Page 30 of Flirty Fall Fling

“Because I’m a witch. I know things. My intuition is never wrong.”

Blaire reaches past a row of jars and pulls out a tall bottle. The wax seal is cracked at the edges. She carries it to the table with the banker’s lamp and spins it around. The liquid is emerald with a gold shimmer, and it seems to have a life of its own.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Wormwood, anise, fennel. And other ingredients.”

The label on the front is faded and unreadable.

“Absinthe?”

“My kind used this centuries before the Europeans put it in a bottle and monetized it. My aunt always called it witches’ brew. It strips down layers.”

Her heartbeat pulses steadily in the side of her neck.

“Are you sure about this?”

“It must be done. You can’t go on this journey alone. Unfortunately.” She sets the bottle on the table and returns to the cabinet.

“Apologies, I guess?”

Blaire comes back with a slotted silver spoon, two small glasses, a bowl of raw sugar cubes, and a ceramic pitcher. She lays everything out with the same care she used when reading my cup.

“It’s not personal. I don’t like being vulnerable around someone I don’t know,” she explains.

“Then why are you?”

The silence takes over for a few seconds.

“I trust you,” she finally says, and those three words almost undo me. Before I can speak, she continues, “Maybe animals and children are onto something. Now, before we get started, do you consent?”

“Yes,” I say without hesitating, trusting her too.

“Please sit.”

I take the chair in front of her as she cracks the wax on the bottle. She whispers something unintelligible while pouring.

Is it Latin?

She balances the spoon across the glass with a sugar cube on top, then tips the pitcher. Water hits the sugar in a slow stream, dissolving it, and the green below looks like it’s glowing. She pours the second glass. The scent is a combination of licorice and earth.

“Fair warning.” She picks up her glass. “The last time I drank this, I ended up dancing under the full moon, naked, at two in the morning.”

“I’ll try to remember to leave my clothes on,” I say with a smirk.

She grins. “That would probably be for the best.”

I pick up the glass in front of me, and she does the same.

“I’m trusting you too.”

“Together,” she says, and we tap the edges, then down them in several gulps.

It slides down my throat and warms me from the inside out. It’s not like whiskey or anything I’ve ever experienced. It’s sweet and herbal, but it feels alive, like it’s swimming in my bloodstream. The sensation takes me under and makes my head dizzy.

Blaire reaches her hand forward. “Doing okay?”

“Yeah. Is this flying sensation normal?” I ask.