Epilogue Two

E lwyn Norwood groaned and rested his balding head in his hands. This was a disaster. The BrewFest had always been Whynot’s biggest attraction for witches and warlocks across the magical community far and wide. They came from all over to enter and showcase their talents and win the prize. Not just money, but the prestige of being the best at potion making. Now, it appeared there was sabotage or dastardly deeds at work.

Did one of the contestants screw up their own potion? Did they sabotage another contestant to ensure a win? Was it sheer bad luck? No one knew but their fail-safe measures had actually failed and now, their testers were infected with potions when they should have been able to drink the antidote and be returned to normal when the festival was over. Love potions. Luck potions. Laughing potions. Crying potions. Plants were growing at an alarming rate in the town center from the harvest potion. People were being extra polite everywhere, creating more confusion about whether to greet someone or when it was polite to leave.

The town was in utter chaos. And it all started with the Dupree sisters and their damned love potion. It seems to have worked out okay for Maeve Whisper and Saul Grimsbane, though it could have gone wrong. No one needed a pissed off grizzly bear in Grimm Mawr.

“Are you upset, Uncle Elwyn?”

And then there was his idiot nephew, with his love of stating the obvious. Dilwyn Norwood, his sister’s dumbass son who barely passed the magical academy. She had begged him to hire her son when he got fired from every other job. After all, why not use the perks of being mayor for a little nepotism here and there? He hired a nymph as his secretary and not because of her typing skills, which were atrocious. But she offered some value while Dilwyn was beyond utterly useless.

“What gave it away, Dilwyn?”

Instead of understanding the sarcasm, it flew right over his head, like so many other things. “Your head in your hands. The groaning. And your muttering. What do you need me to do?”

“Shutting up would be a good start. And maybe not doing anything. That way at least you won’t make it worse,” Elwyn sharply replied, knowing the one talent his nephew had was screwing things up worse than they already were. He really didn’t need more trouble.

“Do you have the list of the testers and the potions they were given?”

Dilwyn looked embarrassed. “It got wet, and the ink ran. I tried to recreate it, but I don’t think I captured everyone.”

Elwyn closed his eyes and prayed to the goddess for patience. “You were supposed to spell the paper to repel liquid, Dilwyn.”

“I tried, but I guess it failed.” Dilwyn looked down, a faint blush staining his cheeks.

Elwyn let out a heavy sigh. “Give me what you have and get out of here. I’ll figure it out. See if we can salvage this catastrophe.”

Dilwyn closed the door to the office quietly, fuming. His uncle would get his when his true family came for him. They promised to reward him if he helped them with a few minor tasks. No one noticed Dilwyn, not even his own uncle. But he’d regret it. As would everyone in Grimm Mawr. Someday.

He would have the last laugh. He had spelled the paper and had a copy for himself. But his uncle didn’t need to know that. Even an idiot could do a water repellent spell.

A giggle burst out of him and his uncle’s secretary, a female nymph whom his uncle was fucking on the side, gave him a glare. Okay, maybe it wasn’t an evil mastermind laugh, but even the nymph wouldn’t reject him after this.

His aunt might appreciate an anonymous note about his uncle’s infidelities, though. He had some pent-up snitch energy that needed expelling while he waited for his plan to come to fruition.