Page 5 of Dark Wings

“You know what I want,” I said.

The old witch rounded one of the long tables, reached for a thick stack of a weird-looking plant, and started chopping it into tiny pieces with a cleaver.

Sylvie was probably almost two hundred years old, with long silver hair tied in a braid, and many wrinkles. She wore dresses from the last century, topped by thin scarfs, usually dark red or indigo.

Today she wore a dusky pink one.

I had asked before what kind of witch she was, and what coven she belong to.

“Have you heard of lone wolves?” she had asked me. “I’m a lone witch.”

And that was all she ever said about the subject.

It was clear she didn’t like me, or anyone for that matter. But like me, she needed money to survive, and the only thing she knew how to do were potions and elixirs.

“I need more.” I fished my latest winnings from my duffel bag and slapped the bills on the table in front of her. “How many doses can you get me with that?”

She glanced at the money, then at me. She pursed her lips and continued chopping the plant. “Three.”

“Three?” I almost shrieked. “The last time you made six!”

“Well, the main ingredient is Mage Bloom, a rare plant, and my supplier increased its price.” She stopped chopping and stared at me. “I need to pass that price to my customers.”

Damn it.

Three doses wouldn’t last a week. To have more money, I would need to agree to more fights. Mr. Green would love that.

I sighed. “Fine. Give me three. I’ll come back in a few days with more money for more.”

“I can give you one now. Come back for more?—”

“What? Why just one?”

“Didn’t you hear what I said? Mage Bloom is rare. Why did you think the price went up? It’s hard to find. I have only enough for one. My supplier will bring more by Wednesday.”

Her supplier was a little goblin who dealt with dark magic. My gut had tightened when I learned who he was, and I had almost given up on this deal. But I needed this potion.

I swallowed my pride and made a deal with her: I paid her well and she made me a potion to hide my aura from other angels.

Now, it seemed, I would have to pay her better than well.

I shook my head. “I can get the money for more, but if this plant is so rare, money won’t matter.”

“I’m afraid not.”

I took a couple of steps back and sat on the armchair beside another table—a thick leather ledger was open on top of the table, and there was a lengthy list in a language I didn’t understand.

What could I do? Without this potion, I had no way of hiding from the angels. And today, I had proof that I really needed it. I had been taking half doses to make it last, and the angels were on my tail.

If I stopped taking it, I was done for.

“There has to be something I can do,” I muttered to myself. I glanced at Sylvie as she put the pieces of chopped herb into a small bowl. “You don’t know any other suppliers? Or witches who could have other contacts, someone who can find more of the rare plant.”

“I actually contacted a witch I know,” she said. I stared at her with wide eyes. “What? I knew you needed it.” She turned her back to me and spilled the chopped plants into the bubbling cauldron. Smoke rose high and a sweet, flowery scent filled the room. “Anyway, she didn’t have any and said she hadn’t been able to secure any in months.”

“If we can’t find the plant, then we need to create another potion, with other ingredients.”

She chuckled, not amused. “You think potion creation is easy, Ariella?”

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