The store hosts a meager selection of herbal products. Not so much that it’s overwhelming. Maybe, someday, should the store survive its first few years of business, it will boast many, many more products. For now, the place is fun but not my go-to for all needs.
“Do you have any Elderberry or Goldenseal?” A young woman’s voice asks.
I glance toward the register. Standing in front of the counter is a girl with forever-long, straight, ink-black hair. She rubs her fingers, squeezes them tight, and chews on her lower lip. The clerk simply shakes his head. She sucks back a breath and leans forward. “Do you know where I can find them?”
“Listen lady, we got what we got. Sorry if it ain’t what you be looking for.”
“Right. Sorry.” Her gaze drops to her feet and she shivers, glances toward the door, and then to the space at her back. She steps away from the register.
My nose wrinkles and I fight the desire to jump into the situation. My muscles tense and I shake my head, reminding myself it’s none of my business.
The girl studies the collection of dried herbs hanging on the wall, and she obviously isn’t finding what she’s looking for. She turns to leave, but James steps into her path.
“Pardon me,” he says. “I hope you don’t mind, but I may have overheard you were looking for something in particular.” He peers over her shoulder to me. Smirks. “I may know someone who can help you.” He lifts his chin, motioning to me.
The girl glances back at me, looks to James, then me again.
“Well, come on.” James swings his arm at me, calling me forward.
The girl turns her attention to me, pressing and twisting her weight into the pad of her left foot, turning her knee inward. Her black thigh-high boots are to die for, and her mod dress is reminiscent of the 1960’s, or possibly Posh Spice. Plus, she’s got the whole shiny raincoat thing going on. She clearly embraces her own fashion whimsy, versus following the trendy crowd. I get the sense I’d have fun raiding her closet.
“He’s right. I can probably help you. Depends though.” My gaze shifts from her open expression to James’s smug grin.
“Depends on what?” she asks.
“On what you need the items for?” I reply.
She jerks back and shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”
A smile, clearly born from nerves, inches across her face. It’s beautiful. A moment of silence passes between us, and she stares at me, waiting.
“Um…” I shake my head. “What are you doing?” I ask, my peer piercing through her innocent-girl facade. I swallow hard, and the center of my chest feels like burning coal. I’m not sure if I’m asking about the spell she’s planning or the spell she appears to be casting over me.
Her attention drops to her hands. “It’s silly, really. You’ll think I’m foolish.”
James raises his chin at me and arches his eyebrows. Tilts his head as if to say, “you go girl.” He stands at her back, so she doesn’t see him. He turns and steps away, leaving me alone with the girl. I heave a breath.
“Maybe. Maybe not.” I lean forward. Lower my voice. “Why don’t you try me?”
She glances at the clerk, then over the other customers. No one is paying us any mind. She blinks at me and grimaces. There’s a touch of charm in her unease. “I want the ingredients for a spell,” she whispers.
“Obviously,” I say. “It’s the nature of the spell I’d like to know.”
“Really?” Her dark eyes widen, and her entire body posture relaxes. “You don’t find spell casting crazy or foolish?”
“Of course not. You do know you’re in New Orleans, don’t you?” I don’t wait for her response. I keep talking with barely a pause. “James and I are both witches and belong to the same coven. I grow a lot of my own herbs, elderberry and goldenseal, included.”
Her hands clasp to her chest. “You’re like the first witches I’ve met. I’m in serious need of guidance. Do you think I could pick your brain?”
I snicker. “You can’t be serious?” Her shoulders droop and my gut twists. “What I mean is, you are here in the French Quarter, a place rich with practitioners. I find it unlikely that we’re the first witches you’ve met.”
“I’m kind of new to the craft,” she replies. “Just, sort of, stumbling my way through the learning curve.”
My lips press together and I nod. “Well, I may be able to help you, depending on the nature of the magick you seek.”
“Nothing dark, I promise you.” She grabs my hands, and my gaze snaps to our clenched hold. She quickly releases, wraps her arms around her body. Whispers an apology. “I’m attempting a healing spell for my father. He hasn’t been well lately, and I am concerned.” She sighs and gazes at the floor.
Her father. My mother. I can’t help but sympathize. I reach forward and touch her elbow. “I can help you. I likely have all the ingredients you need. And coming fresh from my garden, they will bring more strength to your spell than anything you could possibly buy in a store.”
“Ohmygoddess. Thank you so much.” She clasps my arms. Pauses, drops her gaze to her hold on me. She releases, steps back, and hugs herself again.
“Tell you what…” I step over to the counter and ask the clerk for a piece of paper and a pen. He obliges. I scribble my name and phone number on the paper and hand it to her. “I’m located in Algiers, and if you are serious about this spell or your craft, I’ll do my best to help.”
She takes the paper and stares at my number. Smiles slightly. “Belle is a pretty name,” she says, then tears the paper in half.
My mind clouds and I jerk back. If she didn’t want my number, that’s fine, but she doesn’t need to be so
