Growing peonies was another matter, but I had that well in hand. When the spell had soaked into the vase and the plants, I smiled and flicked my fingers, shaking the rest of the magic away.
My audience clapped and whistled, making me laugh. “Cute, guys.” I waved my hands at them. “Let’s hurry up and get the shop cleaned up so we can make this delivery.”
“If I had a scorecard, it would be a ten out of ten! You could ruffle my blooms any day!” Moira called, as everyone scrambled out of their seats.
She went for a broom. Tess floated in the air and investigated every nook and cranny for any weaknesses in the wards and protection spells woven throughout the shop. Ash brushed his hands over the bottom of all the potted plants, checking all the roots and nutrition. Today, he winced only once when he touched one of my aloe plants. He picked up the small pot and hid it behind his back to take with him when he retreated to the back. I pretended not to notice. Ash would “unlove” it for meand return the plant to the front once he’d depleted some of the magic I’d added to its roots.
Normally all was well, but when I first started siphoning my magic into the flora, he had to move some plants away from the brunt of my attention with a gentle warning. “Sometimes you can love something a little too much, Evie.”
As an apology, I had Ash double-checking all the plants a few times a week to ensure I wasn’t going too overboard with my “love,” as he put it. I was getting better, but sometimes I added a little too much oomph to one versus spreading it out to all my plants.
I counted out the registers and wiped down the area before picking up my glass mister and paying some extra attention to the orchids blooming in the window. Fredericksburg wasn’t nearly as humid as Seattle was, so some of the plants I’d brought with me needed a little extra TLC while they acclimated. And some, like the tender orchids before me, never acclimated at all, and I was keeping them alive by sheer force of magic.
It was a small sacrifice considering how long it took them all to re-acclimate to me when I returned with the new magic boiling in my veins.
For a long while, I thought I’d never be able to use my Floromancy again, but all it took was time.
And even though my magic had eventually come back stronger than ever, time would never heal my wounds from that night or the changes the attack had wrought in my soul. But every day I woke up still myself, stillEvie, I counted it as a blessing.
Chapter
Two
For everyone else, it was too late to plant peonies in the season, but the laws of nature, at least in this regard, did not apply to me. Next spring, Hattie would have peonies of all sizes and varieties popping out of the ground in a stunning riot of color. She asked me what I was doing, and I told her I was just adding some nutrients I’d brought over to her soil. Hattie hadn’t questioned me, though her eyes had lingered on me for a moment too long.
Most people in Joy Springs thought I was a nutter, so it didn’t bother me too much, but Hattie’s gaze was a little too eagle-eyed for my comfort. Maybe magically boosting her soil and plant bulbs was a bad idea, but I hoped by spring she’d be so pleased by the display, she’d forget about the strange florist who’d done it for her.
The delivery and bulb planting didn’t take more than an hour, so I had plenty of time to burn before the restaurants and shops closed. My stomach had been growling for a while now, another side effect of the magic burning through me, and my favorite place to eat was close by.
With a wave and a promise to deliver Hattie’s next bouquet in a week, I hurried to my bicycle, stowing my empty canvasbag into the basket hooked to the handlebars. As transportation went, it wasn’t much, but it kept me in good shape, and I didn’t have to pay a car note. The basket did double duty as my foraging container and unhooked whenever I needed it.
The Thistle and Thread Cafe was an adorable tearoom and restaurant that doubled as a potion shop once all the tourists were tucked safely in their beds. I’d never made use of their offerings, but it never stopped them from offering.
When I first spotted the place, I thought it was adorable, but the name was a constant reminder of the thistle tattoo on my arm, hiding the secret of my blood. For a while, I avoided the cafe, even going so far as to cross the road to avoid inhaling the delicious scents coming from within.
That was until Marnie and Twila, the two Hedgewitch sisters who owned it, stopped by with a basket of still-warm blueberry scones drizzled with lemon icing and a pot of Lavender Fog tea, lightly sweetened with wildflower honey, and topped with a touch of blueberry creamer.
After the first bite of that damn scone, I was a goner.
Even after all this time, the scents coming from inside made all my stress lift from my shoulders and float away. I pushed open the door and smiled at Marnie.
She was the smaller, more boisterous of the sisters. Marnie smiled and waved, motioning me over to her. Behind her, two large, wicked-looking knitting needles clicked and clacked, quickly knitting a baby blue blanket with fuzzy yarn. I’d asked her once how she got away with it with the number of humans coming in and out of her cafe. She shrugged, her pale blue eyes twinkling, patted my hand, and said, “Darling, they want to see the magic, not believe it. Joy Springs is television magic to them, tricks of the lights, tricks of the camera. They believe the needles are mechanical, so that’s what they become.”
It made sense in a terrible way, I supposed. Humans let an awful lot of things slide, and when things got a little too real, the government always slid in with some slick explanation of things like EMP pulses or NASA balloons.
A small chalkboard resting by the register announced today’s special, the swirling handwriting and drawings created with brightly colored chalk. Lavender and Earl Grey muffins, French onion soup, and Reuben sandwiches.
I rubbed my hands together in glee. “That soup and sandwich sound delicious. Are there any left over?”
Marnie’s dimple peeked from her plump cheek. “Always for you, darling Evie.”
She rang me up, and when I frowned at the price, Marnie waved it away. “It’s always the same song and dance. We will never charge you full price, so stop insisting!”
I sighed and handed her less than half of the price listed on the board.
Marnie reached over and patted me gently on the cheek. “I’ll bring you something special to drink. Now go on over and find a seat.”
“Thanks, Marnie.”
