Dan and Rick handled the table carefully, gently screwing in the base and legs. When it was finished, and they’d turned it right side up, a gasp escaped me.
This was a true piece of art. Shaped almost identical to the original, this one was also made of mahogany, polished and smooth to the touch. The legs were different from the original, hand-turned, and allowing the natural whorls in the wood to shine. But what was so different was the faint hum of magic vibrating from the top.
Moira and Tess came over.
“Stunning,” the vampire murmured.
“It’s a shame such a beautiful tree had to die for you,” Tess said, which was high praise indeed from the banshee.
“My uncle does not cut down trees for his work,” Ash said. “Every tree he uses has fallen naturally on his land. Mahogany trees don’t grow here, so he most likely sourced it from another dryad in another territory. No dryad kills trees for their own use.”
Tess turned to look at him, not saying anything for a long moment. “Everything dies, Ash. Even trees.” She paused.
Ash looked crestfallen.
“Though I will say it is nice to know they’d met their natural end before being made into such a beautiful creation.” Tess gave Ash a hesitant smile and walked back to the register area.
The dryad’s brow furrowed before a wide smile tilted his lips up.
I ducked my head and turned away. Moira winked and went back over to the coffee area.
Banshee/dryad romance. Weird, a little depressing, but also very cute.
Dan cleared his throat. “Would you like to take a final look before you sign off?”
I nodded, even though I had no uncertainty about using the table in my practice. Running my fingers over the wood, the dryad’s power hummed against my skin, friendly and welcoming. I’d like to meet Septimus one day, if only to see Ash around another family member.
The wood responded to my touch, and I almost jerked my fingers away. It was alive, but not. My first table was inert, only a table. This one was a living piece of art.
I signed my name and handed the clipboard back to Dan. “Thank you. Everything looks great.”
Dan nodded and pulled Rick away. “We’ll get out of your hair then. Have a nice day, ma’am.”
When they were gone, everyone gathered around the table.
“I’m not sure I should look at that invoice,” I said in a hushed tone.
Moira chuckled. “Yeah. Your bank account is in danger.”
I had a plan to return Caelan’s money, but it would take a few days to get everything ready. The tuft of his fur had changed things. He’d get his money and a little payback in return.
And if he messed up my table again, I might have to let him see the beast living under my skin.
Chapter
Twenty-One
The Night Market came much faster than I was prepared for, but we all pitched in and finished the preparations a few hours before we had to be there to set everything up. None of us had any idea what to expect, but we’d all attended the market multiple times and knew the crowds would be diverse and heavy.
We’d brought as much as the van would hold, every available inch stuffed to the brim with corsages, boutonnieres, bouquets, wreaths, and all shapes and sizes of vases filled with flowers. Each of us wore a small flower pinned to our chest, primed with separate charms. Mine was a charisma charm. Every word that fell out of my mouth would loosen a customer’s purse strings, only if they were leaning that way in the first place.
Tess’s charm was for patience and forgiveness. She was efficient and competent, but sometimes my girl was dark. If she said something about the dead or someone dying while wearing the charm, customers would be more apt to show her grace.
Moira’s charm was for beauty, not that she needed much help in that department, but men were more apt to buy when charmed by a beautiful saleswoman.
Ash’s charm was one for aesthetics. People who talked to him would want to buy something natural to liven up their space. Green things made you feel better, though most people, even magical, dismissed their power.
Was it cheating? Nope. Every single vendor there would be wearing something similar to ours, and some of their compelling charms would be much more powerful than ours, borderline black magic. We knew this because we frequented the market quite often as customers, and all of us were too powerful to fall prey to such a spell. And we avoided the sellers who strayed too far away from giving someone a gentle nudge versus a punch in the face.
