Poetry in Potion Read online

  I swiftly moved past the stalls with baskets of sweets. The last thing I needed was to be tempted by sugar. Sixty extra pounds was quite enough, especially when only a fraction of them could be attributed to the actual baby.

  “Oh, I love it!” I said, spotting a large bone covered in rainbow sparkles. “Are these for pets?”

  The reedy man behind the counter offered a friendly smile. “Pets or that special werewolf in your life. We also have treats, vitamins, catnip—a broad selection for all your animal needs.”

  “Are you sure about that? Do you have anything for a demonic cat that spews fire?”

  His expression brightened. “As a matter of fact, we have a variety of treats that can temporarily alter fiery breath.” He rooted around the shelves until he found what he was looking for. “One of these white treats can turn fire into puffy clouds. The green ones result in flower petals. If you can dream it, it’s probably here.”

  “That’s incredible,” I said. “How long does the effect last?”

  “Half an hour to an hour,” he said. “Depends on the size of the animal.”

  “I’ll try a small pack of the white ones.” I giggled as I pictured Magpie opening his jaws of terror to see puffs of white cloud instead of terrifying flames.

  His smile broadened. “Excellent. You’re my first sale today. My wife will be so pleased. These are all my wife’s inventions, you see.”

  “She’s very clever,” I said.

  “One of her best qualities.” He extended a hand. “I’m Bryan Cronk. I can’t tell you how exciting it is to be in Spellbound, by the way. I still remember hearing stories about the cursed town when I was a boy. I never imagined I’d be standing in its town square.”

  “It’s definitely a special place,” I said. I paid for the treats for Magpie and tucked the small packet in my pocket.

  “You’re actually buying this garbage?” someone snarled. I turned to see a lanky werewolf with dark, curly hair and his upper lip curled in disgust.

  “What’s the problem, sir?” I asked.

  The werewolf stabbed a finger at the vitamin bottles on display, knocking over two of them. “They sell vitamins that stop shifters from shifting. You might as well force caterpillars to stay in their cocoons. No butterflies allowed in this world.”

  I took a closer look at the bottles. There were vitamins in the shape of wolves for werewolves with the slogan—swallow your inner wolf for good! I noticed more bottles with vitamins in the shape of lions for werelions, as well as about a dozen others. They even came in different flavors like cherry, mint, and burstberry.

  Bryan stood the two toppled bottles upright. “There’s no requirement that you buy them, sir. Some shifters don’t want to shift…”

  “That’s blasphemy,” the werewolf growled.

  “It’s a personal choice,” Bryan said gently. “My wife is a werecougar and she chooses not to shift. That’s why these vitamins exist. She wanted to find a way to stop turning, so she invented one.”

  “Because she’s self-loathing and racist.”

  “You’re a proud werewolf and I applaud that,” Bryan began, but the werewolf cut him off again.

  “You just want to control us,” the werewolf said. “To keep us from our true natures.”

  “I don’t want any of those things,” Bryan said. “I’m a weremuskrat and I still shift. As I said, it’s a personal choice.”

  The werewolf turned abruptly as though he planned to walk away, but then punched an entire row of bottles to the ground before stalking off. I tried to bend down to pick them up.

  “Don’t be silly,” Bryan said, hurrying to the aisle. “I’ll get those. Don’t trouble yourself.”

  “Do you know that guy?”

  “No, I think I recognize him from another stall, though.”

  “You seem remarkably calm,” I said.

  The weremuskrat shrugged. “He’s not the first shifter to object to what we sell and he won’t be the last. There are strong feelings on the subject and I don’t see that changing anytime soon.”

  “I’m sorry you have to deal with that,” I said.

  He offered a rueful smile. “Usually, my wife is here. She’s much better at handling confrontation.”

  “She couldn’t make the trip to Spellbound?”

  “Oh no, she’s here. Just running late this morning because she didn’t sleep well last night. The place we’re staying was rather noisy. Anyway, she agreed to take the early shift tomorrow if I opened today.”

  “Well, it was very nice meeting you,” I said. “Good luck with sales.”

