“Why would you design a ward that could be broken at all?”
“All wards are breakable, my dear.” The crone’s thin lips parted in a smile, revealing yellowed teeth. “Have you come to steal from me?”
“No. I don’t steal. I’m a knight.”
The deep lines grew even deeper. “You’re here to shut me down?”
My gaze swept the hothouse. I could understand her concern. The crone would be arrested—and possibly killed—on the spot. “No. I’m not here about your illegal flowers. I found a petal. Someone left wolfsbane at a crime scene. I’d like to know who. Since there aren’t many places it can be obtained, it made sense to start with someone who grows it.”
She jutted out her strong chin. “Who sent you?”
“Minerva.” I produced the petal.
“Why not use it for a locator spell?”
“You know why. It’s my only piece of evidence. If the locator spell fails, there goes my petal. The old-fashioned way is better.”
“As it often is.” She studied the petal. “Yes, it’s possible it came from here. Wolfsbane is a popular trade, as I’m sure you can imagine.”
“People use it for protection against vampires?”
“Oh no. Most people don’t realize it’s useful in that way. My clients range from pub owners to universities to werewolves who’d prefer not to shift.”
“Any chance you sold any recently?” The petal wasn’t dried, which meant the flower was relatively new.
“As I’m sure you can understand, I don’t keep any records. Buyers come and go and that’s the end of it.”
“But surely you’d remember recent buyers of wolfsbane.” She was old, but it was abundantly clear her memory was intact.
Marguerite chewed her chapped lip, regarding me. “There were several. A regular client. He owns a pub nearby called The Pig and Pony. Shifter clientele. They suffered from an onslaught of brawls until he started using wolfsbane to neutralize them. There was also a university student from Kings. Poor dear wanted to rid herself of an unwanted stalker. Young male wolves can seem quite predatory to a human.” She counted on her fingers. “Then there was Rudy, another regular. He married a human and his wife doesn’t like when he shifts.”
“Maybe she shouldn’t have married a werewolf.”
“The things we do for love, eh? Speaking of which…” The crone hobbled forward and reached out a pruned hand to touch my cheek. “You favor her. I’m sure that’s been critical to your survival. If you looked like him…” She inhaled deeply and shook her head.
I jerked back. “What are you talking about?”
“Your parents, my dear. Do keep up.”
“You know my father?”
“No, but I met your mother once. She came to me for assistance, as many in her condition do.”
“It must’ve been thirty years ago. How do you remember what she looked like?”
The crone’s eyes softened. “There are some clients you never forget, especially one as learned as your mother. She and I spoke of days long past. Of a world forgotten.”
That definitely sounded like my mother.
“What kind of help did she want from you?”
“A potion to disguise her scent. She didn’t want to be found.”
She worried the vampire would come looking for her and find me. “Did you help her?”
“Naturally. She had to bathe in it once a week. I gave her the formula so she could continue to make it on her own. I made sure the ingredients weren’t too scarce. Took a bit of crafting but I managed.”
My mother had done so much to protect me. More than I ever knew.
The crone touched a strand of my hair. “You have no idea how fortunate you are. So very few of you survive to adulthood.”
“She didn’t tell you his identity?”
“No, nor did I ask. Safer that way.”
I agreed.
She gave me an appraising look. “I would very much like to read your fortune.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“I insist. Someone like you who has overcome many obstacles…I would like to learn more. To see what might be in store.” She held out her wrinkled hands. “Indulge an old woman.”
I relented. Part of me wanted to spend time with someone who’d met my mother, however briefly. It kept the connection alive.
The crone guided me to an area at the back where potions were stored on a shelf. Two cushioned chairs were separated by a small round table.
She motioned to the chair on the left and I sat. She contemplated the bottles before selecting a squat blue one. She thrust the bottle at me.
“Drink this.”
“How very Alice in Wonderland of you.” I unscrewed the cap and sniffed. “You’re not poisoning me, are you?”
“If I wanted you dead, you’d already be on the floor and your blood drained for research purposes.”
I scrunched my nose. “Nice image.”
She pointed to the line on the bottle. “You drink half. I drink the second half.”
I brought the potion to my lips and drank. “Tastes like chicken.” I handed her the bottle and she finished it in one gulp. This obviously wasn’t her first rodeo.
She smacked her lips. “Sometimes the kick comes later.” On cue, she closed her eyes and her body went rigid.
“Marguerite?”
“Fire! Blood!” Her entire body began to convulse.
Was this normal? I didn’t typically let anyone read me. I’d only made an exception because she already knew what I was.
“A building topples.”
Topples or melted? Was she seeing the past or the future? Would there be more destruction at the hands of this wizard?
“What was done becomes undone,” she continued. “The circle of creation. Destruction.” Her eyes opened and fixed on me, growing rounder. “And you at its center. The eye of a coming storm.”
I was at its center, but only because I’d been foolish enough to accept the work. I should’ve said no and walked away when I had the chance. Too late now.
Suddenly her eyes rolled to the back of her head and white foam gathered at the corners of her mouth. Great. My future was so bleak that I managed to kill the witch reading it.
“Marguerite!” I turned her face to the side and slid my fingers in her mouth to keep her from biting her tongue. I checked her pulse. Too strong. I had to calm her.
Gently I patted her cheek and tried to bring her back to reality. “Marguerite, you’re finished. You can leave the vision behind now.”
The crone coughed and bolted upright. Her almond eyes blinked at me. “You’re in grave danger.”
“Yes, we covered that ground. Fire. Blood. Yada yada.”
The crone’s cracked lips formed a thin line. “If you don’t walk away now, great harm will come to you.”
“Define ‘great harm.’” I mean, as long as it didn’t result in death, I figured I could handle it.
She removed a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped the corners of her mouth. “You’ve survived this long. Don’t piss it away now.”