The bubbles floating above the Potions and Poisons door popped violently to signal the arrival of another client. Rasha set down the glass vial she’d been examining and gave the new visitor a smile.
“Hello, what can I get for you?”
The client had a mass of black curls tied up into a splay of a bun. He wore a black fabric mask and spoke in a muffled tone.
“Do you have foxglove?”
“Of course! How much would you like?”
“Enough to fully saturate a bird fountain’s worth of water. Do you have it or not?”
That was an incredibly strange and specific request, but she’d learned long ago for this job never to ask questions.
“I’ll need a more measured quantity, but I’m sure we have enough in the back.”
“That’s good,” He glanced around the room as if to check whether anyone was listening. “Do you want to know what it’s for?”
“I am curious,” Rasha admitted.
“It’s for the fairies,” he whispered, sliding off his mask. He then leaned back, smiled at her, and walked away.
Rasha really wanted to ask him more, but she suppressed her curiosity for the sake of professionalism. “Your order will be ready soon, sir.”
“Good.” Her client nodded and took a seat by the door. A bubble popped at him. A few flytraps closed their jaws on his hair.
Rasha cleared a countertop and set off into the back room. It was always a bit difficult to navigate there due to the unorganized masses of boxes and other things, but she managed. She plucked one of the boxes labeled Foxglove from a tilted pile and brought it back into the main room.
“How much do you want, sir?”
At this, the man looked up. His hair had been almost completely undone by the flytraps and was now hanging in his face. Rasha wondered to herself why he hadn’t changed seats.
“The whole box is good,” he said. “How much does it cost?”
“Are you sure? This box contains — ”
“I’m sure.”
“Alright, that’ll be one thousand coins.”
“Poisons these days. So expensive . . . ”
Rasha watched as the man dug into his pockets for his wallet. He found a hair tie first and decided to redo his hair in exactly the same messy bun it was done in before (it seemed the flytraps had eaten his first hair tie. Rasha would have to extract it later — man-made materials were not good for them). After a bit more searching, he took out two thin cards. One he quickly slid through the cash register, and the other he handed to Rasha with a flair.
Rasha took the card. It was dark blue, decorated with all sorts of golden swirls. The strange material it was made out of smelled like sap fire-starter. Etched with the same metallic gold pen was simply:
Vince Angevin — Angevin Family Magical Pest Extermination
Rasha stared down at the kitschy business card as the man — Vince, apparently — hauled the box of foxglove up over his shoulder and pocketed his credit card. He gave her a wave before slipping his mask back over his face and jogging out the door.
A bubble popped at his exit.
Rasha sighed and leaned against the cash register.
“Hello, what can I get for you?”
The client had a mass of black curls tied up into a splay of a bun. He wore a black fabric mask and spoke in a muffled tone.
“Do you have foxglove?”
“Of course! How much would you like?”
“Enough to fully saturate a bird fountain’s worth of water. Do you have it or not?”
That was an incredibly strange and specific request, but she’d learned long ago for this job never to ask questions.
“I’ll need a more measured quantity, but I’m sure we have enough in the back.”
“That’s good,” He glanced around the room as if to check whether anyone was listening. “Do you want to know what it’s for?”
“I am curious,” Rasha admitted.
“It’s for the fairies,” he whispered, sliding off his mask. He then leaned back, smiled at her, and walked away.
Rasha really wanted to ask him more, but she suppressed her curiosity for the sake of professionalism. “Your order will be ready soon, sir.”
“Good.” Her client nodded and took a seat by the door. A bubble popped at him. A few flytraps closed their jaws on his hair.
Rasha cleared a countertop and set off into the back room. It was always a bit difficult to navigate there due to the unorganized masses of boxes and other things, but she managed. She plucked one of the boxes labeled Foxglove from a tilted pile and brought it back into the main room.
“How much do you want, sir?”
At this, the man looked up. His hair had been almost completely undone by the flytraps and was now hanging in his face. Rasha wondered to herself why he hadn’t changed seats.
“The whole box is good,” he said. “How much does it cost?”
“Are you sure? This box contains — ”
“I’m sure.”
“Alright, that’ll be one thousand coins.”
“Poisons these days. So expensive . . . ”
Rasha watched as the man dug into his pockets for his wallet. He found a hair tie first and decided to redo his hair in exactly the same messy bun it was done in before (it seemed the flytraps had eaten his first hair tie. Rasha would have to extract it later — man-made materials were not good for them). After a bit more searching, he took out two thin cards. One he quickly slid through the cash register, and the other he handed to Rasha with a flair.
Rasha took the card. It was dark blue, decorated with all sorts of golden swirls. The strange material it was made out of smelled like sap fire-starter. Etched with the same metallic gold pen was simply:
Vince Angevin — Angevin Family Magical Pest Extermination
Rasha stared down at the kitschy business card as the man — Vince, apparently — hauled the box of foxglove up over his shoulder and pocketed his credit card. He gave her a wave before slipping his mask back over his face and jogging out the door.
A bubble popped at his exit.
Rasha sighed and leaned against the cash register.