Chapter 3 Three

I had barely reached the door when I pulled it open, only to walk straight into someone standing on the other side. My forehead collided with something considerably harder than a human head, and I stumbled backwards with a hand flying to the sore forehead.

“Bloody hell!” I looked up, ready to give whoever had just nearly concussed me a piece of my mind, only to find a tall man standing in the doorway, staring down at me with the most unimpressed expression I had ever seen.

“Oh, brilliant,” I muttered, rubbing my forehead. “Just what I needed.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “You walked into me.”

“And you were standing directly in front of the door.”

“It is a rather odd place to keep a door.”

I stared at him. He stared back. Wonderful. Apparently, the day had decided it wasn’t finished tormenting me yet.

“Get out of my way. I need to see the witch who owns this place.”

I stared at him for a moment, then slowly pointed towards the little wooden sign hanging on the door.

“It’s closed.”

His gaze followed my finger to the sign before returning to me. “I can see that.”

“Excellent. Then we’re both aware of the situation.”

“I said I need to see the witch.”

“And I said the shop is closed, so unless you’ve come to admire the sign, I suggest you come back tomorrow.”

His jaw tightened, and I could tell he was already running out of patience. Unfortunately for him, so was I.

He ignored me and looked past my shoulder into the shop. “Miss Nellie Bramblewick?”

I frowned.

“Miss Nellie Bramblewick?” he called again, louder this time, as though I might suddenly appear from behind my own counter.

I folded my arms. “Yes?”

His eyes settled on me. “Miss Nellie Bramblewick?”

I stared at him. “You’re looking at her.”

His expression softened, and he let out a quiet sigh. “I’m sorry. It’s been a rather dreadful day, and I know I’ve no business turning up after closing, but if you could spare me an hour of your time, I’d be terribly grateful. I really do need your help.”

I hesitated, studying him as I searched those gorgeous amber eyes, which was rather inconvenient considering I had just decided I was done dealing with people for the day. Eventually, I sighed and stepped aside. “Fine. One hour.”

He stepped inside, and I closed the door behind him before turning the little sign back towards the street, though I couldn’t help wondering whether I had just made a terrible decision.

“Thank you,” he said, glancing around the shop.

“You’re welcome, although I should warn you that my patience is considerably less generous right now.”

A faint smile touched his lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

I walked behind the counter and folded my arms. “Now, you have precisely one hour, so you may as well tell me what has brought you here.”

He remained silent for a moment, his gaze traveling over the rows of colorful bottles and jars before settling on me again.

“I need a potion.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You came to a potion shop after closing to tell me that? How wonderfully urgent is this.”

He ignored my sarcasm, reaching into the inside pocket of his coat and pulling out a small, folded piece of parchment.

“I need you to make something for me that isn’t sold in ordinary apothecaries.”

I took the parchment from him and unfolded it, my eyes scanning the ingredients written across the page before slowly lifting back to his face. “Where did you get this recipe?” I asked my eyes widened.

“That,” he said quietly, “is precisely why I needed to speak to you.”

“I heard you were born into the Briarshade Coven,” he said, lowering his voice as though the name itself ought to be enough to explain how he got that recipe. “They say your coven knows more about forbidden magic than any other witches in Merribell, particularly the sort that deals with hearts, bonds and spells related to the dead.”

I stared at him for a moment before setting the parchment back on the counter. “I think you should leave.” I said knowing what he meant and wanted.

“Please,” he said, his voice softening as he stepped closer. “Just hear me out. I need her out of my life, Nellie. I need to forget her so I can move on.”

I folded my arms, studying him carefully. “You’re asking me to sever a soulmate bond.”

“I knew you would recognize the spell once you see it.” He said excitedly.

“That sort of magic is forbidden,” I said, trying not to lose my temper. “And unless you fancy spending the next several years locked away and answering to the Crown’s Magical Council, I suggest you forget you ever came through my door.”

His jaw tightened. “You don’t understand.”

“Oh, I understand perfectly well. You want me to tamper with a soulmate bond, wipe someone from your heart and memory, and somehow make it all sound like a perfectly reasonable Tuesday evening.”

“I’m desperate.”

“Desperate choices come with grave consequences,” I said, shaking my head. “I can’t help you, Mr…” I stopped, realizing I hadn’t asked his name.

“Orson,” he said calmly. “Orson Bellweather.”

The name rang a bell.

Orson Bellweather. Of course. I had heard of him. Everyone in Merribell had. He was the notorious womanizer whose name appeared in the scandal sheets almost as often as the royal family’s, usually beside some tale of a broken engagement, a ruined marriage or another unfortunate woman who had fallen for his charms.

I looked at him again, taking in his handsome face and those infuriatingly calm amber eyes. “Well,” I muttered, “that explains rather a lot.”

“Well,” I said, setting the parchment down, “if that would be all, I’d rather like you to leave.”

He opened his mouth, presumably to argue, but I lifted a hand before he could get a word out.

“No. Whatever it is you’re about to say, I don’t want to hear it.”

I walked around the counter, made my way towards the door and pulled it open, holding it there for him.

Orson remained where he was for a moment, staring at me as though he were waiting for me to change my mind. Then his expression softened, and he gave me a look that might have melted a considerably more sensible woman than myself.

Those eyes. Those dreadful, pleading eyes he had clearly spent years using to charm women into making spectacularly poor decisions.

I folded my arms and waited. Eventually, with a quiet sigh, he walked towards the door and stepped outside.

“Bye” I said. He glanced back at me, but I had already begun closing the door. I locked it behind him and stood there for a moment, my hand still resting on the latch as I stared at the empty street through the glass.

How on earth had Orson Bellweather got hold of that recipe?

A shiver of unease crept through me.” I’ve had quite enough madness for one day,” I muttered, turning away from the door.