Page 80 of Sigils & Spells

“If I’d worn any of my new clothes they would’ve had calf drool on them,” I groused.

“Okay.” Grinning, she took my bag. “I’ll put your things away. As soon as the coffee’s finished brewing I’m going to do inventory.”

“Now?” I eyed her suspiciously. She never refused to do inventory, but she certainly never volunteered for the job. “It sounds pretty busy out there.”

“Well, Scarlet said you were getting antsy. I knew you’d come in after closing and do it yourself since no one had gotten to it yet. I thought I’d steal your control freak thunder and get it done before you got back.”

I wasn’t a control freak. Much.

She glanced at the curtain-covered doorway. “And Vixen’s out there,” she said in a hushed tone.

Vixen, no last name that I knew of, was a blood donor for the local vampire Prime and his household. Beautiful, curvaceous, and blonde, Vixen coveted Priya’s vampire boyfriend, Miles Garner.

I’d only met Miles once and while he seemed a nice enough fellow—for a vampire, I had reservations about their relationship.

“Ah. So really, you are …”

“Hiding.” She rubbed her forehead. “I know. I should ignore her, but honestly, I’m not up for being adult today.”

“Okay then. Hideaway. I’m going to change. Have fun with the inventory.”

Thankfully, before the bankruptcy, the remodeler had created two cozy apartments on the second level. I occupied one and my father, Gabriel, rented the other. After my parents’ divorce, he’d moved into an efficiency apartment in a sketchy neighborhood. I’d been relieved when he’d accepted my offer to move in. It helped that Besoins was within walking distance of Kingston University, where he worked.

I washed my face, slathered on moisturizer, then reapplied my mascara and lip gloss. I brushed out my hair and, in the interest of time, pulled it into a low ponytail instead of rebraiding it.

I’d put on gray slacks and had stretched out my hand to take a white button-down shirt off its hanger when my eyes slid to the colorful shirts I’d bought with Priya. They were a little more form-fitting than I liked. I wasn’t hung up on my body. Well, no more so than the average woman. I’d worn size twelve (with the occasional sliding up or down a size) for twelve of my thirty-four years. Would I like a more defined waist or thighs that didn’t touch? Sure. However, I didn’t have the “I love exercise” gene and I wasn’t wasting my money on illusion magic that would “airbrush away thirty pounds for thirty days.”

My gaze lingered on a silk shirt with swirls of turquoise, gray, and pale pink. It was lovely, something for a special occasion.

Priya would disagree with me and say it was perfect for every day.

Impulsively, I slipped it on. The feel of silk against my skin felt decadent.

I turned around to face the full-length cheval mirror in the corner of my walk-in closet. A rush of pleasure went through me. I’m not a vain woman, but I have to say, I looked good. With a spring in my step, I hurried downstairs.

Scarlett Novak stood behind the register. The color of her short, wavy hair matched the fuchsia tutu poofed around her waist and slim hips. She bore an expression of polite neutrality with the determination of a swordless knight wielding a battered shield against a fire-breathing dragon as a customer leaned into her space and rapped her knuckles against the L-shaped counter.

Shock flickered across Scarlett’s face when I entered the shop. “Marin … you. Never mind.” She motioned me over. “This customer wishes to speak to you.”

The knuckle-rapping woman whirled around. Slender, wearing yoga pants and a “Nama-stay in bed” t-shirt, her dark eyes widened in recognition. “You!” She stalked toward me. “I have a bone to pick with you.”

Scarlett rolled her eyes heavenward and blew out an exasperated breath. The next customer stepped forward in line and handed Scarlett her basket.

When I’d run the store solo I knew every customer’s name. I didn’t recognize the irate woman standing before me. “How may I help you?”

“My son was doused with green glitter!” The hostility radiating off her could have started a fire. I flinched when she jabbed her finger at me. I only managed to hold my ground knowing if she meant me any real harm Besoins’s protection spell would have yanked her out of the store. “It stained his hair, his skin, and his school clothes!”

Drawn by the woman’s shrill voice and wild gesticulations, a cluster of witches and naturals gathered around to watch the spectacle, Vixen among them.

Confrontations made me queasy. Hoping to soothe her, I adopted a gentle tone. “We have spells that can remove any stain, right over here.” I took a few tentative steps towards the shelves, then stopped when she didn’t follow.

“I don’t need a spell!” Her volume escalated. “My son could have been injured. He could have been concussed!”

I had no idea what she was talking about. “I’m sorry. What can I do for you?”

“You sold a dangeroushide-itcharm to a miscreant. You’re responsible! You shouldn’t sell spells to children!” Her face turned an alarming, non-Zen shade of red. “I’m reporting you to the Witch Council. You won’t get any more of my business and I’m going to tell everyone what you’ve done.” Spinning on her heel, the woman stormed out.

Silence reigned in the wake of her departure. I hoped no one noticed I was shaky after the encounter.

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