Southern Potions Read online

  Betty’s brows hitched. “I won’t believe it until I know every ingredient in that liquid and watch for myself as a person is transformed.”

  Shelly licked her lips. “I will show you how I make it. But I will only show you, and there’s one caveat.”

  “Oh, here we go.” Betty slapped her thigh. “Here’s where the black magic comes in.”

  “No black magic,” Shelly said in her buttery voice.

  Bo cleared his throat. “Might I say something?” He didn’t wait for anyone to agree. “I’m a wizard and don’t dabble in darkness. I would never have agreed to do this unless Shelly proved to me that no sacrifice was involved. The old, arcane methods of transmuting humans to animal is over. Shelly has discovered a new way.”

  “What’s the caveat?” Betty said. “The catch? What is it?”

  Shelly’s eyes glittered so brightly I was surprised she didn’t rub her hands with glee. “The catch, as you call it, is that I will show you how I prepared the potion in exchange for a service.”

  “What service is that?” Betty said.

  “I need a volunteer for my potion—at the contest. You understand I can use someone I’ve brought with me, but for the judging to be fully believed, it would behoove me to use a town local. Someone everyone in Magnolia Cove trusts.”

  All eyes turned to Betty.

  Betty’s voice soured. “You mean me.”

  “I mean you,” Shelly said. “You’re the most trusted person in this town. You must volunteer to be touched by the potion and then quickly turned back—I mean very quickly. You won’t be a toad for longer than a few moments. Only then will I teach you the potion.”

  Silence filled the room. Betty’s eye twitched. Here’s the thing—Betty’s original occupation was that of a witch pharmacist, or healer, for lack of a better description. So my grandmother by nature was someone who liked grinding and working with natural substances to cure people or change things—potion making, as it were.

  So the fact that Shelly Seay dangled a potion that worked a curveball around black magic, or shot a hole through it, was like finding a diamond in a cave to Betty. Essentially Shelly had approached the exact right person for her bidding.

  Betty’s curiosity would be too much. She’d want to know all about the potion. She would have to. It was in her nature.

  My grandmother blew another smoke square that floated to the ceiling and remained like mist. Her gaze darted around the room until it finally landed on Shelly.

  The sorceress hitched a brow. “Well? Do you have an answer?”

  “I’ve got an answer for you.”

  I held my breath.

  “No,” Betty said. “I will not under any circumstances help you with this potion. I don’t believe you. Somewhere in this spell is dark magic—the work of using blood. I know it.” Betty rose. “Now, it was wonderful visiting with you, but I would like it if you and your sorcering ways left.”

  Shelly’s mouth twitched. “You’re making a mistake.”

  The front door blew open. A wind whipped my hair until it covered my eyes. I pushed it aside.

  Betty’s eyes blazed with anger. Her shoulders tensed. Her mouth formed a thin line.

  She pointed to the door. “I’m not making a mistake. I’m keeping one from being created.”

  Whoa. I didn’t remember the last time I’d seen Betty so ticked. But still, Shelly and her boyfriend, or whoever he was, exited stage left.

  Betty brushed her hands as if ridding herself of grime. “Well now that that’s settled, what would y’all like to do for the rest of the day?”

  I already had plans. Which was good because I didn’t know how long Betty’s nasty mood would last, and y’all, I didn’t want to be anywhere near her.

  So I headed on over to Axel’s house to say goodbye to his parents.

  His mother, Karen, wrapped me in a huge hug. “It’s been wonderful meeting you, Pepper.”

  “You too.” I inhaled the scent of vanilla and goodness that haloed her hair. “Where are y’all headed?”

  Karen eyed their RV. “Florida. I like to go where it’s warm in the winter.”

  “Can’t say I blame you.”

  I gave Roger a hug while their new dog, Arsenal, yipped at my legs. I picked up the beagle and gave him a cuddle. “I’m going to miss you, boy.”

  Thank you, the dog said.

