Chapter 2

Gertrude

"G ood riddance to bad rubbish," Gretchen says, passing me another bottle of pumpkin ale. "I've been saying for years that you can do better than him."

I flick my fingers with a little pop of magic, sending the bottle cap flying off the ale and then take a healthy swig. This is my . . . I'm not sure how many pumpkin ales I've had, actually. When I got back to Eye of Newt, Gretchen took one look at me, shooed the rest of the customers out of the shop, took me home and plied me with drinks. I didn't even argue with closing the shop early in the middle of busy season. There's no way that I could have pasted on a smile and interacted with my customers today. I'll get behind on my fulfilling of orders, but it would be dangerous for me to mix potions right now. I could get something wrong and anything could happen.

"I just can't believe that he'd leave me to be with Calliope of all people," I groan, swallowing more ale. My head feels fuzzy and my fingertips are tingling, but it's still not enough to numb the aching in my heart. I'm not even particularly heartbroken that Harry left me. If he's going to be with my old bully and dump me with so little feeling then he's not the werewolf I thought he was. No, I'm heartbroken over the wasted years, the wasted feelings, all the time and energy that I poured into a relationship that left me with nothing in the end. It makes it all seem so pointless.

"It's because he was always bad news," Gretchen says matter-of-factly, taking my empty bottle away and handing me another one. "You just couldn't see it because you had the goo-goo eyes for him."

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" I ask, changing the subject. I already knew that Gretchen didn't like Harry and I don't need reminding that she was apparently right about him.

"Yep," she says, giving me a not-even-a-little-sorry smile. "You looked like you needed it. At least for tonight. You can be responsible and put-together tomorrow. For now you deserve to drown your sorrows for a bit. Healing will come later."

"It's not fun getting drunk alone," I whine a little. I guess I'm getting more drunk than I thought.

"Oh you won't be," Gretchen says, pulling out a bottle from her bottomless bag. "I summoned the good stuff from my house."

She unscrews the cap and a little zinging scent stings my nostrils.

"Is that . . . peppermint?"

Gretchen flushes a deeper green. "Yeah. Peppermint schnapps. It's good. Nick gave it to me."

"Ooooo," I sing-song. "Junior gave it to you?" Nick is Gretchen's best friend. They've been thick as thieves since they were kids. It's a little unconventional though because, well, Gretchen's a Halloween candy witch and Nick is the heir to Christmas, Santa's oldest son. Nicklaus Kristopher Kringle Junior. He'll take over the whole Christmas neighborhood someday but I can't help but tease Gretchen because she's always had a little crush on him, even though she'd never act on it and ruin their friendship.

If anything Gretchen just gets an even darker green, the color of pine. "Don't call him Junior. He doesn't like that."

"Doesn't he?" I ask, tipping back my ale and taking another swallow. "It's what he is. I hear it's what Old Nick calls him."

"We all have nicknames that we don't like very much," Gretchen says defensively. "Right, ‘Trudes? "

I wince at the reminder of Harry. "Hey, low blow."

My twin has the grace to look penitent. "Sorry. You're right. Tonight is about you and you alone. But don't call him Junior okay? He really does hate it."

"‘Kay," I agree, drinking my ale, but I eye the peppermint schnapps. I am a little curious about the Christmas drink. You don't get those kinds of flavors in this neighborhood very often.

Gretchen rummages in my cabinet and pulls out some mugs before rubbing her hands together. Piping hot chocolate starts to pour from the air between her hands, filling the mugs with steaming goodness. Being a candy witch, summoning hot cocoa is child's play for Gretchen and it's one of her specialties. When she's done, my twin grabs the bottle, pouring extremely healthy amounts of the schnapps inside. She pushes mine over to me and then takes a little sip from her steaming mug.

"Is this wise?" I ask before taking my own sip. Oh my, that's good .

Gretchen just rolls her eyes. "It's best this way, trust me. Now, chop, chop, less thinking, more drinking. We've got a bruised heart to heal."

"Bossy," I mutter, but I take another sip. The peppermint mixed with the dark chocolate is divine . I can't even taste the alcohol in it and judging by how strong the smell was coming out of the bottle, there's a lot of it in there.

"Beatrix sends her condolences, but she can't be here tonight," Gretchen says, speaking of our older sister. "Though what can be more important than your little sister's first big break-up, I'll never know."

"You shouldn't have told her," I censure, taking another delicious sip. "She has a big meeting in the morning with Old Nick on expanding the Forgotten Holidays neighborhood. Christmas just keeps getting bigger and it's pushing out some of the smaller holidays. She's been lobbying for the appointment for months. You know that she's not City Hall's favorite person."

"Still, you'd think she could swing by to have a drink with her sisters, today of all days," grumbles Gretchen.

"At the rate we're going, it wouldn't be one drink and she'd end up missing her meeting. Give her some slack. I know she'll be there for me when I need her."

