Witchy Sour(7)

“Don’t be blind to the facts,” Zin said. “You have to consider every option. Even those closest to you.”

“He’d never—”

“I’d never what?” Gus spoke from across the room, catching us all off guard as the door banged open against the wall. “I heard my name. I’d never what?”

I swallowed hard. My assistant and mentor stood hunched over a cane, his white hair a bit windblown, and his blue eyes creased in something resembling amusement. “Nothing.”

“Don’t say nothin’, I ain’t an idiot.” Gus smacked his cane against the ground. When he tired of whacking the floor, he crossed his arms and nearly knocked Poppy’s head off with the wrong end of the stick. Gus didn’t need the cane to walk—he needed it to make a racket when he was upset. The man looked like an octogenarian, but he had the strength of someone half his age, and the sassiness of someone double his age. “Go on. Be honest, now. I can tell when yer lyin’.”

I glared at Zin. “Nothing. We were just talking about—”

“—potions,” Poppy interrupted. “Lily is working on the Menu. We were trying to help her come up with a new drink name.”

“I think I’ve got it,” I said with a nod. Quickly running through a list of drinks in my head, I picked the first one that came to mind. “Whiskey...er, sour. Witchy Sour!”

Gus rolled his eyes. “I think yer’all lyin’ to me.”

Poppy shook her head. “Lying is such a strong word.”

“But it’s the accurate one,” Gus shot back. “You two are tryin’ to convince Lily that she’s gotta examine the one person who had access to the spellbook. The one person on The Isle who logically could’ve pulled this heist off. Am I right?”

An awkward silence descended on the room.

“Not really,” I hedged. “I was just explaining the spell system to them. About how unlikely it was that someone could’ve pulled off the theft at all.”

“They’ve got a point.” Gus tossed his cane onto the long, wooden table in the center of the room. “A darn good point.”

We usually used the table top to chop leaves, examine ingredients, and mix up new potions, but for now, Gus ignored its purpose and used it as a cane-rack. Walking without any trace of a limp, he crossed the room with ease and stopped in front of the open safe. The girls and I glanced at one another as he examined the empty space.

“Gus?” I asked eventually. He hadn’t moved for a few minutes, and I worried he’d taken a nap standing up. “What are you thinking?”

Gus turned around with a wild grin on his face. “I’m thinkin’ you’ve got yourself a good set of friends, Lily. These two ain’t afraid to point blame at anyone, including myself, and I can appreciate that.”

I slid a sideways gaze at Poppy, who shrugged back at me.

“Takes guts,” Gus said with a laugh. “But that’s who you need around you. These ladies don’t trust anyone. I like ’em.”

Offering a hesitant smile, I spoke cautiously. “I like them too.”

“Good.” Gus’s amused expression vanished in an instant. “So tell them to scram because we’ve got work to do.”





Chapter 2



Two hours later, I flexed my fingers and pushed back my chair. After hunching over a table for the last few hours, I was ready to be done working for the month, let alone the day.

I’d been tasked with the intense process of documenting hundreds of jars from the most recent supply shipment. Gus wasn’t a patient man on a good day, and today wasn’t a good day. He worked like an assembly line, passing one bag of supplies to me before I was done with the previous five.

“I need a break.” I stood up. “My fingers are going to freeze up like this.”

Gus raised his eyebrow as I made gnarly claws in his direction. “Then freeze up they will. We’re not done yet.”

“Maybe not,” I said, peering over his shoulder. “But unfortunately, we’ve got a visitor. You’ve always said that customers come first!”

Grumbling, he didn’t bother to look up from his work. “Come right back once you serve’m.”

With a sigh of relief, I slipped out of the apron I always used while sorting supplies. I was still so new to this Mixology business that I didn’t trust myself to properly identify all of the ingredients, and if one particle of Moonstone dropped on my shirt, it’d burn straight through like acid. Luckily, the apron had been enchanted to repel harmful particles. It was the magical version of a Hazmat suit.