  I scratched his head. “You’re welcome.”

  Arsenal thanked me because I’d recently put the person who killed his mistress behind bars. That person had been his master. Since Arsenal was currently an orphan, he’d found a great family in Axel’s parents. They were happy for the company, and the dog had new parents. It was a win-win.

  Axel and I watched as his parents drove off, the RV rumbling as Roger steered it down the road.

  Axel wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “You got your wish granted last night.”

  I certainly had. The wishing hat that sat atop a snowman had shot a slip of paper to me that revealed the secret Christmas wish I had made was granted.

  I nuzzled my head to his shoulder. “So I did.”

  Axel’s hand slid down my arm. His skin left a trail of fire burning over my flesh. I shuddered as a pulse of want flared in my body.

  His breath tickled my ear as Axel whispered. “Are you going to keep your wish a secret? You can, you know. It’s not as if you have to tell me.”

  I laughed. “Are you, Axel Reign, dying to know what I wished for?”

  “No, no, not at all. But if I just thought you might like to tell someone. Get it off your chest.”

  I tipped my head back to meet his gaze. His blue eyes held light and love. One look sent a barb straight to my heart, pinning it to my spine and stealing my breath as well as my wits.

  My tongue disappeared from my mouth.

  In a good way. It was all in a good way.

  I fingered the locket he’d given me for Christmas. Beautiful was an inept word to describe the protection locket. A golden vine snaked around the front. I loved it. Almost as much as I loved him.

  “Okay, I’ll tell you what I wished for.”

  Mischief sparked in his eyes. “Was it to win the potion-making contest?”

  “Ha. No.” I wove my arm through his as he guided us back inside his house. “I didn’t wish for that, but the weirdest thing happened.”

  “Not in Magnolia Cove,” he said with mock surprise.

  I chuckled. “Oh, sir, you know this town too well.”

  “Very true.”

  He opened the door for me, and I slinked into the warmth. I sucked it up like a fish returned to the water. It felt so delicious.

  “Anyway, this woman Shelly Seay showed up at the house today. She’d worked some sort of transformation potion on a man that turned him into a toad.”

  “That’s transmutation, and it uses dark magic.”

  “Tsk, tsk. You only think you know all the answers, Axel,” I teased as I shrugged from my jacket. “She said she’d created a potion that didn’t use any sort of black magic. Shelly wanted to prove it by showing Betty her recipe. But that came with a catch.”

  “What catch?”

  I explained the rest of the situation. He listened silently, studying me.

  When I finished, he drummed his fingers on the kitchen counter. “And Betty said no.”

  “Yes. She didn’t want to have anything to do with it.”

  “Probably for the best.”

  “Why?”

  Axel slid a hand over the dark stubble on his jaw. “I’ve heard of people trying to bypass black magic before with these sorts of spells. It never works.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “It doesn’t?”

  “No. It generally seems like a good idea, but when it comes right down to it, the potions are unstable. They don’t hold. Either that, or they hold too long.”

  My mouth quirked in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “What I mean is, if Betty had drunk that potion, there’s no guarantee
in the stability of the solution. She could’ve been stuck as a frog forever.”

  THREE

  The next day life started getting back to normal. If you call magic exploding from people’s chimneys normal, I guess.

  A loud crack rang outside the house. The cottage rumbled and jolted. Picture frames tumbled to the floor. Knickknacks toppled over and splintered into fragments. I grabbed a nearby wall to steady myself.

  “What’s going on?” I shouted at Betty.

  She waved her hand. The picture frames righted themselves and knickknacks sewed themselves together. “It’s only the week before potion contest shenanigans. Folks lock themselves in their houses and nearly destroy their homes in order to perfect their potions.”

  The rumbling stopped. I brushed a curtain of hair from my eyes and slowly straightened. I wasn’t sure if I should wait for another rumble or not. “Sheesh. I hope no one accidentally blows themselves up.”

  “Happens every year.” Cordelia floated in and smiled nonchalantly.

