Short Story: "Toil & Trouble"

This is my most recently completed short story; I wrote it as part of the Ominous October challenge this past month, using the word "potions" as a prompt. Upon choosing the prompt, my mind gravitated, as it so often does, to witches. Specifically to the idea of two very different witches who specialize in very different types of potions. Get ready to meet them, if you dare.

The nature of a witch can often be discerned by the contents of her potion cabinet. Sift through the ingredients, the bottles and the spellbooks she keeps, and you will know if she intends to do good or ill with her wealth of knowledge.

Felicity Crane kept a clean, well-ordered cabinet that was nigh indistinguishable from one found in any mortal kitchen. Mason jars full of spices, herbs and powdered gemstones lined the middle shelf, just above the stack of mixing bowls and beneath the row of handmade notebooks that served as her grimoires. There were no "eyes of newts" or "toes of frogs" in Felicity's cabinet. The jars on her ingredient shelf bore labels with names like "Mercy Jasmine" and "Purified Peppermint." The most dog-eared pages in her favorite grimoire contained the recipes for a Philter of Good Fortune, a Moonlit Skin Tonic and something she called Harmony Coffee.

So on the night that she discovered where (and with whom) her boyfriend had been going every Thursday evening, Felicity's potion cabinet proved to be of little help as she tearfully and drunkenly looked up the components for a vengeance hex.

Cordelia Grimblood was hunting for bones when she got Felicity's call. In fact, she was halfway done crawling out of an open grave with most of a skeleton rattling around in her shoulder bag when her cell phone rang. The sudden shriek of the ringtone made her lose her balance and tumble back into the coffin she had just looted.

When she saw the name on the caller ID, she swore under her breath. She would have sent the call straight to voicemail if her intuition hadn't prodded her to answer. Felicity, who had no use for blood and bones and demon-summoning rituals, would not be calling her at midnight on a weekday—or at all, really—if it wasn't an important problem.

She pressed the green circle and held the cell phone up to her ear. "Make it quick, I'm busy. What do you want?"

A wave of noise bombarded her from the other end of the line. Deep, blubbering sobs broken up by occasional wails and sniffles. They were loud enough to wake the dead, and they drowned out Cordelia's voice each time she tried to get a word in edgewise.

"Felicity, I can't…okay, you need to…would you get your shit together for a second, please?" Cordelia finally shouted, her voice echoing through the graveyard. She peered up to make sure she hadn't drawn any attention, then ducked back inside the grave. "I don't have time to sit here all fucking night. Now what do you want?"

The torrent of tears finally slowed into gasping breaths and a few choking cries. Then the voice on the other end of the line said, "You always have Reaper's Venom in your cabinet, right?"

Cordelia dropped the cell phone and had to scramble through the darkness of the coffin to find it again, cursing all the way.

"I'm sorry, did you just ask me about Reaper's Venom?" she asked when she finally had the phone back. "You?"

"I don't have any at my place," Felicity said. "I've never needed to use it before." She sounded like a kicked puppy.

"I'm going to need a few more details," said Cordelia. "Namely, what the hell are you trying to make that needs Reaper's Venom?"

The flood started up again.

Under most circumstances, Cordelia would have hung up the call and gotten back to business that was actually important. But she had to admit her interest was piqued, if only by the other witch's bizarre request. She waited on the line, not saying a word, until Felicity's sobs had died back down. "Well?" she asked.

"I'm trying to cast Rage of the Scorned Lover."

Cordelia took a sharp breath in through her teeth and let it out slowly. "This is about Jeff, isn't it?"

"It's about Jeff."

I tried to warn her about that fucker, she thought.

"Alright, listen," Cordelia said. "You just wait at your place for a few hours, okay? Don't do anything stupid. I'll meet you there with the ingredients."

"But—"

"Just tell me if you can handle being by yourself or not."

Felicity let out another sniffle. "I…I can handle it. I think."