  I continued to the next stall where potion bottles stopped me in my tracks. They were the most diverse display of potion bottles I’d ever seen. Shiny, matte, sparkling—you name it and there was a potion bottle that fit the description.

  A young woman popped up from the middle of the stall like a Jack-in-the-Box, catching me off-guard.

  A gasp escaped me. “I didn’t see you there!”

  “Care to have your fortune told?” The young woman had the kind of golden ringlets and rosy cheeks that rivaled a Disney princess. She seemed to notice my condition and her eyes bulged. “Stars and stones! I’ve frightened a pregnant woman. Oh, man. I’m taking the express train to the underworld.”

  “I’m fine,” I assured her, now that my heartbeat had returned to its normal speed. “You tell fortunes here?”

  “That’s right.” She splayed her hands on the counter. “I’m Louisa Loomis, professional potion teller.”

  “A potion teller? Do I drink the potion and then you somehow see my future?”

  “No, but I quite like that idea.” She tapped a nearby bottle filled with a green liquid. “You ask me a couple questions and I’ll choose a potion combo that might yield answers. I pour them into my special pot and voilà. Your fortune is served.”

  “Poppycock,” a voice snapped. I glanced over at Bryan’s stall to see a woman with wiry gray hair and a flat face. “It’s hogwash and you know it.”

  Louisa appeared flummoxed. “I would appreciate it if you would leave my customers alone, Claire.”

  Bryan appeared beside the woman. “You’ll have to excuse my wife. She tends to have strong opinions and no fear of expressing them.” He chuckled awkwardly.

  “On things that have nothing to do with her,” Louisa said.

  Claire pointed at Louisa. “She’s a shyster. I’ve sat next to her before and listened to her give false readings to unsuspecting customers. She’s nothing but a con artist in curls.”

  I glanced back at Louisa, who shifted uncomfortably. “No one is ever one hundred percent accurate, Claire. That's not how it works and you know it.”

  “Do you two know each other?” I asked.

  “We’ve ended up at a lot of the same locations this year,” Louisa said with a sigh. “I tried to request that I not be next to her, but since nobody wants to be next to the Cronks and I’m the new girl on the block, I keep getting stuck here.”

  “You’re wasting good coin if you hand it over to this one,” Claire insisted. “You might as well toss it into the black hole where her soul lives.”

  Yikes. Claire Cronk didn’t mince words. “I appreciate your concern, Mrs. Cronk,” I said, “but I’m an adult and if I choose to throw my money away on frivolous purchases, that’s my decision.”

  “Suit yourself,” she huffed. “I can see that most of your frivolous purchases involve food. It’s probably good to waste it on something else for a change.”

  I frowned at her. “Excuse me? What are you talking about?”

  Her focus shifted to my midsection. “I think it’s obvious.”

  I gaped at her. Was she serious? “I’m eating for two.”

  “More like eating to become two,” Claire said.

  “Claire,” her husband said gently. “She’s with child. She’s literally eating for two.”

  Instead of appearing embarrassed, Claire simply scowled and turned away. What a charmer.
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  “I have a quiet area off to the side, if you’re still interested,” Louisa said. “I don’t blame you if you want to go, though.”

  Ugh. I couldn’t leave now. I didn’t want Claire to think she’d successfully chased me away. “I’d love to have a reading.”

  Louisa seemed so relieved that I was glad I opted to stay. She motioned for me to come around to the other side of the stall where a lower counter was set up. “I love reading for pregnant women. So much possibility. A life only on the cusp of beginning.”

  “Are you reading for me or the baby?” I teased.

  “That’s really up to you.”

  “So, what do I need to do?”

  Louisa clasped her hands in front of her. “First, I need you to ask a question and then I’ll mix the appropriate potions into the bowl and interpret what I see for you.”

  “Sort of like reading tea leaves,” I said. A little different from Agnes and her card reading, though. I never knew what to expect when the old witch flipped over the cards. Each one seemed to suggest imminent death and destruction.