  My jaw dropped. “What?”

  She dismissed me with a wave. “It’s fine. No one ever gets hurt, but some come pretty close.”

  “This year,” Amelia said, sailing down the stairs, “I’m going to win. I’m creating a potion to beat all potions.”

  “And what potion would that be?” Cordelia said.

  Amelia smiled brightly. “One that makes even the grumpiest person happy for thirty minutes.”

  Betty, Cordelia and I stared at each other. No one said a word.

  Amelia tapped her foot impatiently. “I know y’all think it’s stupid, but here’s the thing—if you’ve got to break bad news to someone, give them a drop of this potion and they won’t be so mad.”

  “What about when it wears off?” I said.

  “Oh, they’ll be ticked then,” Cordelia said.

  “Okay, so I haven’t worked out all the kinks.” Amelia’s face reddened. “Don’t worry, I’ll have all the wrinkles smoothed by the time it’s contest day. Don’t any of y’all worry.”

  Cordelia flicked her long blonde hair over one shoulder. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

  “Sometimes I hate you,” Amelia said.

  Cordelia flashed her a huge grin. “But I love you.”

  Amelia grumbled something unintelligible.

  “Girls,” Betty interrupted, “I suggest the three of you get on your potion making if you’re to enter the contest. From the sounds of outside, you’re going to have some stiff competition.”

  Amelia plucked a biscuit from a dish and peeled it open. “And what’re you going to be making this year?”

  Betty tapped her nose. Her eyes glittered with delight. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

  I ate and went upstairs. The week between Christmas and New Year’s was a vacation week in the witch town. No one worked. Instead everyone spent their time making and perfecting—you guessed it, potions. Unless you were an overachiever, that was. I supposed if you aligned yourself with that particular coven, you were already set for the competition.

  And that would not be me.

  As I’d only just discovered that the contest was basically a rite of passage in Magnolia Cove, I was doing this whole thing by the skin of my teeth.

  I opened the lid of the potion-making kit and stared at the vials and pouches of powder.

  “Don’t know what you’re doing, sugarbear?”

  I glanced over at Mattie the Cat, who was curled up on the windowsill. Hugo, my pet dragon, lay on the floor, his tail sweeping the rug in greeting.

  “No, I have no idea what I’m doing. I could use about a million pounds of help.”

  Mattie stretched and jumped to the floor. She padded to the box, looked inside and sniffed. “First of all, this is great for basic potion making. If you want to create a cream that gives your worst enemy the boil of their life on their butt, this is what you’d be needin’. But if you want to actually make a potion that places, you can grab the vials and throw the rest of it out the window.”

  Her harshness hurt my feelings. “It’s a starter kit.” It came out a whimper. “I don’t know anything about potion making.”

  “Sugarbear, I know all there is to know about it.” She arched her back in what looked like an awesome stretch. “I can help you. Now.” She sat on her haunches and blinked. “What is it you’d like to make?”

  I frowned. “I have no clue.”

  “Okay, well think about things that move you.”

  “Amelia wants to put someone in a good mood for thirty minutes.”

  “She must be wantin’ to give Cordelia or Betty bad news.”

  I tapped my foot. “There’s a lot going on.” I’d bought Axel wrist bands that should help us communicate when he’s a werewolf. I was hoping to really break through to him.

  “To knock the feral out?”

  “Yep,” I said. I rubbed my forehead. Heck, in a magical town like mine there were about a thousand ways I could go. But what was the most pressing at the moment?

  “I want to stop chaos.”

  Mattie did the closest thing to laughing I’d ever heard. It was sort of cackle and meow—strange and grating. “Sugar, you’ve got chaos witches for aunts.”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  Quiet covered the room. “What do you mean?”

  “Cordelia and Amelia’s fathers are here. I’m afraid their dads are going to cause powers latent in my cousins to come forward. Powers that might be more detrimental than not. Because of their heritage. I want to stop that. Be able to put a hold on it.”

