haven hollow 00 - 01 to 10, page 28
And this caused me untold amusement.
I thought my little doll was a cute abomination, but that was probably the creator in me talking. Regardless, I figured my creature had to have a name, so I called him Acmonides. With a kiss on its head, I informed my little monstrosity that it would find its forever home with Rowe and I warned it never to return to my side of the duplex, or its magic would be deadened and that would be the end of it.
“And while you are living with your new master,” I started with a broad smile. “I want you to take every opportunity to stalk him, hide his belongings, and frighten him, but make sure you are never caught.”
Acmonides hung its head as if saddened at the prospect of being separated from me, but then it nodded and disappeared into the dusty confines of Rowe’s house, where I hoped it would scare the fangs off the bastard.
As dusk began to descend, I packed up my sleeping bag, pillow and toiletries and ran them out to the Vega. Then, freshly drenched in rain, I closed the front door behind me and stomped into my bedroom as I took a deep breath and faced the next bit of business I wouldn’t enjoy. Because my fabrics and the items I’d already created had gone missing, I had no choice but to ferret through my own wardrobe in hopes of finding a few pieces I could bear to part with. That was a tall order, but using the six month rule (get rid of anything in your closet you haven’t worn in the last six months,) I found myself with quite a few clothing and shoe options.
Throwing everything into two duffel bags, all the while ignoring Hellcat’s barrage of questions, I braved the rain again and tossed the two duffel bags into the passenger seat. Then I hurriedly opened my door, and seating myself, turned on the engine. I took a deep breath as I noticed the sun dipping out of existence beyond the cemetery. Everything was now lit in midnight blue, before darkness would take over completely. Not wanting to face what would inevitably be a very grumpy vampire, I started for Main Street and Haven Hollow’s city center.
***
Once unlocking my shop, I turned on the light switch and was pleased to find the power was on. The large crystal chandelier overhead reflected prisms of color all around the brick walls of the room and the dark ebony of the hardwood floors which matched those from my duplex. There were floor to ceiling windows in the front of the store and noticing the charcoal gray velvet drapes that hung alongside them, I pulled them closed. I didn’t need any nosy pedestrians taking interest in the store just yet.
I carried the duffel bags, sleeping bag and pillow to the rear of the store, depositing them in the storage area which was separated from the showroom by a large wooden door that was painted shiny black. Then I unpacked everything from the Vega’s trunk (items which were all meant for my store) before closing and locking the front door again.
That was when I took a deep breath and a gander around the place. I found the space somewhat small, but the unfinished ceiling was incredibly tall, giving it an industrial sort of look that was offset by the elegant moldings of the baseboards, the brick walls and the ebony hardwood floors. The style was absolutely in keeping with my own, just like I’d experienced in the duplex. One thing I could say for Rowe—he did have good taste.
That was about all I could say for him.
Regardless, the store would certainly do for the big plans I had in mind. It just needed a quick clean, but that was the easy part. Having already packed cleaning supplies, I spent the next few hours sweeping, mopping the hardwood floors, dusting the cobwebs from all the corners of the brick walls, cleaning the windows and the mirror in the bathroom, and setting up three metal clothing racks that would take center stage in the shop. Even though I now had very little to put on them…
After I’d finished cleaning, I spent the rest of the evening lying on the floor, propped up on my elbows, with pen and paper as I worked up a portfolio: clothing I could theoretically craft if I ever found my fabrics.
Getting exhausted, I retired to the back room of the shop where I’d set up my sleeping area. Crawling into the sleeping bag, I found myself immediately uncomfortable. The insulation did little to help ward against the cold of the floor or the hardness. So, I whipped up a little spell and enchanted the sleeping bag so it felt like I was resting on a cloud, and then I got a decent night’s sleep.
***
In the morning, I awoke feeling happier than I had in a long time. After having a visionary dream in which I saw myself opening ‘Wanda’s Witchery’ and experiencing an influx of happy and wealthy patrons, I’d decided to open my shop!
