Dru arches one white eyebrow. “And you’re sure this is blood sugar?”
“I’m fine,” I say again, though now I’m a little nervous. Is it possible that someone drugged me? I think back to what I ate yesterday. A sandwich from the local sandwich shop. An apple from the farmers’ market. There’s no way Dru or Ben could have drugged me, so it has to be just . . . blood sugar? “It’s not magic.”
“You’re going to be a stubborn ass about this, aren’t you?” Dru chuckles. “Fine, have it your way. Just be careful, all right? And if you get overwhelmed or need anything, I’ve written Caliban’s phone number at the top of the list.”
“Not your phone number?”
Dru titters. “Oh my goodness, no. What would I do with a cellular phone?”
Call people? But I just nod, snatch the list and the potion, and head out.
8
REGGIE
A short time later, it becomes obvious that Doris lives a few streets down, so I can deliver her potion last . . . or not at all. The shop listed on the paper is across town, according to my map app, so I call an Uber and study the contents of the list in the back seat. I didn’t even glance at it earlier, too rattled by the big phone number scrawled across the top, as if Dru is just dying for me to call her nephew.
I mean, if I do, it’s going to be for a prank phone call, nothing else. He can fall off a cliff for all I care.
Even if I do think about the way he brushed his fingers gently over my skin last night.
With a little shake of my head, I force myself to concentrate. Lemon, fine. Sugar. Vanilla . . .
I squint. These are the ingredients for the lemon muffins I was eating just this morning. Seriously? She’s not casting spells with that. At the very bottom of the page, she has a few new things written, at least.
Dried horse scrotum
Gecko tails (dried)
Honey-milk (dried)
Baboon hair
Mugwort
Crow’s foot
Debris from a shipwreck
Myrrh
There’s even more on the list, all the weirdness continuing down the page. I flip the list over again, my lip slightly curled with confusion. I can figure out what honey-milk is and the herbs, but how the hell am I supposed to get debris from a shipwreck? Or a freaking dried horse scrotum? Am I being sent on a fool’s errand?
Is this all designed to get me to call Ben? His number is the biggest thing on the page. Or to get me to admit defeat? To say I’m all wrong to be Dru’s assistant? Well, I’m not going to give up. I’m being paid like it’s a difficult job, so I’m going to treat it like one. Whatever she wants me to do, I’ll do it. If that means racing all over town looking for a dried horse scrotum, I guess I’ll do that.
For a moment, I want to text Nick and complain about my weird job. He’s on cloud nine with the new guy, though, and for some reason, it makes me sad. Not because I’m jealous. I’m truly happy for him. It’s just that Nick’s my fallback. If this job doesn’t work out, I know Nick will always let me move back in . . . even if he wants to live alone. Even if he’d rather Sergeant Hotness move in than me. Which, of course, wouldn’t happen for a while. But that’s the part that bothers me—that I’d be crapping on my best friend’s happiness because I can’t get my life together.
It also makes me feel alone all over again.
The Uber pulls up in front of a tiny shop sandwiched between a juice bar and a dry cleaner. It’s called CBD Whee! and there are crystals and all kinds of dream catchers hanging in the windows. I check the address one more time, because there’s no name listed on my sheet, and then send the Uber driver on his way. He’ll be in the area if I have to turn right around again, after all.
I head into the store, and when I open the door, mellifluous chimes tinkle. There’s a heavy scent of incense and patchouli in the air, which makes me gag. This is like every bad cliché come to life. “Hello?”
There’s a small woman about my age behind the counter, her hair pulled into two small black pigtails that bounce against her neck. She takes off a white apron and sets it down behind the counter. “Hey there! How can I help you today? Are you looking for CBD?”
“Um, actually . . .” I stare down at the list again, feeling foolish.
“Ooh,” the woman squeals. “Is that a familiar cuff on you?” She bounds to my side, and she’s shorter than I thought. “Who’s your warlock? Or witch?”
I blink. “Not you, too?”
“Not me, what?” She looks down at her clothes—a baby-pink sundress with a pale, ruffled shrug over it—and then touches her name badge, as if checking she has everything. There’s a recognizable-looking cuff on her wrist, too.
I’d actually forgotten about mine, which is weird, given that it looks heavy and thick. Wearing it, though, it feels light. I absently touch the cuff. “You’ve got a cuff?”
“Oh, yes, but mine is for the Society of Familiars.” She beams at me. “I’m not assigned to anyone specific just yet. Fingers crossed, though!” She twines her fingers together and holds them up.
Oh no. “You’re not into this witch and warlock pretend stuff, too, are you? Are you all part of some live role play that I’ve stumbled into?” A horrible realization hits me. “Is this some reality TV show I’m unaware of? Am I being filmed?”
“You are?” She blinks at me.
“I don’t know, am I?”
We blink at each other in confusion for a moment, and then she gives herself a little shake. “Are you one of those nonbelievers that landed here somehow?” She wags a finger at me, chuckling. “You had me going for a moment.”
“I’m here on behalf of Dru—”
“Oh em gee,” she shrieks, grabbing my hands. “You’re Dru’s new familiar?”
Her enthusiasm is infectious. She just seems so happy about everything. “I guess so? I’m her assistant. She sent me here for some shopping . . . ?”
“That’s awesome!” She practically bounces again. “My name is Penny. I’m with the Society of Familiars!”
That’s the second time she’s brought them up. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what that is.”
Her jaw drops. “You . . . you’re not with the society?”
“Um, should I be?”
“Yes,” she cries, all excitement. “You absolutely should be!” Penny’s eyes go wide. “This is so exciting. You’re a rogue familiar! How on earth did you get the job if not through the society?”
Penny’s enthusiasm is warm and sincere, and even if she’s buying into this weirdness, I can’t help but like her. I think it might be impossible not to. She seems so full of joy. She watches me with a bright expression, and it makes it easier to answer. “I replied to an ad in the paper.”
“Shut up!” she shrieks. “You did not!”
“I really, really did.”
Her expression grows wistful, and she clasps her hands under her chin. “I’ve been waiting to get assigned to someone for ages. Is it a dream? Is she teaching you so much? Dru’s so respected!”
“Um.” I lean in. “Just between you and me, I’m not really sure I believe in all this stuff.” It’s starting to weird me out, how a perfect stranger is totally into this witchcraft stuff. “You do know magic’s not real, right?”
She looks around the empty shop, then grabs my hand and drags me with her. “Come on. The door will chime if someone comes in. It’s spelled.”
“It has a bell on it,” I point out. “Right against the door. I saw it when I came in.”
“And a spell,” Penny agrees, undeterred. “We can talk in the back, where it’s safe.”
I glance around, but the rest of the small shop is empty. There’s a counter with a few glass containers inside it, but it looks pretty empty. The walls are fairly bare, too, the only things hanging for decoration a poster with a kitten on a branch (Hang in there!) and a large advertisement for a CBD company. And a few dream catchers, of course.