Cauldrons and Cat Tails (Moonvale Matches #2)

1. Kizzi

CHAPTER 1

Kizzi

“ O ld Gods spare me,” I grumbled through clenched teeth as I fought to yank my arms out of my cauldron.

Brown tar-like sludge clung to my fingers and splattered onto my worktable as I tried to extract my hands from another failed cauldron concoction. I was elbow-deep in the monstrosity, and it was holding onto me for dear life.

Something went terribly awry. Again.

Gods damned sprites .

Sprites had been making my life a living Hell’s Realm for months. Years, really. Almost my whole life. The wretched, tiny creatures ruined everything for me.

I’d done anything I could think of to try to get them to leave me alone. I performed rituals. I set up salt barricades. I brewed repellent tonics. I called in other witches for help.

Nothing worked. They always came back.

The supposed-to-be-energizing-potion refused to release me even after I yanked my arms free from the cauldron, sticking to my skin like it wanted to swallow me whole. I dunked my hands in a bucket of steaming water, scrubbing my skin raw with my strongest cleansing soap.

My forearms burned like the heat of Aldova’s dual suns, but the slime slowly dissolved. The bucket of water turned murky, like a stagnant, smelly swamp. It was gag worthy, truly.

A long-fingered hand flitted into my field of view, startling me from my efforts. I flinched so hard my heart nearly stopped, probably shaving a few days off my lifespan.

“You’ve got a little something there…” The finger swiped across my forehead, gathered a chunk of the sludge. “You’re lucky your hair is tied back today, or it would be a mess. I bet we would have to cut it off.”

Fiella, my best friend and the local vampire trinket shop owner, examined her sludgey finger with a grimace, her fangs gleaming in the warm enchanted light illuminating from the ceiling sconce. “What is this? It’s disgusting.” She wiped her finger on a cloth, and then wiped again—harder this time. Only some of the substance came off onto the fabric. She glowered at it.

Her vibrant blue hair (that I had made possible, you’re welcome, Fiella) was twisted back into a loose braid that flowed over her shoulder like water. A few strands escaped and hung by her face and the nape of her neck. Her long, lean figure was draped in a comfy-looking tunic and trousers and short black boots adorned her feet. The soles must’ve been enchanted or something because they didn’t make a peep when she walked in.

“Gods! You’re as quiet as a wraith, make a noise next time.” I resisted the urge to clutch my thundering heart—this tunic was too cute to ruin with slimy cauldron remnants.

“You just have bad hearing. I walked in here like a normal folk,” she grumbled.

“Whatever. You seem freakishly sneaky to me.” I glanced at Fiella as she stepped around my worktable. “Wait—no, don’t touch that!” I swatted her hand away from the basket she was about to pull off a stool.

She froze, the color draining from her already pale cheeks. “Kizziah Cedarton, what is in this basket?” She leaned over hesitantly, trying to glance inside. “It better not be what I think it is.”

“You’re using my full name right now? It’s not that serious.” I snatched the basket and shoved it under a cubby, my wet hands leaving a trail of water in their wake. The grasshoppers inside chirped loudly.

“Ugh, bugs!” Fiella visibly shivered. “I hate those fucking things.”

“I know you do, you big blood-sucking baby. They’re gone now. You can sit. Just… don't touch anything.” I resumed my station before my cauldron, considering my options. The massive bowl was half-full of roiling, twitching brown sludge. It was somewhere between a liquid and a solid and seemed to have a mind of its own. Considering how aggressively it had clung to my skin, it would be impossible to clean up.

I crossed my arms over my chest, tapping my foot in frustration.

Paper rustled behind me; the scent of caramelized sugar bloomed in the air. My mood lifted immediately.

“You really are a good friend.” I whirled around, reaching a hand out expectantly.

Fiella paused mid chew. “You think these are for you?” She snorted. “These are mine. Get your own.” Sugar fell from her (still somewhat messy) fingers and settled onto her lap. She brushed it off absentmindedly. The particles settled on the floor like a fine dusting of snow.

