Evan allowed the witch to wiggle from his grasp once they were outside the store. This was perfect. He would have the witch completely alone and if she had any hope of her spell being successful, she would need to clear her mind of any fear or insecurity. That would put him in the perfect position to take her blood when it was most desirable.

"You're planning to kill me, aren't you?" she asked as she took half steps towards the park. If she was planning on dragging this out, she was out of luck. Even a snail's pace would have them both in the park far before the sun came up.

When he didn't offer her an answer, she asked again.

"You won't kill Selene too, right?"

Who the hell was she talking about?

Oh, the succubus.

"Do you really think you should be worrying about her right now?"

The witch gulped, and to his surprise, she picked up her pace. She didn't really think she could outrun him, did she? He matched her, stride for stride, and never let her get more than a foot in front of him.

"And the stuff you said back there, about having the ingredients I would need. Was that a lie too?"

How could she be thinking about such inconsequential things at a time like that? Her blood smelled of paralyzing fear, but she still moved forward and asked such stupid questions. But, he decided, he would indulge her.

"That was not a lie," he said.

She stopped and turned abruptly, and he nearly tripped over her.

"So, will you at least let me create the scent before killing me? And you have to take it to Selene for the woman to pick up tomorrow."

Gods, this little witch was still attempting to control the situation. How did she summon the nerve? Of course, he would let her use her magic, that was the idea of coming all that way. So, he nodded at her.

The blanket of pepper surrounding her lightened slightly, and Evan again was stuck wondering why.

They were at the gate now, and once they crossed the threshold, the witch seemed to ignore his presence behind her. She moved as if in a trance, collecting firewood, then water from a nearby well, and mumbling some words as she set the wood beneath the cauldron ablaze.

She finally looked back at him, and Evan couldn't help but freeze when he saw her eyes. They glowed violet, a color that seemed to convey an ethereal strength he didn't think could be possible for a mixed mortal. Especially one with such muddled ancestry.

"What ingredients are we going to need?" she asked.

Evan realized he hadn't been breathing and cleared his throat as he approached the cauldron.

"Only one. The blood of an arachnid predator. I just so happen to have a near-infinite supply," he said. He then brought his hand to his mouth, the same hand that the witch had stabbed a week prior. He allowed his fangs to lengthen triple the length of a normal mortal, and he didn't take his eyes off the witch as he pierced his own skin.

She didn't even flinch. He thought she would at least have some kind of reaction. A grimace, a frown, something. These were the same fangs that would cause her death, how could she be so blasé about it?

"Just a few drops are necessary," she said, unimpressed.

Evan felt his ears get hot. He put his hand over the pot and allowed a few drops of his blood to fall into it. The witch turned away as he licked his wounds to heal them.

He took in her profile as she closed her eyes and put her hands together. It was nearly angelic, the way she stood there, saying her incantation. Giving thanks to her ancestors, whoever the hell they were. And even giving them credit for placing magic into the spirit lines across the earth. What a crock that was.

Then the fire began licking further and further up the sides of the cauldron, and a breeze brushed at his ankles. The witch's black dress and dark hair danced in the air, surrounding her like a veil. The air went from peppery to citrusy then to the sweet scent he recognized.

This was it.

He began to move towards her.

The magic in the air wavered, the fragrance swinging from sweet to sour. Evan noticed the witch's eyebrows furrow as the scent changed before she let out a loud gasp as if she were running out of air.

He hadn't even touched her yet.

She crumbled to the floor and covered her face.

This wasn't part of the plan. Not his anyway. Had she done this on purpose? The spell had obviously failed, that much he knew.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I...I can't do it. I can't make something new without the power from a full moon," she said.

Evan retracted his fangs. He should have expected something like this. She was trying to trick him by telling him some made-up ogre shit about needing a full moon.

As if he was that ignorant.

"You're not fooling anyone, witch."

She looked up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. The smell of wet asphalt swept through the area as if it had been raining.

Evan's shoulders dropped.

"Your coven didn't tell you that confidence was the only power you needed to conjure magic?"

She shook her head. "I never belonged to a coven," she said, punctuating her words with wet sobs.

"Surely your mother..."

"I never met her either."

Medusa's tits. He dragged his hand through his hair. How did this self-taught witch manage to hurt him when they first met? And how was she running a business by herself? Gods, she couldn't even keep her own blood off the merchandise she sold.

"Get up, let's try this again," he said. When she didn't move, he repeated himself. Finally, she came to her feet and Evan could still see the light bouncing off of a few tears sticking to her face. Just seeing them ate at his insides. Probably because she had always gotten the better of him and was now crying over something stupid.

"My blood will do most of the heavy lifting for this spell, you just need to do what you always do. You've got this," he said.

He took a few steps back as she put her hands together again. The wet smell in the air dissipated, leaving behind a citrus odor.

Not good.

"I'll be waiting outside the gates, okay?"

She shook her head yes but didn't open her eyes. Evan hid himself instead of going outside of the garden as he had said. For some reason, he felt compelled to watch her.

As it did before, a breeze swirled around her enveloping the garden in a sweet fragrance. The cauldron began rising from the flames and the fire grew to meet it in midair.

He was well versed in magic, having read countless books in his family's library on the subject, but he had never seen it up close. Witches were exceptionally rare, and usually limited to small covens littered across the various continents. He never expected to see a witch like the one in front of him.

He almost felt...attracted to her, but that was probably the after-effects of her magic. Yeah, that made sense.

A puff of smoke came from the cauldron and the environment stilled. The sweet scent left again, and a subdued pepperiness took its place.