Thus, ‘Wanda’s Witchery’ opened without fanfare.
Originally I’d planned to take a week to prepare a variety of show pieces, hang a few banners, and arrange for some advertisements to run in whatever rag Haven Hollow called a newspaper. But between the truck crash, and my missing materials, I couldn’t sink enough money into the place to make it a grand opening. Instead, I set up the three mannequins I’d bought off Craigslist—one at the entry of the store and the other two in the front windows.
I’d have to wait on getting a sign created until I sold a few pieces of clothing, and then that would be the first item on my list… because what was a store without a sign?
But, first, it was time to display my goods…
Holding up a slinky black dress from Burberry, I fitted it over the mannequin in the entry, then I fixed the next mannequin in a short, business casual chocolate-brown skirt from Michael Kors and a navy blazer from Givenchy. Between the two mannequins in the front of the windows, I placed a pair of tall, black leather boots by Bill Blass, red stilettos by Charles David and some white flats by Jimmy Choo.
I outfitted the final mannequin in a skimpy sky-blue lace bra and matching panties by Agent Provocateur that still had the tags on them. I’d purchased them years ago, but then they’d somehow wound up in one of my hat boxes, and I’d forgotten about them.
Speaking of hats, I had quite a few of those sitting on their boxes, which I positioned along one wall of the store, placing a few Coach, Chloe and Burberry purses between them.
All of the items I’d taken from my own collection were previously enchanted, requiring no further work on my part. The black dress was designed to augment a woman’s natural beauty and automatically drew the eye away from problem areas. The blazer and skirt were spelled for confidence and success. The lingerie’s enchantments boosted one’s self-confidence.
The purses were all bespelled for good luck and attracted money. Two of the hats were charmed with memory potions, and the other two were enchanted with peace and tranquility potions. The black boots were bewitched to make the legs appear longer, the red stilettos were enchanted with a desire potion, and the white flats were bespelled to help make dreams come true.
I hung the remaining few items I’d brought with me on one of the racks and sighed when I realized how sparse everything looked. Well, there was nothing to be done about it now.
After affixing a flashing neon ‘open’ sign to one corner of my shop window, I pulled back the velvet drapes, propped open the front door and waited for my first customers.
It wasn’t long before a few people wandered in, but they quickly turned around with disdainful expressions when they didn’t find racks full of clothing to peruse. I explained that one of my shipments was late, but no one seemed to care.
“You thought you’d just leave me by myself in that hovel while you had all the fun here?”
Hellcat walked through the door and then plopped his furry little butt on the floor in front of my feet as he glared up at me.
I returned the glare. “How did you get here?”
“I followed your scent.”
“How did you get out of the duplex?”
“Have you forgotten your affinity for leaving windows open?”
“Ugh,” I grumbled.
“Ugh, yourself,” he said and looked around. “Did you sell everything already? All the racks are bare.”
“Ha!” I answered and shook my head, feeling even more sorry for myself. “Hardly.”
“Then where’s all your product?”
I glared at him. “Don’t you remember me freaking out about all my fabrics going missing?”
“Oh, right. I must admit, I wasn’t paying much attention, which was just as well, as it was quite a boring conversation.” He looked around the room and then back at me. “It looks completely uninviting in here and you appear even more so.”
“Well, that didn’t stop you from coming in, did it?”
“Ha-ha,” he answered as he stood up and started walking over to the mannequins. “No one is going to realize any of this stuff is bewitched.”
“Unless I tell them,” I nearly interrupted.
“And since when do you like to engage with anyone?” he asked as he looked back at me.
“Since never.”
“Exactly. You should write up signs for each article of clothing and explain what they are supposed to do and how much each costs,” he continued as he then sat down and started licking his front paw.
“Hmm, actually, that’s not a bad idea,” I said as I reached for my pad of paper and started writing up descriptions of everything that was for sale. “And I can attach each write-up with a sewing pin,” I added with a smile, but Hellcat was more interested in cleaning himself.