  Louisa inclined her head toward my stomach. “I imagine you want to know something about your baby, even if it’s your reading.” She wore a hint of a smile.

  She had no idea. Daniel and I had speculated endlessly about the possibilities. Would this baby be an angel or a sorceress or some kind of strange hybrid with horns and glowing red eyes? We’d find out soon enough, but a little glimpse would surely put me at ease.

  “Will my baby be healthy?” I asked.

  Louisa cocked her head. “Really? That’s your question?”

  I cradled my stomach. “I think all mothers want reassurance about that.”

  “Do you have any reason to think your baby won’t be healthy?”

  “No,” I said slowly. “The healer says everything is great.”

  “Then let’s entertain a different question. Something fun,” Louisa said.

  I relaxed my shoulders. Fun would be a nice change when I was constantly plagued by worry. “Okay, let’s go for it. Will my baby have magic powers?”

  “Not a guarantee, huh?” Louisa asked. “I know that feeling.” She chose two potion bottles from her inventory and poured half a cup of each into a black ceramic bowl in the shape of a witch’s hat.

  I perked up. “You do?”

  She nodded. “My father’s a wizard, but my mother’s a nymph.” She stirred the contents with a silver ladle and peered at the results. “Hmm. Interesting.”

  “What do you see?” I leaned over the bowl for a better view. I saw nothing except swirls of color. Pretty albeit uninformative. Then again, I wasn’t a potion teller.

  “This baby will have magic,” she said. “See that pop of yellow light there.” She pointed. “That’s a sign of strong magic.”

  “Ha!” came Claire’s voice from the neighboring stall.

  I ignored the werecougar and focused on Louisa. “Is it possible to specify the type of magic?”

  Louisa’s brow creased. “You mean good versus evil?”

  “No, although that would be good to know, too. I just mean whether it’s sorceress magic or celestial magic…That sort of distinction.”

  “Not evil,” Louisa said. “I can tell you that much with certainty.”

  I felt a surge of relief. “Any sign of a halo or wings?”

  Louisa studied the potions. “Not that I can see.”

  “Horns?”

  Louisa’s head jerked up. “Is your husband a minotaur?”

  “No, it’s just that we might have horns in the family.” Might being the optimum word. I had no idea what my biological father looked like.

  “I don’t see any horns,” Louisa said.

  Claire marched over to us. “Don’t believe a word she says.”

  “Why don’t you mind your own stall and leave mine alone?” Louisa said. “Oh, that’s right. You can’t because you scare away all your potential customers with your bad attitude.”

  Claire glared at her. “Don’t try to use me as a diversion from your lies.”

  Louisa nibbled on a fingernail. “How about I do a reading for you? On the house. Then you can decide whether I’m really a phony.”

  Uh oh. It was like a psychic throwdown.

  “Deal,” Claire said. She practically pushed me out of the way to stand in front of the low counter.

  Louisa retrieved a clean bowl from the shelf. “What’s your question?”

  “I’ll ask a general one,” Claire said. “Make it nice and easy for you. What does my future hold?”

  Louisa chose two bottles and mixed half a cup of each into the bowl. She stirred and observed the results. “Oh,” she said softly.

  “What is it?” Claire smirked. “You see me wealthy beyond my wildest dreams?”

  Louisa met her smug gaze. “No, Claire. I see nothing at all.” She sucked in a breath. “According to this, you have no future.”

  Chapter Three

  I sat in the waiting area of the healer’s clinic the next morning, flipping through a magazine and trying to ignore the relentless display of gymnastics taking place inside my stomach right now.

  “Easy there, dance party,” I said soothingly. “Save your best moves until you’ve vacated the womb.”

  As I glanced around the room, I noticed there were more patients than usual, especially given the early hour. I’d deliberately scheduled my appointment for the moment the clinic opened so that I could be in and out quickly. That clearly wasn’t going to happen today. Some patients came in clutching buckets to their chests and I wondered whether there was an epidemic I needed to be worried about.

  A familiar elf dragged himself into the clinic, his pallor practically green.

