Practical Potions and Premeditated Murder (Practical Potions Mysteries Book 1), page 10
Sella tapped the counter to get Cali’s attention, subtly bending her head to the door.
Cali clasped her hands over her mouth. “It worked!” she squealed through her fingers. “I knew she couldn’t resist!”
Sella caught Lohrna’s eyes through the crowd. Her best friend was mingling, but still on alert, so it wasn’t hard to direct her attention towards the newcomers.
But Lohrna was anything but subtle. In her usual way, she stood on her tiptoes rather obviously to see over the crowd.
Sella rubbed her eyes with thumb and middle finger.
“Not exactly subtle, is she?” Cali nudged Sella’s arm.
Sella froze at the cold, ghostly touch.
“Oh, sorry.” Cali looked down at her own body. “I forget sometimes.”
“It’s okay,” Sella whispered back. It wasn’t the cold that caught her off guard, but the physical act of Cali’s touch. She looked down at her own arm for a moment but then the newcomers caught her attention again.
Dimas parted the crowd like a shark parts fish. She was calm and confident, nearly gliding through the room as people gave her a wide berth, seemingly without intention. She smiled, wide and charismatic, when she got close to the counter.
The man scurried to stand by her side. Though his body language indicated looming anxiety, his eyes were calm and secure. He looked at Sella as though he had met her a thousand times before.
“So, this is the famous Practical Potion’s Mead and Melody Night?” Dimas rested her forearms on the counter, leaning towards Sella so her voice, light and airy like wind chimes, could be heard above the music.
“I wouldn’t call it famous, but as the owner, I do hope you enjoy your time tonight.” Sella smiled, she hoped it didn’t look as fake as she felt. “You’re new in town?”
“Visiting. Tourists, if you will.” Dimas stood back to her full height. “I always like to see the local entertainment when I’m out, though.” She glanced about the room; she flashed a bright grin at each person who made eye contact before turning back.
Sella felt awkward, but wanted to keep the conversation going. “This should be fun for you. We’ve partnered with the tavern next door. Be sure to help yourself to some of Hazen’s famous finger sandwiches. He’s a big guy, but his little sandwiches are made with a lot of care.” Sella gestured to the far corner where a table was laid out with a wide variety of tasty treats. Small signs near each listed the pricing in gold lettering. His tip jar was already overflowing, even though it was self-serve and based on the honor system.
Sella smiled gently at the little jar, but Dimas commanded her attention again. She hadn’t bothered to follow Sella’s hand, seemingly uninterested in any food. Her gaze was intense. “What flavors of mead do we have on the menu tonight?”
“Just mead, but it’s anything but plain.” Sella rolled along with Dimas’ question. “The bees are local and happy. They produce excellent, high-quality honey.”
“Just mead,” Dimas repeated, but without any hint of malice. She sounded charmed. Sella imagined someone as well traveled as Dimas would probably see this seaside town as ‘quaint’ rather than ‘small.’ Sella wished, briefly, that she could see her home with that fresh lens. Dimas went on, “Do you make it in house?”
“Afraid we don’t have the space.” Sella shrugged. “Hazen makes the mead. But he uses all our ingredients.”
“I’ll have to trust he knows what he’s doing, then,” she said. “I’ll take a glass of ‘just mead.’” She glanced at the man beside her. “Nicte?”
“Make that two glasses, please,” Nicte said to Sella.
“Nicte!” Lohrna’s booming voice startled them and a few others nearby.
Sella checked Cali out of the corner of her eye. To all in the shop, Sella announced loudly, “Sorry about that…”
Lohrna nearly bounded through the crowd to the counter, glass raised high above the heads of those around her. “Nicte! I’m glad you could make it!” She gave him a quick pat on his shoulder, and he took it in stride.
“We wouldn’t miss an opportunity to see local entertainment,” he echoed Dimas’s words. “Or try some honey wine…”
Sella slid two glasses across the counter.
A small flame floated between them for a moment, shining light on the thick, golden liquor. It sparkled brightly in the light, and the flame moved on.