  Mattie peered again into the box. “Sugar, you’re going to need a lot more ingredients than are in this box. The stuff you’re going to need would belong to one person.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “A wizard.”

  “Axel, then.”

  “Yep. We’d better get over there if we’re going to create the sort of potion you want to make.”

  “Let’s go.”

  I packed up the box and led Mattie and Hugo to my riding cast-iron skillet. I hiked one leg over the pole. Mattie jumped on the front, and Hugo flew alongside us.

  We’d made it just past Bubbling Cauldron when I noticed Shelly Seay walking through town. That wasn’t the weird part. Walking beside her was Betty.

  Betty!

  What was Betty doing with Shelly?

  I didn’t have time to think because a whirl of magic whizzed past. A sphere flaring with power shot across the sky and splashed into a tree.

  Another witch on a cast-iron skillet appeared beside us. It was a young woman with frizzy dark hair wearing long black robes.

  “Get the dragon out of here,” she yelled.

  I dug my heels in and skidded to a stop. “What are you talking about?”

  The little witch zoomed past. “My potion! It finds magical creatures and sticks to them like glue. It’s a beacon. Your dragon is magical! The ball will find him.”

  The sphere pulled itself off the tree and shot straight toward us.

  “What happens if it finds him?”

  The witch scrunched up her face. “I don’t know! I haven’t figured that much out yet!”

  That didn’t sound good. “You’d better get us out of here,” Mattie said. “Sounds like that witch don’t know what she’s doing.”

  I agreed. Time to get the heck out of Dodge. “Let’s go, Hugo!”

  I reached down and found a well of power ready to be tapped. My skillet zoomed on over the trees, and Hugo kept up. I glanced back to see the ball knock into the frizzy haired witch’s chest. She somersaulted, and when the spinning stop, her chest was covered in magical goo.

  Better her than us.

  By the time we reached Axel’s house, Hugo was out of breath and adrenaline zipped through me.

  “Back so soon?” he said in greeting.

  “I need your equipment.”

  His eyes bulged. “Excuse me?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Your magic
al equipment. I need the powders and whatnot you have downstairs.”

  “Oh.” He placed a hand over his heart. “As much as I would love to give you my equipment, I was sure that wasn’t what you meant.”

  I fisted a hand against his arm. “You’re right. It wasn’t. I’m here to create the greatest potion ever known to mankind.”

  Axel gestured for me to enter. “Please don’t let me stop you.”

  He led me downstairs. Mattie and I worked while Axel played upstairs with Hugo.

  As I stood in front of the wall of vials and boxes, I realized something. “I don’t think I want to make that potion. The one to stop the chaos.”

  “Then what do you want to do?”

  I bit down on my lip. I wasn’t sure if it would work. “I have an idea. I don’t know if it’s possible, but I’d like to try.”

  “What is it?”

  “Well, you know how I made a wish in the hat this year?”

  “I think I might’ve heard something about it.” Mattie jumped on a shelf and licked her paw. “Course I don’t know what it was about.”

  “Well the wish was that I could talk to Axel when he’s a werewolf. The wish was granted.”

  “That’s good.”

  “So I want to make a potion around that. Something to go with it.”

  Mattie nodded. “Okay. What’re you thinking?”

  I eyed bottles of ingredients I only knew in passing. “This is what I want to do.”

  FOUR

  The day of the potion making contest finally arrived. For the past days I’d been staying up late, waking up early and barely eating. I was determined to create a wonderful potion.

  I knew what my cousins had said, that the rest of the world took New Year’s very seriously so witches didn’t when it came to potions, but I didn’t care. My potion was serious stuff, and I was super proud of it.

  I awoke stiff and sore. Hours of grinding and whisking had taken their toll. I yawned, took one look in the mirror and cringed.

  It looked like Death had ridden a motorcycle over my face. My hair stuck out like hay, I had deep wells under my eyes and my skin looked dry to the point of cracking.