  “Quinty?” I said. “What’s the matter? You look awful.”

  The elf lumbered over and sat beside me. “I feel even worse. I woke up in the night feeling like I was on death’s door. Then I spent the next couple hours praying to the porcelain god. Thankfully, I invented a driverless jalopy and was able to shuttle myself here this morning.”

  “There must be something going around,” said the pixie seated across from us. She looked as unwell as Quinty. Even her wings were still. It was rare to see a pixie’s wings at rest.

  “Same symptoms?” I asked.

  The pixie nodded and her hand moved to rest on her stomach as though trying to keep it calm. “There’s a backlog of patients because of the new healer. Now isn’t the ideal time for an outbreak, but it’s not like we had a choice.”

  I scooted to the other side of my chair, away from Quinty. I grew wary of sitting in a room full of infected paranormals and breathing the same air. What if it was infectious? My baby and I were extremely vulnerable right now.

  “I’m sure Boyd will be able to keep the new healer moving along,” I said in an effort to remain upbeat.

  The pixie frowned. “Oh, my. Haven’t you heard? Boyd isn’t here.”

  “Well, I’m sure someone has sent him a message that he’s needed,” I replied. “He only lives a few minutes away.”

  “No, dear,” the pixie said. “I mean he can’t come in. He’s left town.”

  My hands clenched. “I don’t understand. I saw him two weeks ago during my last appointment. Where is he?”

  The pixie lowered her voice. “From what I’ve heard, he met a wereferret who was here visiting long-lost relatives. She had an accident and was brought into the clinic. Seems they fell in love right here and he agreed to move to her hometown to court her properly.”

  I sat in stunned silence for a moment. “How could he do that to everyone? The town relies on him. I rely on him.” And not a word to anyone? To us?

  “He said he’d been waiting his whole life to meet someone like her and he wasn’t going to waste another minute,” the pixie said.

  On the one hand, it was inspiring. On the other hand—who on earth was going to help me deliver this baby? What if it wasn’t a normal birth? I wasn’t sure that I trusted that
some druid fresh out of healing school was up to the task.

  “Whoever the new healer is,” Quinty began, “I hope they hurry up because I don’t feel so hot.”

  Although I was no stranger to puke, I also didn’t do well at the sight of it. It had a tendency to trigger my gag reflex.

  I glanced at the receptionist. “How are we doing back there?” I called.

  The receptionist gave me a guilty look and I knew things were precarious.

  “I guess you’re here for the baby,” Quinty said, struggling to make normal conversation. “The big guy couldn't make it?”

  “Daniel came to the last one,” I said. “With the World Market this week, he’s up to his eyeballs in work.”

  “Speaking of the market, I’m wondering if something I ate there yesterday didn’t agree with me,” the pixie said. “I ate so much that I probably brought this upon myself.”

  Quinty eyed her closely. “I ate at the market yesterday, too. What did you have?”

  The pixie grimaced. “I’m not sure that I’m up to talking about food right now, but I’ll give it a whirl. I tried the frozen Goddess Bounty pops, something called funnel cake that was amazing, a kebab, and fizzy blood. That one tasted like a metal spoon sprinkled in a fruit smoothie.”

  “Why would you try blood?” I asked. “You’re not a vampire.”

  The pixie shrugged her tiny shoulders. “I went a little overboard. Once I started trying new things, I couldn’t seem to stop myself. Why I thought blackbird pie sounded appealing, I have no idea.”

  Quinty’s greenish hue intensified. “Hang on. I had the blackbird pie, too.”

  “Did you have any of the other things she mentioned?” I asked.

  Quincy shook his head. “I only had the blackbird pie and a pint of diamond ale from the dwarf mines. It was too rare to pass up.”

  A lump formed in my stomach. “Excuse me, everyone,” I said loudly. “Could I please get a show of hands? Who here sampled the blackbird pie at the World Market?”

  Five hands rose in the air, including Quinty and the pixie. Ugh. I was going to have to tell Daniel as soon as possible. The pies would need to be thrown away before anyone else fell ill.