“What lovely magic.” Dimas’s eyes watched the little fire float away. She took her first sip. “And lovely flavor. Happy bees do make happy honey, I suppose.”
“I’d like to think so,” Sella said. “It seems you already know my dear friend, Lohrna.” She held out her hand. “I’m Sella. Certified Kitchen Witch.”
“These flames must come in handy in the kitchen,” Dimas said. She looked down at Sella’s hand for a beat before she stretched out her own. “I’m called Dimas. This is Nicte, as I’m sure you heard.”
“It’s not our custom to shake hands in Tollintal,” Cali explained Dimas’ hesitance.
Sella withdrew her hand as soon as Dimas let go. She felt color rise to her cheeks at the lack of knowledge with customs from across the sea. For all her travels, she still had much to learn. Though, she wished Dimas were more well-read on customs in Orakan and avoided this whole awkwardness. “It’s nice to meet you.” She tried to recover. “How long are you in town?”
“We’ll be leaving soon. I hear there is a mine in the valley up north,” Dimas said. “Besides, we… have worn out our stay.”
Behind them, the stage was quiet while the next musician set up her instruments.
Lohrna leaned in as the music began again, a folksy melody that filled the space with gentle strums. “What makes you say that?” she asked, her voice uncharacteristically quiet.
Nicte and Dimas exchanged a wordless look. Dimas sighed, her shoulders sunk in… but to Sella, it looked like a practiced pose. Everything about Dimas was intentional, calculated. A way to get people to like her, to empathize with her, to be swept away in her charm.
It was unsettling.
Dimas continued, “We came to this side of the world to procure products for our business.” She glanced at Lohrna, then added for Sella’s benefit, “We’re gem sellers. It’s a bustling trade back home.” She waved her hand casually as though it was any other boring job — not terribly important or lucrative – though her well-crafted, clean attire and jewelry-studded frame implied otherwise.
“That sounds interesting,” Sella inserted, prompting her along.
Dimas took another large sip, smacking her lips. “It’s something. We came to Marra first, considering a former associate of ours had recently moved here. I was hoping to get some insight from her about where we should visit – which mines were most successful.”
Sella caught Cali raising an eyebrow. It took all her concentration to avoid glancing Cali’s way.
“Speaking of,” Lohrna cut in, directing her gaze at Nicte, “did you ever go down to the shoreline? There’s lovely seaglass there. It’s not rare here, but considering you’re from a desert, I’ll bet it could fetch a good price simply for the novelty–”
The sound of large, booted steps announced Hazen’s appearance, stopping Lohrna before she could go on. He seemed unfazed by his own interruption. “Great night, Sella. I’m impressed we were able to pull this off on such short notice.”
“What can I say? You and I are brilliant, Hazen.” Sella refilled his cup “I’m glad you get a night off.”
He took a swig of mead and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand gruffly. The way his attention descended on Dimas clearly stated it wasn’t a social call. “You’re Cali’s former boss, then?” Hazen held out the same hand to shake.
This time, she did not wait before taking his hand firmly. “I am.”
“She was a good kid. A good kid.”
“She was a good woman,” Nicte corrected.
“Ah, everyone’s a kid to Hazen,” Lohrna said lightheartedly. She squeezed Hazen’s forearm, a silent signal. “Cali worked for Hazen… before… you know...”
A silence descended upon them. Cali rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Way to bring the mood down.”
“Shocking that this could happen in a place like this.” Nicte shook his head. “It doesn’t seem like a dangerous place.”
“It’s not.” Hazen’s eyes narrowed and the air grew thick.
“More mead?” Sella asked brightly. She filled all their cups.
Beside her, Cali smiled. She leaned in close to Sella, arms still crossed. “You’re a pro.”
“If you’re insinuating anything, we’ve already discussed the situation with your detective.” Nicte met Hazen’s glare with a scowl of his own, his gentle facade temporarily broken.
“And I advised you to not leave town yet,” Benka said, appearing as quickly and quietly as an apparition.
Lohrna jumped. “I thought you went home!” she squeaked.
