoction. A little of this, a little of that. Bring it to a boil and strain it. One of the first potions I learned to make growing up. I examine the small vial. The silver liquid swirls around as if it has been shook. It’s mesmerizing and dangerous.

Approaching the counter to stand beside Monty I hold the vial outwards. “Here we are, one bottle of Euphoria. It should impress all the girls.” I wink at him and he hurries out.

“Here’s your bonus.” Monty turns toward me with a twenty dollar bill in her hand, smile on her face. “I charged him double because the fear that rolled off of him was ridiculous.” She laughs as she walks to the two young women that just enter the shop. Two of her regulars.

I hang out at the counter helping customers here and there. Mostly I just stare at the clock that little slow moving second hand taunts me. It’s just past midnight and I have another four hours to go before closing time.

I’m in deep scrolling through Instagram, unaware of anything other than internally laughing at knock off witches posting selfies hashtagged with witchbitch.

“Ashton.” My name is faint, lost in the background of my thoughts. Then fingers snap in my face. “Ashton.” This time my name is much louder and my eyes draw up to stare at Gretchen with one hand still hovering in the air and the other on her hip. “Having fun?”

I pocket my phone and give her a shy smile. Gretchen may be the boss, but she’s more like a mother to Monty and I even though she’s only a few years older than me. “I didn’t think you were coming in today.”

“I have a pop up appointment.”

“Cool.” The awkwardness that thickens between us is suffocating. “I wouldn’t happen to be able to get off early...could I?”

“Actually.” Her words bring excitement to my tired bones. “I need you to visit Georgio.” And they bring me crashing down.

“What?” I shout a little too loud as a few customers' necks snap in my direction.

“He fancies you and I’m in need of some dead man’s toes for my spellwork tonight.”

In other words, her pop up appointment is her small coven coming to pawn off supplies from her shop. I take a deep, long, slow breath. I hate Georgio. He’s a corpse that some necromancer brought to life, who lives in the same crypt he was buried in. Dead man’s toes aren’t the only things he collects from other corpses.

“You owe me.”

“A day off of your choosing.”

“Deal.” I step out from behind the counter stopping short. “You do have payment, right? Because I’m not offering payment again.” A shiver so intense shakes my body as the memory rushes back. A little piece of me for a little piece of someone else. Gross.

“Yes,” she hands me a small velvet pouch. I tug at the strings to take a peek inside but it’s stuck shut, magically sealed. “Not for you.” She teases.

“Um-huh.” I toss the pouch in my purse and head for the door. “I’ll be back.” Hopefully, I mutter under my breath.

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