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Chapter Two

Chapter Two

The young woman who'd just stepped inside my store froze in place, the smile fading from her face as she took in both of our less than friendly expressions.

She curled, pulling her arms into her chest as she obviously debated just sliding back out the door again.

True, I wasn't built for customer service.

After a beat of awkward silence, Maverick straightened up. Then he dropped the murderous lilt to his expression and replaced it with a friendly, slightly flirty smile. The smile continued to curl his lips as he turned towards our potential customer.

"Welcome to Wanda's Witchery," he called out.

"Oh, thanks," the girl nervously replied.

"What can I help you with today? Are you looking for anything in particular? For a special occasion, maybe?" Maverick continued, and I had to admit, he'd come a long way in the customer service department. He'd come a lot further than I had, anyway.

At that thought, I managed to keep the scowl off my face as the customer slowly straightened back out of her anxious curl, like a flower unfurling towards the sun. It was times like this when I had to grudgingly remind myself why I'd brought Maverick on in the first place. He was sarcastic, difficult, temperamental, yes… but he was also weirdly good with people. Especially women. It was probably a survival instinct from growing up in the coven, but still.

At first, I'd hired him because I'd needed someone to handle the day shift, since I was doing my best to look like a real vamp, and nothing ruined that illusion more than bursting into flames in the sun. But after Maverick had started working in the store, my sales had gone way up. And that wasn't just because he also assisted me in making our products. Nope, as it turned out, Maverick had a way with women…

Who knew?

I drifted back behind the counter, content to leave Maverick to it. Feeling trapped and frustrated tended to leave me snappy, and as much as I might want to let some customers know exactly what I thought about them, that usually wasn't something that led to a successful sale.

The little wound on my finger had stopped bleeding a while ago, and it had stopped hurting even before that. Part of me still wanted to put a bandaid on it, though, just to spite Maverick. That seemed a little petty, even for me, so I pretended to tidy up while he chatted with our customer.

The woman was a young blond, probably in her twenties, if I had to guess. The way she was shyly smiling up at my cousin made me want to heave, but I choked the vomit back. Because I was a professional.

Poor girl.

If only she knew how futile flirting with Maverick was. The truth was that Maverick had never had a successful relationship that lasted more than two months, as far as I was aware, anyway. Well, that was, until he married his best friend, Chief Taliyah Morgan, to save her from some arranged faerie marriage nonsense. And I was fairly sure it wasn't just a marriage of convenience on Maverick's end (not that it had ever been convenient to him). I was pretty sure the sap was in love with Taliyah. Sure, he could say all he wanted to about their marriage being nothing more than a ‘favor to a friend', but he hadn't so much as looked at another woman since that day.

Still, he played his part well—smiling, open posture, raised eyebrow every now and then. He even made an admiring sound when the young woman showed him the pair of shoes she'd been carrying, held against her chest like her first-born child. That admiring sound was all for show because I knew that Maverick cared about shoes slightly less than he cared about dish detergent brands.

But that's where he and I differed. Because shoes were as important to me as was breathing. And from where I was standing—wow, those shoes were something else. In fact, I had to do a double take. Yep, they were gorgeous and, what was more, they deserved to be carried around like a baby. I mean, they should have had their own little pillow to rest on. The base of the shoe was the most luscious rose-pink satin I'd ever seen, with the heel looking like it was made out of pure gold. There were starbursts of crystal just above the toes, and little gemstones and beads were laid out in a circular pattern, all gold and gleaming. As to the brand? I wasn't sure—and that was saying something because I made it my business to be very familiar with my favorite lines. So, yeah, these weren't a designer I recognized, but whoever had created them was a true artist.

I slid out from behind the counter, fascinated, and secretly kind of hoping the woman was looking for a trade. Normally people trying to barter with me got laughed right back out the door again. One influencer I'd actually hexed to make sure she never returned, telling her I couldn't buy fabric with exposure.

But for those shoes… for those shoes? Yes, I just might make an exception. In fact, I could easily imagine Lorcan's expression if I wore them with that satin slip dress I'd just finished sewing… Hmm, now to find out if they were in my size.

"How's everything going over here? Can I help with anything?" I asked in my most syrupy tone, sliding myself into the conversation with a jab of my elbow into Maverick's ribs.

The girl blinked over at me, smoothing a strand of hair back behind her ear. "Oh, I was just telling…" Then she looked over at the man in question.

"Maverick," he answered her with a well-intentioned smile.

"Maverick," she continued, blushing, "that I was looking for an outfit to match my shoes."

"Well," Maverick said, facing me with the kind of bright cheerfulness that said if there wasn't a witness, he'd have set my hair on fire for the elbow to the ribs I'd just given him. "I'll leave you in Wanda's capablehands."

