“Dante,” he said carelessly.
She squinted. “And how did you find me?”
“I? I didn't find anyone,” his voice stayed indifferent. “You yourself appeared in front of me.”
“I don't quite under–”
That's it. A strange feeling, as if she had met this man before, these eyes were familiar to her. It washim. In the dark alley the other day. She hurried to leave and not bring trouble on herself, but apparently she didn't succeed… in fact, Violette would consider herself terribly unlucky, because the chain of events that led her to being late in the shop that day and meeting this man was startling. And now he found her and came to her shop. And he somehow knew about her father.
“You followed me!” She recoiled. “How did you even know about my father?!”
“Too many questions. When you need something, you can find anyone and anything,” he casually stated.
“Do you know that's called harassment? You are insane!”
“Call it that if you wish, but it's not quite true. I used publicly available information.”His voice remained as calm as a water on the windless day.
“That literally doesn't change the situation.”
“Who cares? Life is unpredictable and it's what makes it more interesting. If not me then others will come to you and offer you something, at the best it will be a 'wonderful miracle working' perfume for such a ridiculous price,” he mocked. “My offer is better, don't you think so? You want to know who I am and why you should trust me, but how do you know if you do not try?”
“Why me?” Her brows pulled together, not breaking eye contact.
“I told you, the walls of this store are saturated with despair and broken hopes, and you are the one who brought it here.” He swirled the bottle with a pink liquid once again before it rolled over the table and almost fell off the other side, but Violette stopped it with her fingers.
“I'm not desperate,” she earnestly let out and moved the bottle back to its place.
“Oh, really?” He pushed a book on the table and it fell to her side of the floor.
“Hey! What the Hell?” Violette scowled irritably and bent down to pick it up.
Dante leaned over the counter and snatched a notebook with a purple cover from the bottom shelf.
“A recipe for a tincture for sandy illness,” he read out loud, opening the book. Violette looked up, her eyes widened.
“Spell against fatigue that gives energy,” he continued. “A recipe for returning strength. Oh, and here's the shopping list. You better not lose it, however I don't recommend you buy anything from the bakery on Luna de Medeis Street. I saw the pastry chef was picking his nose.”
“Give it back, it's personal!” she snapped and leaned over the counter towards the stranger, ending up too close to his face.
His hand moved the notebook away as she tried to take it back. The corners of his eyes raised in insolence, looking down at her.
“And in the corner lies an old book of spells by Agness Fumehex 'How to defeat the ailments that knock on your door: A manual for potion makers',” his words came out playful, as if he was toying with her.
“It's not funny,” she fumed and stood back on both legs, moving away from him.
“I'm not joking. It's you who's denying you need help.” The notebook fell onto the counter.
“I’m not denying it, I am just–” she suddenly stopped, reminding herself to not overshare. “I'm just confused.”
“You have a notebook with pages covered in recipes and formulas about curses and diseases. On the shelf behind you are three different books about dark spells and a manual on fighting the dark arts, and none of those are goods for sale, at least not in this store. Near the table on the right – glass jars of potions which smell like cypress, begonias, andtears of silver unicorn – main ingredients in healing elixirs. A blue thistle, known for its salubrity, sticks out from a bag on the chair. And between pages of this book,” he pointed out the book with a berry cover by the basket of potions, “there's a ticket for a lecture by Lumeria Lepos on ancient maladies.”
“You're either very attentive to details or crazy. And I think the second is closer to the truth.”
“Call it a talent.” He shrugged.
“I said what I said,” she declared, her face muscles tensed, letting him know that her mind wasn't about to change.
“I'll give you some time to think.” He reached into his pocket and a second later placed a tiny vial of purple-pink liquid in front of her.