Benka looked better than he had only a bit ago. The bags under his eyes were gone. Sella wondered briefly what kind of charm or potion it was… Nothing she made here. “I did. But it occurred to me that I left without paying my respects.” He looked at Sella, then to the group. “This is quite the gathering we have here.”
The music lulled and everyone but Dimas shifted uncomfortably in the brief silence.
Benka focused on Sella. “I am glad you’re hosting this, and I look forward to many more to come. It is a beautiful way to honor those who came before us.” He pushed gray hair over his thick horns and stayed very still until Sella sighed just to break the silence.
“Thank you, Benka. Consider your respects paid.” Sella gripped the counter with one hand. Her hidden fingers searched the shelf.
Cali leaned down to inspect Sella’s wandering hand. She pushed a thin vial into Sella’s outstretched fingers. Sella knew this one by touch. It was labeled ‘Trust the Process.’ She poured a few drops into the jug of mead hidden below, but kept her eyes fixed on Benka.
“Mead?” She lifted the trust-spiked pitcher from behind the counter.
He shook his head and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his large coat, still speckled with rain from outside. “Don’t leave town,” he said again to Dimas and Nicte, a solemn warning.
“We couldn’t even if we wanted to.” Dimas tossed a lock of hair over her shoulder. “You beached all the boats.”
“Inclement weather,” Benka responded without pause. “The sea is too rough.”
“They’re docked on your orders, are they not?” Dimas said before taking another quick sip. She met his eyes with a calm but firm expression. “The hotel is crowded and the people are becoming restless. The ships’ captains should be the ones to make the decision if their boat is sturdy enough to travel.”
For a moment, Sella regretted giving Dimas any liquid courage.
But Benka merely shrugged. “The ships are unfit to navigate this weather. ” And with that, he wandered his way back through the crowd and out the door.
“He certainly has a way about him,” Dimas said diplomatically. She turned to Nicte. “I guess we’re in town a little longer. The captains don’t seem interested in breaking his orders.”
“He has no authority over us. We aren’t Marran citizens,” Nicte said coolly.
“Stars,” Cali hissed.
It echoed in Sella’s ears as Dimas said the same thing. “We’ll cooperate however we can.” Dimas narrowed her eyes clearly telling him to sound more helpful. She wasn’t quite as subtle as she thought she was. “Though we do have scheduled appointments coming up…” She looked around the shop again and sighed dramatically, her shoulders rising and falling in a huff, making a show of her sacrifice.
Sella ignored her comment. “More?” She held up her ceramic jug filled with magic and mead.
“Always.” Dimas smiled, her posture shifted once again to that of grace. She held out her cup eagerly.
“Told you,” Cali whispered.
“Gnarly business, all of this,” Dimas said as she sipped her refill. Her long lashes slowly blinked over the rim of the cup. “I do hope, for all your sakes, they find whoever did this. Poor Calisyali…”
“To Calisyali,” Nicte raised his cup.
Hazen’s stiff demeanor softened, enough for Sella to notice. He rubbed one eye and held his cup out with the other. “To Cali,” his voice boomed as the five clinked cups and music blared in the background.
“Aw, this is sweet.” Cali leaned over the counter. “But we have work to do. Ask them some questions… Oh! Ask them who they think did it.”
Sella side-eyed Cali, playing it off like she was assessing the party, and then waited for them to all take a drink. “Do you have any theories on who could have done this?”
Hazen took a deep breath, his barrel chest expanding and then collapsing as though his core had given out. “I don’t have any theories… I don’t have any thoughts but grief over this senselessness.”
Lohrna held his arm again. “You’re a good man, Hazen…. Hey, I think Cirian is looking a little lonely anyway.” She gestured to the man across the way who was looking at them with curious eyes, clearly trying and failing to eavesdrop.
Hazen grumbled, but squeezed Lohrna’s hand and nodded to them before he made his way back through the crowd.
Lohrna clinked her class against Dimas’. “Sorry about him. He feels more than you’d expect.”