My jaw dropped. “You come into my shop to chow down on pastries and don’t bring me any? You’re the–” She pulled out another pouch with a low chuckle and tossed it in my direction.

“I was just messing with you. I would never—I am not a demon.” She chuckled darkly. “Lemon scones today. They’re incredible.”

I caught the pouch and yanked it open, inhaling the delectable fumes. “Thank the Gods. I almost cast a curse on you.”

I looked around for a clean cloth—I would be damned if I ate anything my grimy hands touched. Sure, I had scrubbed them hard enough to draw blood, but they still felt tainted. A small white handkerchief came to my rescue.

The scone was still warm, perfectly crispy with a tangy bite of citrus. I groaned around my mouthful. “Did Mitz make this one?” Mitz ran the bakery in town, and that alone made her one of my favorite folk in the entire realm.

Fiella nodded, swallowing heavily and taking a swig from her steaming mug before speaking. “Of course. You think these angelic creations came from the coffee shop? Nope, that’s good old fashioned fae handiwork.”

“She’s Old Gods blessed.” I shoved the rest of the scone in my mouth with a happy hum, tucking the handkerchief into my tunic.

“So, care to explain the situation in the corner over there?” The vampire pointed to the cauldron steaming menacingly, mocking me. I glared at it.

“Those damned sprites again. I was trying to brew up a large batch of energizing potions, they must’ve snuck some extra ingredients in when I wasn’t looking. I don’t even know what it’s become at this point, but it makes me nervous. And it’s going to be a nightmare to clean up.”

A large bubble rose to the surface and popped, splattering miniscule specks of liquid onto every nearby surface. I stuck my tongue out at it while flipping it my middle finger.

Fiella smoothed her hands over her arms and shivered. “I can feel a lot of magic in here. More than usual. Did you put extra oomph into it or something?”

I shrugged. “I might’ve. It was a big batch—I was planning to store the extras to prepare for when Mayor Tommins inevitably clears me out again.” He really bought a ridiculous amount of them. It was a miracle that his heart hadn’t given out by now, that much stimulant could not be good for anyone.

“If you say so. It just… feels weird.”

I flapped my hand at her. “You worry too much. It feels perfectly normal here to me.”

But that wasn’t necessarily true. I always tuned out the magic around me, I would be overwhelmed if I didn’t. I did notice that my spells were coming more naturally in recent weeks, though. My potions, too, took less strain. I assumed I was just becoming more talented. I was an excellent witch… But maybe they were coming a little too easily.

Magic was a tricky thing. It was everywhere, sure, but only in remnants. Magic wasn’t nearly as abundant as it was when the Old Gods roamed the realm. Or so the texts said. These days, it was a limited resource. Crumbs of magic could be found in old relics, clinging to trees, gathering in quiet places. It condensed in areas of extreme emotion, it slithered through forgotten corners of the realm. Wisps of it followed around every living creature, some folk more than others, but most didn’t realize it. Witches were the most attuned.

Most of the remaining magic in the realm could be found within the bodies of the magical folk—witches, wizards, and the few lucky others.

Fiella stood, breaking me from my thoughts. “No offense, but I need to get out of here. I’m afraid I’m going to touch something I’m not supposed to in this mess.” She looked around distastefully. “And that thing is giving me the heebie jeebies.”

She glared at my cauldron, flashing her fangs in a threatening snarl.

I laughed at her antics. “Fair enough! Have a good day! Sell lots of shit and smooch your man for me!” I blew her an exaggerated kiss, grimacing when I realized I’d touched my lips directly to my sludge-tainted hand.

“Sure, Kiz. I love you to the moons!”

“I love you to the suns! Even if you’re a pansy about a harmless ruined cauldron brew.”

She chuckled under her breath as she left, pulling the door shut behind her with a muffled thud. She opened it a moment later, sticking her head inside. “Oh! I almost forgot. What are you bringing to the annual Moonvale potluck? It’s only a few days away.”

I had completely forgotten about the potluck. With all the madness happening lately, it had slipped my mind. “Shit! Something easy, I guess. Maybe stew?”