My twin sighs. "I know you're right. Alright, back to drinking."

I giggle, maybe a little too loudly at her words. The boozy peppermint chocolate is going straight to my head after all the pumpkin ales. I lift up my mug and cheers it against Gretchen's mug.

"To drinking away problems and getting dumped by lousy boyfriends." I say, smiling even though the mention of Harry causes a little twinge in my heart. Stupid heart.

"Here, here!" Gretchen says. "May there be a better boyfriend around the corner!"

Yeah right, I think, but I keep my thoughts to myself and just take another sip.

∞∞∞

THE PEPPERMINT SCHNAPPS was a bad idea , I think, blearily opening my eyes. It's the middle of the night and my head is already pounding, my mouth feeling parched and full of cotton. Gretchen went back home a while ago and I'm all alone in my house. I'm not used to being alone. Harry's been with me since I bought the house and even on the odd occasion that he'd go visit family or something, I'd usually go stay with one of my sisters. Being all by myself in an empty house is spooky. Which is funny to say as a witch of all things, but it's true.

I stumble downstairs to my kitchen to pour myself a glass of water, barely taking in my surroundings as I go. I get to the sink and suddenly the act of getting a cup seems like too much work. I turn on the tap and just push my face down to drink out of the tap like it was a hose. Instantly, the cold, slightly metallic taste of the water soothes my tongue and I take two big gulps before pulling back. I don't want to drink too much at once; I don't want to hurl.

As I straighten up, my eyes slide over onto the counter. It's dark in the kitchen, but my eyes have semi-adjusted and I see a picture on the counter next to my knife block. It's one of me and Harry, taken on our fifth anniversary. He took me out to dinner. Well, I mean, I was paying, but he picked the restaurant. I thought that he was going to ask me to be his mate so I got dolled up really cute. He didn't propose. But the waiter took our picture and I printed it out and framed it. More wasted effort.

I must still be pretty drunk, because I pick up the frame to toss it into the trash can, but the moment my hand touches the picture instead, I burst into tears. All the tears I held back in the park and that Gretchen kept at bay with her antics and booze all come rushing up at once. I collapse on the floor weeping and hating myself for it. But I can't seem to help it. I just keep thinking of Harry on the park bench, telling me that he's getting with Calliope, that she might be his mate, that he'd been talking to her for a month and the tears just fall.

After I've been crying for a good long time, I wipe my hand across my wet, snotty face, and start to get mad. Harry's not worth my tears! Gretchen was right, I was always too good for him and now he did me a favor. I'm free. Wobbling up to my feet, I throw the picture I've been clutching into the garbage. This is stupid. I shouldn't be sobbing in my kitchen alone over a guy . But a little, watery part of me still wants to cry about it.

But I'm over that part of me. I don't want to feel like this. And why should I? I'm one of the best potion witches in Holiday Village. If I can't whip up a cure for heartbreak, who can?

Ignoring the sober, safety-minded part of myself that says that potion making when drunk and emotionally unstable is a terrible idea, I start digging through my cabinets, putting my cauldron on the stove and start throwing things in. First the herbs: lavender, ginger, and rose for love, sage for healing, basil for fidelity. In they all go. Next is the magic ingredients: a cupid's feather, a slice of rainbow, fairy dust. Soon, I don't really know what I'm putting in. I'm almost in a fugue state, just going off of pure instinct. I'm even summoning things from my shop pantry and tossing them in. A dash of this, a pinch of that, just a smidge of this. Anything that I feel like will cure a heartache goes in. On and on I go, cooking it down, until I have a glowing purple potion in the cauldron in front of me, just enough for one swallow. Now is the time for an incantation, but I'm definitely not in any state of mind to be eloquent or delicate in what I say. It just needs to rhyme.

"Heartbreak, heartbreak, go away," I chant, waving a shaky, drunk hand over the potion, "Never come another day." Then I pause and impulsively add, "And bring a better boyfriend to me. One who fits me to a T." The potion gleams in the darkness, calling to me. It seems to sparkle more with my words, but that could be the drunkenness talking. Grinning in self- satisfaction, I grab my ladle and following my drunken instinct, I drink the whole thing in one gulp.

Stars go off behind my eyes, my head humming with power and then it stills. With a smile, I think of Harry, expecting to not be affected, but I still get a twinge and frown. What the hell? All my finest ingredients and nothing happened? Trying not to feel too disappointed, I go to trudge up the stairs to my room. The sky is lighter than it was when I started, but there should be some time to sleep before I need to be up at the shop.

Entering my room, I realize that I'm still wearing my day clothes, but pulling on pajamas seems like too much work. I wiggle out of my sweater, skirt, and tights until I'm just dressed in my camisole and underwear and collapse on the nice cool bed and, without further thought, feel myself slip into a dreamless sleep.