Dimas waved her hand. “It’s fine,” she said in a way that made Sella think it was anything but.
“You knew Cali, though. Before she was here,” Lohrna said as the crowd applauded the second musician. “You must have some insight.”
“Not really.” Dimas shrugged. “Cali kept to herself… She wasn’t in the habit of sharing much.”
Sella’s brows furrowed. That didn’t sound quite right.
Dimas went on, “There is a former partner I was never enthusiastic about. They say it’s always a lover.”
Cali puffed. “How banal.”
“What was his name again?” Dimas asked Nicte casually. She took another drink.
“Rorin,” Nicte said. “And it wouldn’t surprise me. Somewhat of a temper on that one. Jealous.”
“Hmm…” Dimas’ eyes glanced off to the ceiling, following another little flame as it passed by. “He did have some… let’s call them ‘issues’... if I recall. But he wasn’t exactly the sharpest thorn on the cactus.”
“You know, I thought I saw Rorin the other day,” Nicte said, as if he had suddenly remembered it.
“You saw Rorin? Here?” Dimas’s composure broke for the briefest moment. Considering how bad their acting had been until this point, this revelation felt off-script.
“What?” Cal’s voice was so loud, Sella was certain everyone had heard. “Rorin is here?”
Sella frowned. “Is that bad?”
“It’s just odd.” Dimas looked to the far end of the shop. Her tall spine almost seemed to expand to see over the heads and stage to the large window. It was a futile effort; she’d never glimpse him in the dark through the rain, especially with the reflections of warm fires inside. “That is odd…” she whispered.
“He was far away. Like Dimas said, it was so ‘odd’ and out of place. I just assumed it was a trick of the light. But now that I think about it, it really might have been him.”
Lohrna’s eyes were wide. She scanned the faces of everyone in the group, but stayed unusually quiet.
“Where would we be able to find him?” Sella asked, feeling bold. The trust and truth in the mead began to finally work on her. “Where did you think you saw him?”
Nicte paused, scratching his ear thoughtfully. It was round at the tip – a bit odd to see, and only reminded Sella more that she was meddling with affairs she probably shouldn’t be.
It was far too late now.
“I saw him at the hotel, if it was even him. But he looked like he was in a hurry and left. The place was booked, anyway. I figured it was simply someone who looked like him being turned away. He didn’t have any of Rorin’s usual… let’s say, arrogance, about being told ‘no.’ But he was muttering about staying in that house by the shore since it looked empty. The woman said it was a witch’s house.”
“Your mom’s?” Lohrna mouthed, not too subtly.
Sella’s head tilted, enough to acknowledge it.
Nicte and Dimas were too busy sipping their drinks to notice. Dimas held her cup out when she finished. “Another glass and I just may go on stage and sing.”
“She will, too,” Nicte said seriously as Sella refilled both their cups. “Be careful with this one.”
“Oh, hush.” Dimas’ eyes narrowed playfully. “You know you love me.”
“That’s true,” Nicte conceded.
“I knew it!” Cali pointed dramatically between them. “I so called it!”
Sella nearly burst out laughing, a small chuckle escaped despite her best efforts. She gestured to the small stage, trying to recover. “Feel free. That’s what the stage is for.”
Raising their glasses, Dimas and Nicte made their way back through the crowd.
Sella released a sigh when they left, scanning the other guests. Some side-eyed her, clearly trying to overhear her conversation with the two humans. When she met their gaze, they looked away.
On the counter, Beejee pushed at her arm with his head. Apparently, he’d decided to rejoin the party. “There’s a group toward the back,” he said softly. “They’ve been looking at our ingredients for far too long.”
“Maybe they want to purchase something?” Sella shrugged, though she knew it was unlikely.
Beejee narrowed his eyes.
“Alright. I’ll go check.” She moved around the counter as the music began to fade. Applause broke out and Sella drew closer to the two women gathered by one of her shelves. She recognized them immediately, Ovina and Kartha. The two sisters came in on occasion, usually begrudgingly, for help with their arthritis – one of the many reasons Ovina was usually late with her knitting commissions.