Fiella snorted. “You think anyone will eat your stew when Ginger will be bringing hers? Not likely. You better think of something else. I’m bringing blood smoothies.”

I gagged. “Nobody is going to drink those except for bloodsuckers. That’s revolting.”

Fiella flashed a fanged grin. “That’s exactly the point. More for me. And Redd too, I guess. And the others. Whatever, there aren’t any rules against it.”

“I’ll figure something out. Don’t worry.” My mind whirled through the possibilities.

“Meet at Ginger’s Pub for dinner?”

“Of course.” I would definitely not be cooking for myself.

Fiella gave me a thumbs-up and shut the door again, heading to her trinket shop. She was always a late riser, starting her days when the rest of us were already up and moving.

If I was being honest, I was a horrendous cook. I could brew potions and poultices and tonics like nobody’s business, but the edible stuff was a completely different story. Flavor was the hardest part—no amount of magic could improve the taste of something foul.

Unfortunately, a new rule had been implemented for the annual Moonvale potluck this year and it was very clear; you could only indulge in the feast if you brought something to contribute.

I would certainly bring something . Would it be delicious? Definitely not. But would it be edible? Probably. Maybe.

Hopefully.

I returned to my largest cauldron, planting my hands on my hips in contemplation.

It would take a lot of work to clean the horrendous sludge out of the bowl, and I was not in the mood for that kind of manual labor at the moment. I shoved the cauldron into the corner, out of the way, so I could deal with it another day.

I was huffing and puffing and glistening with sweat by the time I got the massive bowl far enough out of the way to avoid impacting my workflow. I could have sworn it was much heavier than it should have been. Like it was filled with rocks instead of slimy potion.

I dusted my hands off, proud of myself for such an impressive physical feat, and returned to my lists of daily tasks. I would have to brew my potions in my smaller cauldrons now that my favorite cauldron was temporarily out of commission, but that wasn’t a problem. Only a minor inconvenience.

I refastened my green wavy hair back into a tighter bun, pulled a fresh apron over my tunic, and got to work.

I paid extra attention to my ingredients, triple checking everything and watching the cauldrons like a hawk to ensure no surprises were added.

Damned sprites.

M y biceps were aching and my back was straining from the effort by the time I finished the day’s brews; a new batch of energizing tonics for Mayor Tommins, ten sachets of healing poultice for the healing clinic, a pain reducing potion for the coven leader and oldest witch in town, Ani, a pouch of sobering dust for Ginger’s Pub, and a bucket of magical blue dye for the clothing shop.

I set off to make my delivery rounds.

Some folk in Moonvale chose to come by the shop to retrieve their orders, but if I had the chance, I preferred to deliver them. Especially these days, when every extra moment they lingered in my shop was an extra opportunity for those damned sprites to get their grubby mitts on them.

I strapped my heavily laden satchel onto my back, glared at the cauldron in the corner one more time for good measure, and slipped out the front door of my apothecary shop, locking it behind me.

I had named the shop after myself, of course; Kizzi’s. It was entirely practical. It was short and simple and got the job done. Everyone in Moonvale knew exactly who I was, and they knew to come to me for all their witchy or pharmaceutical needs.

My first stop was to the healing clinic, Moonvale Medical. It was in town square, close to my own shop, only a short walk away.

“Velline!” I called as I pushed the door open with a rusty squeak of hinges. “Are you in?”

The gorgeous angel flitted over to me, ridding herself of a mask and gloves and tossing them into a waste bin. Her glimmering wings flared gracefully behind her. “Perfect timing! Thank you!”

Velline’s shoulder-length white hair was smooth and straight, framing her face perfectly. Her skin glinted with a healthy silver glow. It was nice to see her looking so bright, especially after the hardships Moonvale endured during the freeze season.

I dropped my satchel onto the floor and knelt to retrieve her order. I pulled all ten sachets of healing poultice out one by one, inspecting them and subtly sniffing their contents before setting them in Velline’s waiting hands.

I couldn’t risk any more mishaps. They were bad for business.

Damned sprites .

The sachets smelled how they should, like licorice root and lavender, and they appeared to be tied exactly how I had left them. Thank the gods.

