Vicki would have pulled herself up by her bootstraps if it meant success, but bootstraps aren't free. Nothing in life is free. Effort, bootstraps, they all cost something. And everything seemed to cost too much all the time.

"Hi there, welcome to Scented Sticks!" Vicki said. She received polite nods in response.

Great. What she thought were potential customers, a middle-aged woman and likely her teenage daughter, were just browsing. The twosome glanced over her wares, passing crowded rows of candles without taking the slightest whiff, disregarding the wall of thousands of incense sticks, and even ignoring her handmade crochet animals piling over an idle table. Vicki tried not to stare as her heart sank and settled in the cracks of the hardwood floor.

But it was getting difficult to hold her tongue. Especially when these had been her first visitors of the day.

And likely only, seeing as it was already 4 pm.

The teenager came up to the counter and began spinning the jewelry case near the register. Vicki busied herself with dusting the display of Halloween decorations that had only a few more relevant days to sell. She eyed the young woman at the counter. The case she was browsing contained bracelet charms; they were the shop's top sellers and the scented metal was especially popular with teenagers.

Vicki closed her eyes and uttered a small spell as she spun the duster in her hand. She glanced back at the counter as the teenager pulled a charm from the display and smelled it.

"Mom, look at this," she said.

Vicki's lips twisted into a smile. She had only the slightest smile on her face, but inside she was doing cartwheels. Thank the stars, the mother bought the charm, one in the shape of an apple with a scent to match. Vicki shut the lonely cash into the drawer of the register as the two left.

She then went to the door, flipped the sign to 'closed', and bolted the lock.

Maybe she would get lucky again tomorrow. A single random customer was a blessing during the off-season and would be even more so when the winter air began blowing in from the sea. The shop's location on the outer rim of the seaside tourist district was perfect for summer, but a series of nearby disasters had put a harsh damper on the profits that usually kept the store afloat during the off-season.

And she could see it, every disaster etched into her store, from the squeaky door hinge, to the rug nearly worn to threads, the fireplace that's chimney needed sweeping, and all the way to the creaky staircase leading up to her studio apartment. She'd fix it all, one day. In the meantime, she made a mental note to grease the door and patch the hole in the rug before opening tomorrow.

She skipped over the tricky fourth step on the stairs and walked into her studio apartment. The cramped space allowed for only a pullout couch and table that doubled as a desk. She flung herself across the mattress. It rattled underneath her, and the bumps and bulges refused to let her body sink into it.

Oh, what she would give to just have a real bed again.

Anything but go back to Carter, that jackass would share his bed with anyone, and comfortable or not, she still had her pride. At least for now, as long as the shop stayed open. The mounting bills on the table-desk told her she didn't have much time left.

Every calamity that caused the mountain of scarlet envelopes was all she could think about as she crocheted with the TV playing in the background. First, there was the sewage leak, then an algae bloom that smelled so bad even her strongest scents couldn't mask it. Last year it was multiple shark attacks. And the year before that were those damn yacht crashes from forty-foot high waves. Vicki was starting to think the town had been cursed, but curses tended to weaken with time, not get worse.

She was halfway through a skein of yarn when her stomach forced her up. She managed to ignore the red letters as she went to her fridge, and took out the leftover spaghetti she had been working on for the last two days.

Her stomach turned. She had eaten spaghetti three days out of the week for the last month. Without any other options, she had grown so desperate that she began experimenting with her magic to try to make it taste like something else, anything else. Taste was eighty percent smell, right?

But cinnamon roll spaghetti was just...wrong.

She didn't have any other scents on hand that she could use. And the only vials of magic she had in abundance were the fruity pumpkin spice fragrances mortals went crazy for in fall.

Vicki shoved the plate into the microwave and froze just before she started it. Outside the kitchen window was an unobstructed view of a full scarlet red moon.

That was it! The ticket to a decent-tasting meal hanging in the sky.

