“No, no. Just, eh, give me a minute to work up the nerve.”
Nic’s eyes gentled. “Okay, take your time. I’m going to look at some of the dried herbs over here,” he said, gesturing across the aisle.
I nodded, and he left. I inhaled a deep breath to calm myself. What was it about Peter Girard that made me react in this way? I couldn’t think of another person who I’d be so nervous to ask a simple favour of.
My eyes scanned the jars as I studied the labels. Indigo used a lot of the old-world pseudonyms for spell ingredients, such as eye of newt for mustard seeds, devil plant for basil, or little dragon for tarragon. I suspected this was mostly to intrigue and entertain the tourists and human patrons who came into the store.
A few minutes passed, and I knew Nic had to be growing impatient with me. I needed to bite the bullet. If Peter said no, then so be it.
I turned, intending to approach the counter again, but suddenly Peter was right behind me, his expression curious. “Are you searching for something in particular?” he asked, and I froze.
“Um, what?”
Peter motioned to the shelves behind me. “You’ve been staring at those jars for ten minutes. If you tell me what you’re looking for, I can find it for you.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“I work here, Darya. Helping customers is my job.”
I swallowed thickly, feeling ridiculous. “Right, yes, it is your job. How silly of me.”
He studied me, clearly wondering why I was acting so odd. “So …?”
I blinked, then finally, my brain kicked into gear as I pulled the list of spell ingredients from my pocket and handed it to him. He carefully unfolded it, his eyes scanning down the items, eyebrows drawing together handsomely. He was even more attractive when he concentrated.
Finally, his eyes rose to meet mine. “You’re casting a spell?”
“Yes, a clairvoyance spell,” I answered, looking across to where Nic was studying a bag of dried rosemary. “Nic is helping me.” Realising he was being looked at, my friend clumsily shoved the bag back on the shelf and gave an awkward salute.
Peter stared at Nic for a moment, and I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Then his attention returned to the piece of paper. “Are you sure these are the correct ingredients?”
“Of course, I copied them directly from my spellbook.” I paused, growing less sure of myself. “Why? Do they not look right to you?”
“No, it’s not that. They just seem a little bit overly complicated,” he said, then went silent. He looked like he was deciding whether or not to say something. “Are you sure you two can handle a spell like this?”
“I don’t know,” I replied. “Why don’t you help us?”
Peter’s eyes widened at the request. I was proud that I’d made it look like a random suggestion and not like Peter’s help was the entire reason we’d come.
Behind his back, Nic shot me a thumbs up, and I fought a smile.
“You want my help?”
“Sure, why not?” I said, trying to appear casual and not like my heart was racing. With my heightened dhampir senses, it was always a little bit overwhelming standing close to Peter, surrounded by his heady presence. His energy buzzed through me, his scent musky and rich, like amber and smoke.
He appeared conflicted. “When would you want to do it?” Was this actually happening? Was he going to agree?
“No time like the present,” I chirped.
Peter frowned. “I can’t right now. I’m working.”
I looked around. “It’s not like this place is hopping with customers, and the spell will only take a half an hour at most. You could put a ‘Be back in five minutes’ sign up on the door.”
Now he scrutinised me. “You’re up to something.”
“What? No. I just want to cast a quick spell, and I’m sure you’re aware that’s not something I’m very good at.”
He was silent for a long moment, and I grew self-conscious. “What exactly do you want to achieve?” Peter took a step closer, and I felt even more of his warmth. His buzzy energy. He was so alive. If I hadn’t recently fed, I was sure I’d be drawn to the mesmerising scent of his blood, pumping deliciously through his veins.
I swallowed to moisten my rapidly drying throat. “I want to see what happened to Mr Williams the day he was killed.”
Peter blinked. “So, you want to discover who the murderer is?” I nodded, and he frowned. “It’s not that straightforward. If it were, the Guard would simply have one of their witches or warlocks cast the spell to solve the case. Most killers in our world use spells to block anyone being able to see their misdeeds.”
“Right, but if the killer were a vampire or a dhampir, then they wouldn’t have been able to cast that kind of spell.”