Page 21 of Kissed the Mark
I gripped my seat on either side of me withboth hands. The goose in the backseat honked violently as it wasthrown from one side of its cardboard box to the other against astrained seat belt. Being mostly up during the night, I was alwaysincomprehensibly tired during the day—but now I was wide awake, andmy stomach was ready to regurgitate whatever meager meal I’d hadlast. “Beatrice,” I gasped. “How do you get anywhere likethis?”
“What?” she asked. She had braided half ofher hair, the other half swinging loose in the barrage of aircoming from her open window. “I can’t hear you!”
“Never mind! Focus on the road!”
“WHAT?”
Closing my eyes made me even dizzier. Iwatched instead my life flash before me, along with a pug and itsowner that became streaks in my vision. If I survived this, itwould be the last ride I asked her for.
In what felt like forever (but was reallymuch faster than we should have arrived), Beatrice slammed into thelittle parking lot for Sugar & Spice, entirely disregarding theslanted yellow lines. “Here we are,” she said, brushing herself offand tying her second braid in a neat little knot. I left the carwith sea legs and checked myself out in the side mirror—half of myhair stretched toward the heavens, and mascara had run across myface at an odd angle. I brushed my fingers through my hair and leftit loose.
“Are you okay? You look a little green,”Beatrice said as she stuffed the contents of her tote bag, whichhad strewn across the backseat, back into their tacky container.Flowers in the windowsill box planter swayed in the wind,reflecting how my own body felt.
The shop door opened with the twinkle of abell as she went ahead of me without checking to see if I actuallywas okay. I retrieved my goose box, now somewhat dented from theseatbelt, and followed her in.
Sugar & Spice always had a strong smellof herbs which was exacerbated by an ever-burning incense stick atthe front counter. Lavender and patchouli with a hint of orangepierced my nostrils, though not unpleasantly. It was homey, as faras magic shops go—natural wood shelves lined the place, with neatlyarranged jars of varying contents. There were some magical weaponsalong the wall, probably mostly decorative, including animpressively large sword. In one corner, a barrel brimmed with thetype of little wooden crosses Beatrice had brought to the church.My guess was that she came here a lot.
Griselda greeted us as we came in and kindlyrejected Beatrice’s Cheeto-stained handshake. She was a slenderbutch woman who prided herself on professionalism in her line ofwork—whenever she was on the job at Sugar & Spice, she wore asimple black apron with their logo over a button-up with a funkytie. “What’s in the box?” Griselda asked in such a smooth voice Inearly swooned. I’d had a crush on Griselda when I first met her,but I had to admit she and Francesca were well suited for eachother, however reluctantly.
“Goose vampire,” I said, setting it down infront of the counter.
“Of course it is. Never a normal day aroundhere, is there?” she asked, winking. I resisted the urge toproperly fix my hair and makeup in an enchanted mirror.
“I smelled Francesca’s magic on it,”Beatrice explained. “Or at least, I’m pretty sure. It has some ofMartha’s magic mixed in, because…oh, this is a complicated story.Maybe you should explain, Olympia, dear.”
Unfortunately for Beatrice, I was even lessarticulate than usual in Griselda’s presence. “Maybe we can talk inthe back?” I asked, my voice unusually squeaky. “Is Francescaaround?”
“Hon?” Griselda called.
Francesca propped a door open with her footand glanced out. There was a hint of hot pink hair and a patch ofdark-toned skin through the crack. “I’m harvesting warts—what isit?”
“People out here for you.”
A boot kicked the door the rest of the wayopen. Francesca wore the same simple apron as Griselda, a sundressemblazoned with lilies underneath. On each hand she bore a thickyellow glove coated in some kind of goo. She pushed the hair of herhalf-shaved head out of her eyes with a forearm and smiled at uswith an overwhelmingly kind grin that undoubtedly had wonGriselda’s heart in the first place. “Send ’em in.”
We shuffled behind the front counter asGriselda’s attention was pulled by another customer. “Alright,Olympia,” Beatrice said in a matronly voice that insinuated shehadn’t nearly just murdered me in her car. “Give her the rundown.”
“I was helping out this vampire withsome…chores…and then she showed up with her memories missing,” Isaid. While I spoke, Francesca slid off her gloves and washed herhands in an industrial-looking sink. “I tried to feed her a potionthat Martha from the farmer’s market made to restore her memoriesand now she is a goose.”
“Who is it?” Francesca asked. “You shouldprobably report that to the vampire council, too.”
“Um, yeah, about that. They’re actually onmy ass. I was hoping to just revert her without letting them knowthis ever happened.” I sighed in disappointment that she hadn’tbeen in-the-know already. “So you didn’t remove her memories forsome reason?”
Francesca dried her hands and stared at theceiling. “Now why would I do that?”
“Maybe a potion or a hex you made thatsomeone bought here?” Beatrice asked. “It’s going to be hard tofigure out the origin, Olympia, if it was from a spell someonepurchased.”
“We keep pretty diligent logs, but Iwouldn’t sell something premade that’s so malicious,” Francescainsisted. Griselda had finished helping that customer and reenteredthe back room. “We only sell the components for spells like that,but I don’t see how you would smell me on them. Right, honey?”
“Right,” Griselda said. Her customer servicevoice was gone, though. The women exchanged a knowing look that Ididn’t like at all.
“So no one can explain why she lost hermemories?” I asked.
“I don’t know what happened there,”Francesca said, staring directly at Griselda instead of me.
“Maybe we can at least turn her back into avampire?” Beatrice suggested. “Perhaps we can get some answers fromher when she’s not a bird anymore.”
Griselda tapped her foot. “Do we know whatwas in that potion Martha made?” I handed the vial to her from myback pocket, half expecting that it would be shattered from the carride. Griselda squinted at the label. “I’ll be right back,” shesaid.