She took the spaghetti plate, shoved it back into the fridge then pulled on a jacket and affixed her charm bracelet to her left wrist. Going to go out to brew scents required extra protection. Each of the six silver charms were scented with warding magic; one for each of the underdwellers that stalked the streets at night. Ogres, werewolves, succubi, wendigos, demons, and even pixies. Combined, the repellents gave off notes of citrus and cardamon, a perfume strong enough to prevent her from becoming an underdweller dinner.

***

Vicki closed the gate to the community garden behind her. The moonlight was strong, and without a cloud in the sky, she could clearly take stock of all of the vegetables in her plot. There wasn't much, she had pulled all of her summer crop save for some peppers, tomatoes, and the cool season vegetables were still only sprouts.

So she had to work with what had been dried in her assigned shed. Which was only garlic and assorted herbs. Not much. Not even enough to be called scraps. If she had remembered that she wouldn't have taken the long walk over. But now she was hungrier than ever and not about to go back empty-handed.

She gathered what she could in her cauldron and took it to a makeshift fire pit on the garden's edge.

I should be able to do something with this. I can make up for the missing ingredients by using the power from the full moon.

At least she hoped so. Magic was a rare art, and witches rarer than that. The only proof that either existed were some books she had stumbled upon in a used bookstore and her own breath.

She lit the fire under the cauldron and began her chant.

"Great witches and warlocks that preceded me, that coated Earth's surface with magic and bound all people and creatures together, please lend me a fraction of your power. Enchant what I have bestowed before you and what I have destined for the goodness of all."

She clapped her hands, and with a small poof, the ingredients were reduced to a clear liquid. She dipped a few incense sticks into the cauldron and gave them a whiff.

And they smelled only of repugnant garlic.

She groaned.

She had hoped to create a pizza scent, something that could zest up her spaghetti and double as a novelty scent for the shop.

Well, at least it could be used for bread. Once she filled her glass vials, she packed them and the garlic incense into her pockets. Maybe the horrible smelling incense could be sold as a practical joke or something. Who knows. She placed those in their own vial, thankful that the magical glass would keep the smell from staining her coat.

The walk back was dark, clouds had begun to move in from the bay, cloaking the streets of Elara in shadow. She had her repellents, but Vicki was still uneasy with it all. Only hungry underdwellers would be prowling the streets at this time of night and technically, she counted as one, but she knew she looked mortal. Hopefully the others would be preoccupied with the drunk mortals laughing on the other street instead of her.

It was then that she noticed a man standing at the intersection ahead of her. He was waiting for the light to change, which in itself was odd, considering the street was empty. Vicki would typically jaywalk, it's not like the marshals would care, but it didn't feel right to do in front of a law-abiding citizen.

She kept a few paces between them and looked up at the crossing sign.

"Excuse me, but can you tell me the time? And today's date?" the man asked in a husky voice. A yawn followed. Vicki couldn't make out his features other than his blond hair and tall frame. In the full moon, underdwellers would assume their true form and he didn't seem affected at all by her charm bracelet, so from what she could tell, the guy was mortal.

She glanced at her phone and told him the information.

"So that's the hunter's blood moon then. Interesting," he said. He turned to her, and offered her a tilted, toothy smile, just wide enough for a sharp, moonlight-reflecting fang to peek from his lips. He stuck out his hand. "Thanks for the info, care to join me for a drink?"

Vicki's hand jerked to her pocket. In a single move, she uncorked the bottle of incense sticks, pulled one out, and plunged it through the outstretched hand. She ignored the string of cursing behind her as she ran to the shop and hid inside her room.

A vampire was stalking the streets of Elara. No wonder her charm bracelet had no effect. There was no point in warding away such rare and elusive creatures. No one had seen one in town in... well ever as far as she knew. But what she did know was that the minute she saw the tips of his fangs, that the 'drink' he had invited her for wasn't for a late-night beer, he had wanted to drink from her!

She dosed her spaghetti in the garlic magic.

There was no way she'd become food for an underdweller. Nope. Not again.

Never again.