After I’d pinned descriptions and prices on each item, I got my first buyer—a homely looking woman in her late sixties who, spotting Hellcat from outside, came in to pet him. When he appeared to be quite indignant with her advances and then hissed at her, she feigned interest in my collection, until she started reading the descriptions and then her interest was genuine.
“How do the items work?” she wanted to know.
I explained I was a witch, something she laughed off, but even so, she seemed overly interested in one of my hats. Apparently she was suffering from memory loss. I didn’t get any sort of magical reading from her, so I figured she was human. After another few minutes, she’d paid in cash for the hat and I was packaging it up—in a sheet of tissue paper and a brown paper bag.
Another hour passed and I got two more sales—sisters who wanted variants of the lingerie in the window. One wanted a lace bra and pantie set bespelled to make her figure appear slimmer and the other wanted a red teddy charmed with Enchantress Oil, which would tempt and taunt any man within the vicinity of the teddy.
“When it comes to love, they’re going to need all the help they can get,” Hellcat muttered as he found a sunny spot and curled up in it. Good thing neither of the sisters could understand him—they, too, were humans.
I took their names, numbers, measurements and twenty percent down payments and I felt pretty good about myself. Already, I’d made a hundred and fifty dollars on the Gorski pink, knit cashmere beanie and I’d taken down payments of one hundred dollars each for the lingerie. If I could find my missing fabrics, I might make enough to cover my rent by the end of the week. It was pocket change to Mother, but a decent sale in my current predicament.
Once I was able, I’d start saving. Saving so I could buy this damn shop and be free of the vampire. And Mother.
Detecting movement from outside my shop window, I looked up and watched as a petite blonde jumped down from a Jeep Wrangler that was parked across the street. She closed the Jeep’s door and balancing a cup of coffee in one hand, and a bag of something in the other, she fished through her purse until she found what she was looking for and opened the front door of her shop, ‘Poppy’s Potions’. A few seconds later, the perimeter of the shop window was glowing with the garish colors of Christmas lights.
It was the gypsy Stanley had mentioned…
My mood abruptly soured.
She was going to be a problem.
I wouldn’t have pegged her as a Traveller at first glance. Dressed in faded blue jeans, Chuck Taylor’s, and a white knit sweater, she wasn’t outfitted in the customary bright colors of her ancestors. No, unlike most gypsies I’d come across, she was fairly… unassuming. Short (at least four inches shorter than me) with an ample bust and rump, she was built curvy.
She turned to wave to Stanley as he clomped by, and it was then that I realized a line of about four or five people had already formed in front of her store. Hmph.
Her smile was bright and happy as she held the door open, greeting each customer as they entered. She’d pulled her light blonde hair back into a braid, her face framed by wispy bangs and a few pieces of hair that escaped the braid. Fresh-faced and cheerful, she was pretty, in a girl-next-door sort of way.
And I suddenly hated her for it.
I hated the way customers were already lined up, waiting to enter her store—clearly she’d already made a name for herself. And I hated the way she greeted each one and immediately launched into a conversation as if she’d known them forever. I hated her easy smiles, her pink cheeks, and her sparkling blue eyes.
Why? Because I couldn’t afford Holly Morton.
I’d counted on being the only magical shop in town. Novelty drew in a decent tourist trade, and that would allow me to make bank, eventually. But with gypsy Pollyanna brewing potions and selling crystals across the road, upstaging my shop, I’d go out of business quickly.
I had to do something about her, and fast.
“Why are you glaring at that woman?”
“She’s a gypsy.”
“Ah, the plot thickens.”
But, I was only barely paying attention to my irritating companion. Instead, I continued to stare at Poppy as she greeted the line of customers as they entered her store—a line that was continuing to grow.
“There is no plot,” I spat out.
Hellcat got up on his paws and stared out the window beside me. “Stop staring at her and do something about her.”
“Do what?” I asked, frowning down at him.
“She’s just one insignificant gypsy, and she’s probably a sham.”