He smiled with way too many teeth, one hand cupped defensively over his ribs, before he turned back to the counter just long enough to grab his jacket and stalk out the door. The woman turned to watch him go with obvious disappointment before she faced me again, a flush creeping up her cheeks. As to women and their obvious interest in my cousin, like I said: I didn't see the appeal, but then, I'd spent more than ten minutes with him.

"So," I said, trying to appear helpful and friendly which really wasn't an easy thing. "You're interested in finding something to match your shoes?"

Most people did it the other way around—they purchased the outfit they wanted, and then went searching for the right pair of shoes to compete the look. But I could see the reasoning here. With shoes like those, she'd need something fabulous to wear, but nothing that would compete too much with her shoes—otherwise she'd end up looking like a disco ball.

The woman shrugged, still looking a little flustered. "I know it's a little strange to try to match my shoes to a dress."

"Not with those shoes," I answered, shaking my head. "They're incredible."

She nodded. "I found them in a pawnshop, of all places."

"Wow," I said, shaking my head, because that had to have been the luckiest find in the history of finds. All the while, I tried to quell the disappointment that was still cresting inside me regarding the fact that she clearly didn't want to trade for them. Well, blast. Sure, I could have magicked her to change her mind on the subject, but that was in poor taste—even for me. No, I'd just have to get used to disappointment. "What, uh, size are they?" I asked, hoping this might be a case of the fox calling the unreachable grapes sour.

"Eight," she answered, giving me a strange expression, like she was wondering why I was asking.

Double blast because they were in my size!

Wanda, you are not going to magick this poor woman into giving you her shoes,the unpopular side of me piped up.

Well, I wasn't thinking of getting them for nothing,I argued back. There are plenty of items in this store that would be a fair and even trade.

"Anyway," she continued. "I have a date tonight, and I thought maybe you might have something that would go with them?" She paused for a moment, then extended her hand. "I'm Jenny, by the way."

I hadn't asked what her name was and didn't honestly care, but that was fine. My mind was already whirling away, sorting mentally through my inventory. Rose and gold, glittering crystal. Possibly the boat cut neckline, bodycon dress with the asymmetrical hem. Ooh, or maybe the champaign number that flowed like water and glittered with a subtle sheen under the lights. It might wash her out though, with her pinky-fair blond coloring.

"Hmm." I tapped my finger to my lips.

Was I still harping on the fact that the shoes weren't on offer? A little. And if I made a plan to troll through our local second-hand shops looking for rare gems a little more often, well, that was no one's business but mine. Still, a little spark of excitement flared to life in my chest as I thought about the challenge ahead, pushing back the cold, clinging dread that had been my constant companion lately. Because no matter what happened with the vampires, no matter how much garbage got thrown at me, no matter who was spying on me, no matter how I was expected to just curl up and wither away, this moment right here was something no one could steal from me.

Because I was damn good at what I did.

And when that woman and her gorgeous shoes left my shop, she was going to look and feel like an absolute queen. And we hadn't even talked magical potions yet.

"Come with me," I all but purred. "I have just the thing in mind."

I had about seven things in mind, technically, but getting to play what was essentially dress up, with a hefty wad of cash at the end, was exactly the thing I needed to take my mind off everything else.

***

After closing, I locked up the store and headed for my Escalade. Part of me wanted to stop in at the coven house, just to make sure no one had managed to burn it down, but being around the coven was always a lot (with so many different personalities), and I just wasn't in the mood for it.

Circle Scapegrace was one of the things I was most proud of, and considering I was a skilled witch who had pulled off some amazing schemes in my life, it had some pretty stiff competition. But, yes, Scapegrace was everything I'd ever wanted in a coven—everything I'd wanted to see in one. We weren't bogged down by stupid rules, or outdated prejudices, or moldy old traditions that made absolutely no sense in today's day and age. Sure, the circle was made mostly of witches, it was a coven after all, so that was the point, but we weren't just witches. We also had Lorcan, the vampire, and Poppy, the Gypsy potion maker. And we had Maverick, a Blood Warlock, as a full member and no longer an awkward and barely tolerated hanger on.

I was fiercely proud of what we'd made together, of how powerful we were as one. Truly, we were able to take on anyone who tried to look down their noses at us. And that was definitely the case. As a group of misfits that didn't really fit in anywhere else, we were almost, by rule, looked down upon. Until those doing the looking down on realized just how powerful we were. And then they had to second guess themselves.

But I wasn't in the mood to stop in now. Truly, if I had to spend even fifteen minutes listening to Olga and Betanya bickering, or Maverick and Imani's weird frienemy banter, I was going to throw myself into the river.

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