Page 75 of Live Love Lasso

I lift a hand to halt Hunter’s words. “I’ll tell you both this once. I didn’t expect to find Furyon when I came here. I expected to come and learn from the potioneers at Glimmer, just like you told me to. And I have been doing that. Furyon is the cherry on top of my lovely Pine Gulch sundae.” I move closer to my father and brother. “In the short weeks I’ve been here, I’ve fallen in love with the Gulch. With the people, with the town, with Furyon. I’m not coming home, Father.”

His expression goes hard, and he balls both fists. “Absolutely not, Daughter. You’re needed in Rainbow.”

“Am I?” I cock my head to the side. “You’ve been managing without me, cleaning up after the mess you continually blame me for. Then you came here to make me feel small for my mistake.” I wave at Hunter. “He’s actually the one who picked the wrong ingredient, but you were aware of that, weren't you? You were fine letting me pay the price.” I sigh. “You were right to do that, in a way, because it was my fault I didn’t check behind him.” I glare at my brother. “I shouldn’t have had to.”

I’ve never spoken to my father like this, but I’m channeling Furyon, because he’d never let Father get away with this shit. And I don’t have to either.

Father grabs my wrist and drags me close. “Gather your things. We’re leaving.”

Rykan clears his throat. “Ahh, not right now. Lemon and I were in the final steps of a potion that needs two potioneers. She can’t leave now, or we won’t be able to complete it. It’s my understanding that you sent her here for advanced training, and that’s what we’re doing. Although, if I’m honest, she’s already at master’s level. Your daughter is very talented.”

I don’t want to push my luck too much further today. Pulling my wrist from my father’s grip, I take a few steps away. “I have work to do, Father. This potion is to help fix a major problem this haven is facing right now. I can’t leave Rykan here to do it alone.”

That part is a bold-faced lie, but Father doesn’t need to know. I guarantee he hasn’t bothered to read up on the Gulch’s current issues.

“We aren’t done talking, Lemon,” Father says. “You’ll have dinner with us when you’re finished with this.” He waves dismissively at the potions table.

I’m done being his doormat. I’ve done it for too long. It’s not easy for me to stand up to him like this, but having Rykan at my back and Furyon in my corner helps me gather my confidence.

Leveling my father with a serious look, I make my point. “Whiskey Business makes a great burger, and that sounds good to me. I’ll be having dinner there, and you’re welcome to join me.” Not to mention Bluebell’s working tonight, and if I know anything about the spicy witch, she’ll go toe to toe with my father in a second if she thinks he’s hurting my feelings.

Father sneers but nods. When he turns to go, Hunter shoots me a final irritated look, but follows.

Rykan’s quiet after they go, but claps me on the shoulder in a friendly way. “Good thing there is actually one final step, so you might as well stick around for it and avoid those two as long as possible.” He grimaces. “Family sucks sometimes, huh?”

I nod as I stare at the potion instructions. “Volcanic ash.” It’s a rare ingredient used to deepen the intensity of a potion’s initial effect. Glancing at the storage shelves set into the wall, I don’t immediately see volcanic ash. I round the big potions table to check more closely. Poking my way through giant jars and tiny bubble-shaped crocks, I frown at not finding volcanic ash among them.

Rykan clears his throat. “Try the storeroom down in the basement level where Letitia had you working earlier. I could swear I saw some there. I’ll keep stirring.”

He winks when I groan at being redirected to the basement.

“I am constantly relegated to the bottommost levels of this place,” I say with faux sass. “One of these days, I’m going to work in this room with you all the time. You’ll see.”

When I waggle a finger at him, he laughs. “I’ve no doubt, Lemon. Find me if there’s no ash down there. If it’s not there, Letitia has some in her office for sure. You can ask her.”

I head for the door, calling out over my shoulder, “We can always mix volcanic stone and cherry juice. It’s not a perfect supplement, and the math to figure out the proportions will be terrible, but it could work. Actually, I’m happy to finish this up if you need to go.”

“Brilliant,” he mumbles as I disappear down the hallway. “But yeah I might take you up on that! My mate wanted dinner if we finished in time.”

Smiling, I make my way down the long hallway and down a set of stairs into Glimmer’s basement. The potion room feels almost familiar to me after working in it several days with Letitia. Thankfully, the overflow storage shelves at the dusty room’s back appear to be filled with unique ingredients that likely don’t get used all that often.

Unfortunately, ten minutes later, there’s no sign of volcanic ash. Frowning, I head back upstairs and along the hall toward her office.

“Letitia?” I rap at the partially open door to her office. It swings slightly open, so I peek my head in. The room is empty, the oversized desk littered with potion bottles and papers like always. The Type A side of my brain eagle-screeches unhappily at seeing the disorganization, and I take a sec to remind myself that everyone’s process is different.

And that’s fine.

This is her office.

A vial of volcanic ash sits on the corner of her desk atop a stack of papers. I rush across the room and grab it, slipping it into my pocket.

A faint rustling sound pulls my attention from the vial. The giant self-portrait behind her chair moves as if something’s pushing on it from the other side. Soft scratching sounds freeze me in place, a low snuffling sound emitting from behind the painting.

Oh my gods. There’s something back there. An animal of some kind maybe?

Nerves clang in my stomach, my heart thudding in my chest as I move to the painting and grab the edge, wondering if I can lift or shove it. When I press on the edge, the painting swings along a track. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, and then I yip and leap backward.

In a small cage on a table nestled into a tiny dark alcove, a spider the size of a dog lies crouched against the rusty metal bottom. Bright red eyes narrow on me, and it scoots to the back of its enclosure, hissing as it tries to escape my reach.