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We end up taking the remaining potion as well as a pencil and paper out to the bar. I get things set up for the evening while Harry alternates between writing down lists of different holidays and occasions and flinging the potion around the room to watch the clouds float around. We still have some potion left when I open up for the evening, although I’ve put it behind the bar, not wanting anyone to mistake it for a beverage. I don’t think it would do any serious damage. But I bet they would be hiccuping up glitter for weeks at the very least.
“Did you want a drink?” I ask Harry. He frowns at me, apparently unhappy.
“What?” I ask.
“You never ask me what I want. You just give me whatever awful concoction you’ve come up with. Are you out of ideas or am I just not worth the effort anymore?” He pouts. Is he actually sulking that I’m NOT giving him weird, gross drinks? He seems to have placed some importance on them and how I single him out. Well that was not what I intended but I guess I can see how he got that idea.
“Are you seriously disappointed that I’m not throwing random magic at you?” I ask, mostly because I want to be sure that’s what he’s actually offended by. He shrugs.
“Sure, I like to feel special.” He bats his eyelashes at me dramatically. I work to keep a straight face. I pour him a gin and tonic and place it in front of him.
“Here you go, G and T with magic on the side.” I tell him pleasantly. Harry frowns.
“I watched you make that, it’s just a normal drink. Where’s the magic?” He demands.
“Here.” I say calmly as I reach behind the bar, grab some of the pink potion in my bare hands and fling it right at his face, essentially glitter bombing him. He sputters and coughs out at cloud of glitter. I expect him to be annoyed or complain but instead he just bursts out laughing.
“You would be terrifying in a game of paintball. I’m imagining magically infused projectiles and drunk players.” He waves a hand in the air to emphasise his point. I join in with his
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laughter, particularly when he blows a kiss through the pink cloud surrounding him which just causes him to sneeze.
I’m struggling to breathe from laughing when an obnoxious female voice interrupts.
“Uh, excuse me!” Harry and I both turn to see a pair of unhappy looking women staring at us. One of them has her arms crossed over her chest and the other has her hands on her hips. Shoot, have they been waiting for drinks? I’m going to have to stop letting Harry distract me like this during work hours.
“Hey, sorry. Can I get you ladies a drink?” I ask in my best customer service voice. The one with her hands on her hips lets out a scoff and the
other one rolls her eyes at me.
“What coven are you from?” She demands. Huh? I examine them closer and realise they have matching marks on their arms that are identical to mine. A half moon with swirling designs. inside in a very Celtic looking pattern. Completely black of course. Okay, so they’re Witches like me. That doesn’t explain why they’re so pissed off.
“I left my coven. I don’t have one right now.” I answer calmly.
“And yours?” I follow up. Hands on hip woman scoffs again.
“We are from the Maura coven. I’m assuming YOUR coven kicked you out based on your behaviour.” She sounds absolutely disgusted. Seriously? What did I do to her?
“Excuse me?” I ask, baffled.
“Throwing magic around like it’s a toy. We came here because we heard that there was a Witch giving away magic for FREE. Obviously that’s insane but we thought that it would be irresponsible of us to not at least check it out and the first thing we find is some loner Witch literally THROWING magic around.” She says it like I was drowning puppies or stealing from orphans.
“So? It wasn’t anything dangerous.” I respond stubbornly.
“What’s dangerous is that you’re just giving it away. What if someone steals your spell and uses it on someone else? It’s irresponsible and reckless.” The arms crossed woman insists. I
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roll my eyes.
“You’re just pissed off that I have magic to spare. It’s no good to anyone locked up and gathering dust while I wait to dole it out in tiny doses to the highest bidder. Are you worried people will come to me rather than buying from you? Because I don’t take orders.” The woman gasps in faked offence and I know I’ve nailed it. Sure, I might not take orders, but thrill seekers or curious people who just want to see magic in action or brag that they tried a potion are far more likely to come to my bar than they are to go to a coven and buy an expensive potion. I’m probably damaging their sales. Not that they wouldn’t still be making plenty of money. Harry’s idea to make magic more common in my bar is sounding better and better. Sure, it’ll turn all the Witches in the city against me, but none of them want anything to do with me anyway, and if it stops people from throwing away thousands of dollars when all they want is a bit of entertainment then even better. I’m not saying that covens SHOULDN’T sell magic. It only makes sense for them to sell a commodity that they have complete control over. But their prices are outrageous and frankly unfair.
“Look, this is my bar and I’m not doing anything illegal. You can stay, order a drink and relax, or you can leave. I’m not going to sit here and let you harass me.” I tell them sternly. Hands on hips takes a step towards me and raises her hands aggressively, I’m not sure what she’s considering doing exactly but I doubt it’s good. Shit. I am not prepared to get into a fight, particularly not a magical one.
I’m just trying to work out if throwing my glittery distraction potion will help or hinder me in this situation when Harry steps in. I expect him to argue, to defend me or at very least to tell the women to calm down. But that’s not what he does. Instead he… flirts?
“Hello there, beautiful. You know, I kind of have a thing for Witches.” I’m about to tell him to shut up, that now is NOT the time for him to be hitting on me. Except he isn’t talking to me. He’s talking to miss hands on hips. His voice is low and seductive and she flushes red. Even her friend looks a little flustered. I don’t know what he’s doing but there has got to be some Incubus magic involved. Before I can figure out exactly what’s happening. He leads both women away, one of them hanging off his arm, his hand gently on the other’s lower back as he directs her. What the hell? I turn my back on them and go back to serving drinks. I can’t help but watch him out of the corner of my eye and I must not be as subtle as I think because Cora has just arrived to help with the evening rush and the first thing she does is follow my gaze and frown.
“That’s weird. I thought the Incubus only had eyes for you.” She seems to realise that she’s
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treading on thin ice because she quickly hurries away and busies herself with customers. Finally, FINALLY the Witches leave and Harry returns to the bar with a cheerful looking
smile.
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