I stood, brushing the dust off my knees and pulling my bag back onto my shoulder. “Alright, there you go! You should be covered for a while. If you need any more, you know where to find me.”

“Thanks, Kizzi. You really are a gem to this town; I hope you know that.” Velline stated matter-of-factly. My cheeks warmed at the kind words.

“It’s nothing, just a little mixing and brewing.” I coughed awkwardly. “Anyways! How have things been here? Any crazy illnesses recently? Old Man Wilbur still driving you up the wall?”

Old Man Wilbur was an elf, somewhere around seven hundred years old, and he was an absolute piece of work. He was once the primary healer in Moonvale, but he was slowly passing that responsibility onto Velline so he could have more time to himself. What he did with that time, nobody knew for sure.

“You know what, it’s been calm, actually. I shouldn’t say that too loudly, lest the fates hear me, but things have settled into a pretty normal rhythm.” She tossed one of the sachets idly back and forth. Her silver fingernails caught the light and sparkled prettily. “Old Man Wilbur is exactly how you’d expect him to be.” She glanced at me conspiratorially. “But I shouldn’t speak ill of him. He has been an excellent mentor.”

I snorted. Velline was always so polite, so sickeningly nice . She didn’t have a mean bone in her body.

It was baffling. I adored her for it.

A hacking cough from the back of the room interrupted the conversation.

“Duty calls—my patient is awake. I better go tend to him. I’ll see you around!” Velline flitted away before I could respond, wings trailing in her wake.

I peeked around the corner, hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever was sick today, but Velline tugged the curtain closed before I could see anything identifying.

Bummer. I loved knowing what everyone was up to. Sticking my nose into other folks’ business was my favorite pastime.

I headed off to Ginger’s Pub next.

The smell of lingering ale and warm vegetable broth wafted over me as I opened the door to the pub. I inhaled deeply, loving the way the smell comforted me. It wasn’t necessarily the best smell in the realm, but it was familiar, and it wrapped around me like a calming embrace.

Early in the day, Ginger’s Pub was practically empty. There were a few patrons enjoying a lunch or a goblet of wine but most of Moonvale saved their pub visits for the evening. Today, only a handful of folk were sitting at tables, chatting quietly.

“Hello!” I called out. “Are you here, Ginny?”

I waited for a few seconds, wandering idly toward the bar. I didn’t see the faun anywhere, nor did I hear the telltale clack of her hooves on the stone floor. I huffed out a sigh, plopping my satchel on the bar top to give my tired shoulder some relief.

“Ginger?” I shouted, louder this time. “Delivery!”

“Hang on!” a voice called from the kitchen, deep and booming. Certainly not Ginger. I leaned my hip against the stool, tapping my foot in a quick rhythm. I wasn’t necessarily in a hurry, but I didn’t like to be kept waiting. It made me snappy.

Tandor, the barkeep and Ginny’s most loyal employee, bustled through the swinging kitchen door, two bowls in each hand. He used his shoulder to plow the door open. It was an impressive feat, if I was being honest. I certainly would have spilled something.

He glanced in my direction, cracking a quick smile when he met my eyes before hurrying to drop the bowls off to the two humans sitting in the far corner. I tapped my foot faster.

The orc was massive, with skin the color of springtime moss and hair so shiny it made me jealous. He was also wasting my time.

I pulled the large pouch of sober dust from my satchel and dropped it onto the counter. Ginger had arranged a regular delivery of the stuff, and she went through it quickly. One handful, blown in a folk’s face, had the ability to stop a blubbering drunk from crying, or if Ginger was in a bad mood, snatch a pleasant buzz away from an annoying patron. It was one of my favorite recipes that I had created, with its mild stimulating effect and fun method of delivery.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Tandor! Ginny owes me five silvers for this one, did she leave that out somewhere?” I leaned over the counter, looking for anything that might resemble a payment. Unfortunately, nothing did. I glanced over at Tandor, but he was chatting with the humans, smiling and laughing at something the man with long blonde hair had said.

I sighed. Slow folk.