"Okay, good." Cordelia moved to hang up the phone, paused, and then brought it back to her ear. "One more thing. Who'd you catch him with? No, I don't want the details, just give me a name."

Felicity spent a few more seconds whimpering before she said, "The redhead he works with at the diner. Aimee Collins."

"Noted. I'll see you soon."

Cordelia hung up the phone before Felicity could say another word. Then she stood up and reached for the edge of the grave to haul herself back out. It was going to be a long night—but a welcome change of pace. It had been far too long since she'd last had an excuse to use some proper dark magic.

Three hours later, Felicity heard the loud, solid noise of a fist pounding on her front door. Rubbing her reddened eyes, she trudged from the kitchen to the foyer, making a few drunken stumbles along the way.

When she opened the door, her eyes bugged out and her jaw went slack. "What have you been doing?"

On her front step stood Cordelia, exhausted but self-satisfied, holding a large, opaque plastic container with both hands. Her black dress, leather jacket and chunky combat boots were all covered in mud and dirt. Her black and white makeup was smeared beyond repair. Her hands carried the telltale pink stains of blood that hadn't quite washed off.

"I've been getting your ingredients," said Cordelia. "What's it look like?" Without another word, she brushed past Felicity and headed for the kitchen.

"You really didn't have to go to all that trouble," said Felicity. She stood in the kitchen doorway, wringing her hands and looking on with trepidation. "I just needed some help with that one part…"

"No, you didn't." Cordelia set the container down on the kitchen table. It landed with a weighty thud and the sound of sloshing liquids inside. "I knew you wouldn't have any of the ingredients you needed," she continued as she unlatched the lid. "So I brought the essentials."

The first thing she pulled out was a glowing red bottle with a stopper on top that looked like the rearing head of a cobra. "There's your Reaper's Venom," she said. "Go submerge it in some cold water for a few minutes. It'll leave a mark on this table if I set it down now."

Once that had been done (and once Felicity had rubbed a healing salve on her own hands to cure the burns), Cordelia began removing more ingredients from the container.

"You've got your chimera barbs right here…" A jar of tiny, twisted black spikes.

"Your ogre snot…" A transparent squeeze tube of some paste-like substance with a toxic green tint.

"And your shriveling belladonna." A plastic bag of dark purple flower petals, turning brown and brittle at the edges.

"Now, the hex doesn't actually require this," Cordelia said, "but I like to throw in a little bit of ground nightshade cap for that extra kick. Depends on whether you just want to make him feel your emotional pain or break every bone in his body." She held up a small pepper shaker that she twirled around in her fingers.

Felicity bit her lip as she looked over the array spread out before her. "What about the main ingredient? The…the you-know-what?" She pointed hesitantly towards her own mouth.

Cordelia smirked. "I saved that for last, since it needs to be fresh."

Reaching into the basket again, she pulled out a small plastic bag which, at first glance, appeared to be filled with blood. It took Felicity another second to see the still-twitching tongue inside.

She gasped. "Is that…his?"

"Oh, no. The spell only says it needs to be the tongue of a liar. So I stopped by Aimee's house on the way here." Cordelia flashed a toothy smile. "You and Jeff won't be hearing from her anymore. Literally."

Felicity stood gawking for another second. Tears of joy welled up in her eyes as she rushed forward and flung her arms around Cordelia. "Oh, you shouldn't have!"

"Hey, hey, a little less touching, if you don't mind," said Cordelia, slithering her way out of the hug. "But it's my pleasure. Anything to get you casting some real magic for once."

"So you'll help? With casting the hex, I mean."

"Well, yeah, that's why I'm here. Mix these things up in the wrong order and you get a fireball that melts your own skin off." Cordelia leaned back against the kitchen counter and raised an eyebrow. "Now, tell me how you'd like to hurt that prick."

Felicity's eyes lit up. "The thing you said a minute ago. About breaking every bone in his body. I want to do that."

Cordelia grinned. "Oh, you and I are gonna have some fun."