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He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “Mostly. Yes. But listen, I’ve got the best idea. And before you yell at me, just hear me out for a second.” He lifted his hands up to his face, palms out, then parted them with a flourish. “Homebrewing.”
I raised an eyebrow at him, folding my arms. “Homebrewing. Really.”
Florian scowled. “Yes, really. I’ve done this before, and I’m really, really good at it. I can make ale and wine, as long as I have access to raw materials.” He pointed his finger at me, cocking it like a gun. “And because I’m super good at nature magic and stuff, I can accelerate the process, make sure we only get the finest ingredients. I swear to you, we’ll make a killing. It’ll be the best wine you’ve ever tasted. Ever.”
I shrugged. “Can’t drink. I’m like eighteen, buddy.”
“Even behind closed doors?”
I stiffened. “It’s the principle of it.”
He scratched his forehead, frowning harder. “It was rhetorical, anyway. The point is, people are going to love the stuff I make. We can bottle and sell it. And again: acceleration. If we can find someone who’ll buy it, I can have a couple dozen bottles of the good stuff by the end of the week.”
I chewed the corner of my bottom lip, still unconvinced. “I’m iffy on this, Florian. I like that you clearly – very clearly gave this a lot of thought.”
He stuck his chest out, proud of his long, hard afternoon of mostly sitting in the dark and thinking.
“But we’ll get shut down in no time. You need permits for this kind of thing, to make sure it’s safe to consume. We’d get in so much trouble. You can’t just bootleg alcohol and sell it wherever you want.”
He cocked another finger-gun at me, clicking his tongue and winking. “Or can you?”
I shut my eyes and squeezed the bridge of my nose. “Florian. Please. Can you not?”
The sudden force grabbing me by the shoulders took me by surprise, and my eyes flew open to the sight of Florian’s face just dangerous inches away from mine. My eyes went wide with terror, but at least he smelled nice. Like freshly cut grass. Maybe that was a dryad thing. Sorry, male dryad thing.
“You’re not thinking big enough, Mace,” Florian said, leaning in uncomfortably close, his moss-green eyes manic and darting with excitability. “We don’t live in the real world, remember? This is the arcane underground. You don’t sell to the normals. We find a pretentious hipster gourmet grocer down at the Black Market and sell through them. Who needs permits and licenses and junk when they know this stuff is being brewed by a bonafide, super handsome dryad?”
It all clicked for me then. I grinned, despite my previous misgivings. “Florian. I could kiss you. I think you might secretly be a genius.”
“Maybe I am!” He let go of me, pedaling backwards as a peal of gleeful, boyish laughter escaped his throat. He clasped his hands together, mumbling at top speed. “Imagine the possibilities. We could find clients right in the Black Market. And if we don’t end up killing anyone, which we won’t, because I’m amazing, then word of mouth will kick in and we’ll keep selling more and more of the stuff.”
My eyes went as distant as his, staring at, I could only assume, the same place that he saw. I presumed that it was also a swimming pool full of money. “Enough to make rent,” I said.
“Think bigger. Enough to move out of this crappy apartment. We could be happy someplace we don’t have to sleep with rats, Mason.” He thrust his fists into his hips, his chest swelling with pride. “I’ll finally be pulling my weight.”
I stepped over, shaking my head as I clapped him on the shoulder. “I underestimated you, buddy. Maybe we can make this work, after all. We just need supplies.”
“That we do.”
I pantomimed holding an invisible pen over an invisible clipboard. “I’m all ears.”
“We need lots of vessels. Clay pots, we used in the old days, but jars will do just as well. Mason jars.” He laughed. “Get it?”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re a laugh riot. What else?”
“Fresh water. And raw ingredients. Good fruit. Lots and lots of it. Doesn’t matter what it is, I’ll make it taste amazing.” He rubbed his chin. “But we don’t exactly have money to go buying all that stuff.”
I rubbed my chin as well, unconsciously mirroring his body language. “Wait. So all you really need is access to a bunch of plants, right? Then you can use your magic, maybe call stuff up from beneath the earth, and then it’s like a shopping spree.”
He cocked his head and shrugged. “Well, it’s a little more complicated than that, but you’ve got the idea.”
I snapped my fingers. “Then I’ve got just the right place. But it’s late, so we’re not going to be able to just strut in through the front door.” I raced to my bedroom, grabbing my backpack and stuffing it with the darkest clothes I owned. Florian followed me, puzzled, and I tossed an oversized black sweater at his face in answer. “What are your thoughts on breaking and entering?”
12
Well, not just breaking and entering, actually. More like breaking and entering with some good old vandalism on top.
Now, normally, I would never condone any sort of crime, whether mundane or magical. But given the choice between kidnapping some plants from a botanical garden and killing two death witches, I was obviously going to go with the fruit.
