I check my watch. 10:17 p.m. Late. The town is quiet, the windows of the shops dark. The driver is still waiting.
My mind returns to June Finch. A woman in a backwater town who can brew a potion to fool a door. That’s not just skill; it’s ingenuity. It’s a mind that sees the rules of magic and finds a way to bend them. The Council values minds like that. Or, failing that, it neutralizes them.
The thought begins to form, taking shape in the quiet of the car. I came here to manage a problem, to collect data. But perhaps I was looking at the wrong variable. The town’s resistance is a symptom. June Finch is the disease.
If I could talk to her, reason with her… appeal to her logic. The Rift is a danger. Uncontrolled magic is a danger. The Council brings order. Surely a woman of her intellect can see the sense in that.
But then I remember the defiance in the Town Hall, the blind loyalty to their sheriff. Logic might not be enough. Everyone has a price. It’s a fundamental truth of the universe. Maybe hers isn’t money. Maybe it’s rare ingredients. A guarantee of safety for her family. A seat at a table where she could practice her craft without the limitations of this place. An incentive.
I could offer her the world. Or I could make her regret ever choosing this small town over it.
The decision solidifies in my mind, a clear point of focus. The hotel can wait. The report is sent. The next move is mine.
I lean forward, tapping on the partition between the front and back seats. It slides down with a faint whir.
“Change of plans,” I say to the driver.
“Yes, sir?”
“Take me to the apothecary. The one on the main square. Finch’s.”
The driver nods, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror for a brief moment before he puts the car in drive. We pull away from the curb, the sedan’s headlights cutting a clean, white path through the darkness of the sleeping town.
The game has changed.
And I am done playing by their rules.
Potion of Grounding:
Steep oak bark and sage. Drink during storms.
The bell above the apothecary door chimes its final, weary note as June flips the sign to CLOSED. The sound echoes in the sudden silence that follows the storm of the town meeting, a lonely, metallic ping that vibrates through the floorboards and up into my bones.
The air inside is a mix of competing scents—dried herbs and protective tinctures, the sharp citrus of cleaning solution, and underneath it all, the lingering metallic tang of fear that clung to the townspeople like a second skin.
“I can’t believe them.” June paces the length of the shop, her movements sharp and agitated. The worn floorboards groan in protest under the force of her boots. “Fucking Council. They think they know best. We’ve lived in this town longer than anyone else. Other than the flares, what have the Omegas even done? What would justify them being forced onto a dating app?I heard Pastor Gide talking about how all the Alphas from other towns will come flocking here, turn this place into a goddamn brothel.”
Her brother, August, sits on a high stool behind the counter, his hands wringing a scrap of burlap twine into a mangled knot. He was helping with the potion bottling, his movements usually efficient and precise, but now he just looks pale, his face sallow in the warm lamplight.
“What if it’s not a story, June? What if the Council learns about what we did? What if they fucking arrest us? Take the shop?”
“They can’t arrest us for brewing a protection potion,” I say, my voice coming out more tired than I intended. I lean against the solid comfort of the counter, the cool wood a small relief against my back. “That’s not how the Council works. They deal in large-scale infractions, in threats to the delicate balance, not… neighborhood disputes.”
“It’s not a neighborhood dispute when they’re making lists of Omegas!” June stops her pacing to jab a finger in the direction of the Town Hall, as if she can see Silas Thorn through the walls. “This is a precursor. A test. And I know they have sent an envoy who is working for them. I thought that Silas guy was only here to help with the Rift, but now I know. The Council never meddles if they don’t benefit. I don’t trust them, that whole lot of them.”
Her anger is a living thing, a crackling energy that fills the small space, making the air feel charged and heavy. I understand it. I feel it too, a hot coal of resentment in my gut that has been smoldering since Thorn opened his mouth. But underneath it all, a different kind of heat is starting to build, an insidious warmth that has nothing to do with anger. It’s a deep, internal flush that I’m trying desperately to ignore.
“Did you see the way Tessa looked?” June continues, her rant gaining momentum like a rolling thundercloud. “Like she wasgoing to pass out right there in the third row. And Damon… he tried, I’ll give him that. He at least tried to reason with us. But what can he really do against the Council? One sheriff against a force that can erase a town from the map?”
August’s gaze drifts toward the door, as if he expects enforcers in black tactical gear to materialize on the other side of the glass. “Maybe we should stop. Maybe we should just tell everyone the wards are off. It’s not worth the risk. The shop… our lives…”
“No.” June and I say it at the same time.
“We don’t back down,” June adds as she turns to face her brother. “Not when we’re in the right. That’s exactly what they want. They want to divide us, make us turn on each other in fear. We stick together. That’s the only way we have a chance.”
She looks at August, her expression softening just a fraction. “Besides, someone has to look out for Tessa. And I saw the way you were looking at her, August, all concerned and protective. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”
A flush creeps up August’s neck, a splotch of color against his pallor. “I was just being nice. She’s scared.”
