Page 67 of Sunshine & Sinful

“The special ones?” I ask.

Sola nods. “If that’s okay. Apparently, I’m being gifted to a group of men. For my protection, I’d like to have something on me to use should things go sideways.”

That’s smart.

I look to Cell for clarification, and she reads me like a book when she explains, “Dark’s presenting Sola as a gift to a group of his ‘friends.’” She air quotes.

Right. So, they’re not Dark’s friends, they’re Maxim’s, or they have something to do with the club.

I nod, and she carries on. “The club needs information, and Sola is our only sister skilled enough to be convincing.”

Which is code for Sola loves to get fucked, and fucking powerful men gives them a false sense of superiority. In Sola’s case, it also tears down their walls just enough for her to slip past their defenses because no one would suspect a meek sex fiend could ever be a threat.

“Okay. What does this entail?” I ask Cell as I finish off my breakfast.

“Multiple men. One house, I think. We don’t know much. They get a new plaything every few months, use her up, and then she vanishes. Dark wants to bring Solain, give her time to find whatever she can, and get her out before they use her up.”

Of course, he does.

I turn to my sister on the sofa. “Sola, are you sure you want to do this?”

Excited by the prospect, she plays the drums on my thigh. “Yes. I'll be fine as long as I have your special chocolate and tea with me. If they get out of line, or Dark can’t get me out in time, I’ll poison them.”

“Have you killed anyone before?”

“No. But I’m not killing them. I’m poisoning them, and only if I’m concerned for my safety.”

Fair enough.

Sounds good to me. I’m not going to try to change Sola’s mind. That’s not my job, anyhow. She’s a grown woman. If she wants to work this job, then she can work this job. If she wants to bring my special tea and chocolate for protection, so be it.

Getting up from the couch, I wave for Sola to follow. Before we ascend the stairs to the stores, I discard my muffin wrapper. My sister tails me to my small office at the rear of Dark’s Delicacies, on the chocolate side. I press a code on the door into a high-tech keypad to unlock the steel bolts. They slide free with a loud bang, and I’m welcomed into a white-walled room no bigger than an average walk-in closet. The overhead lights flare to life as we corral into the space and shut the door behind us. I engage the lock again, not wanting anyone to see what’s inside. Most people don’t know this room exists. If they do, they don’t acknowledge its presence.

Black shelves line the back wall from floor to ceiling,filled with various apothecary bottles ridiculously labeled for my amusement. The dried poisonous berries, plants, flowers, and other goods have unique names—each derived from my notebook growing up. Kraken Kock is my favorite, with the outline of a Kraken devouring the label. One of his tentacles looks like a dick. Thankfully, only I know what resides in each bottle. The darker the glass, the more dangerous the contents. Shhh…you didn’t hear that from me.

“Now I can see why everyone jokes you’re a witch.” Sola giggles, wide-eyed in awe, as she sits on the stool I point to for her safety so she doesn’t accidentally bump into anything.

Humming to myself, I get to work and slip on black latex gloves from the box mounted on the wall. Plucking whatever dried tea jars and poison bottles from the shelves, I line them on my small butcher block island—the safe items on one side, the naughty ones on the other.

My mortar and pestle help me pulverize the ingredients into a fine powder. I use my best guess on flavor profiles to make the tea drinkable. A pinch of this, a scoop of that, careful not to cross-contaminate.

The mix goes into a small floral tin similar to the ones I have at home. I add it to a black Dark Delicacies foiled stamped bag along with two of my small, single-serve chocolate bars, which I make in batches and infuse with the best un-aliving agents.

When I’m done, I return the bottles to the shelves, declutter my table, set the instruments in the small sink area, and hand the bag over to Sola.

“The tea is strong to hide the bitterness of the berriesand flowers,” I explain. “Steep the tea like you would any tea. It’s heavy on the spice—lots of clove, orange, and cinnamon. Throw in a few sugar cubes to sweeten it before it’s served.”

Holding the handle of her bag, Sola nods along with my instructions as I continue, “The chocolate is bitter, too—Dark chocolate with dried cranberries.”

“What should I expect?” She peeks into the bag's contents as if secrets are hidden inside. It might not look like much... The tea and a few bars, but they pack a mighty punch and can down at least six men.

“The tea will take an hour or so to kick in,” I note as I wipe down my chopping block with a paper towel. “Serve it at night, before bed, if possible. It’ll be subtle at first. Their heart will race. They’ll think they’re having a heart attack, and they are. It takes about twenty minutes after the initial racing for them to die.”

Sola nods as if memorizing everything. “And the chocolate?” she asks.

“They’ll go into anaphylaxis. Expect puking. Gasping for air. It’s quicker than the tea but also more dramatic of an end.” I toss the towel into the trash.

Sola reaches out and grabs my arm, squeezing gently. “Thanks, sister. This means a lot.”

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