“She’s not a sham or she wouldn’t have that line out the door.”
“You’re a witch or have you forgotten?”
“I’m a Blood Witch.”
“Potato patato,” Hellcat responded with a shrug that just looked odd on a cat. “The point is, you still have magic and your magic is much stronger than hers, you stupid ogress.”
“It seems like she’s got to be pretty powerful.”
“Ha!” the little rodent responded. “And you’re currently terrorizing a vampire with a doll you created. You know as well as I do that you can make a gypsy quail without trying.”
He was right, of course.
I was just being cowardly, glowering at the gypsy from behind a pane of glass. I’d never get anywhere if I didn’t march over there and tell that gypsy how things were going to be now that there was a witch in Haven Hollow.
I pushed to my feet.
“Where are you going?” Hellcat demanded.
“I’m going over there to let that gypsy know there’s a new witch on the block.”
Chapter Ten
Well, first I waited for most of the customers to clear out of the gypsy’s shop. Better to have this conversation without an audience…
But, once the last of her customers exited the store, I started across the street. The December wind tossed my hair like a dark curtain around my face, and I turned my coat collar up to ease some of the chill. On an ordinary year, Astrid and I would be eagerly anticipating Yule. I adored decorating for the festival and taking the young witch shopping for supplies. The dear girl loved wool, and she was a natural when it came to knitting. Half the sweaters I owned were her doing. I’d kept every one she’d ever given me, even her clumsy first attempts.
“Merry Christmas!” some kid on a bike yelled out with a wave as he rode by.
“Oh, pop a tire,” I grumbled, feeling not unlike Scrooge. Well, if I’d never understood good ol’ Ebenezer, I understood him now. Bah Humbug and then some.
Poppy’s Potions was a quaint little shop. A one story, brown brick square with frosted glass block windows that dominated the majority of the shop front. On the windows were painted Christmas scenes of Santa and reindeer on one and presents underneath a Christmas tree on the other. A small mahogany door was squeezed like an afterthought between the windows and it was edged all the way around in faux pine garlands that lit up with white twinkly lights. A green awning sheltered the doorway, and the small set of stairs that led from the sloping sidewalk into the store.
The bell on the door gave a chipper chime as I stepped through. I scuffed my boots on the welcome mat to disguise a covert glance around. I didn’t have to test any of the vials of potions to know this woman wasn’t a phony, like Hellcat had guessed. Magic was so thick in the air, I could taste it. A parade of scents and flavors washed over me as I stood examining the shelves. Bergamot, patchouli, myrrh, jasmine, vanilla, allspice, pepperwort, and vetiver, just to name a few. And those were the ones I could immediately pick out. I was sure there were even more.
A round of fresh envy twisted in my gut as I took in the shop, that was done up to look like an old-time apothecary with a Christmas tree in one corner. Hanging from the boughs of the tree were potions dressed in red ribbons and underneath the tree were wrapped packages for those who were too lazy to wrap their own stupid presents.
“Would you like some hot chocolate?” a woman, presumably Poppy, called out from the rear of the store, her voice competing with the sounds of ‘Santa Baby’ as they spilled out of the speakers.
“No!” I called back.
This should have been my place. My shop, though aesthetically opposite to this hole in the wall, should have had the reception and dignity it deserved.
Yet, all I had was a neon sign, empty racks, handwritten descriptions and second-hand mannequins. What I had was a joke.
But, back to the gypsy’s store—the magic was definitely present, but it wasn’t as potent as Mother’s, Tabitha’s, or even Astrid’s, but it was impressive, for a purely human woman. And her shop was pretty impressive too—with more potions and elixirs than I could count.
In fact, the more I looked at them, the more I realized I could probably save myself a ton of time and money by skipping the brewing process entirely. Time: because I was crap at brewing potions to begin with. Money: because I wouldn’t have to sink funds I didn’t have into the ingredients if I could just buy the potions pre-mixed. That would save me at least a few hundred dollars right off the bat.
