Crossover-ish. Set between Proven Guilty and White Knight. Molly's POV, feat. two of my favorite characters from BTVS in a happier ending than they got.
"What are we here to get again?"
"Uhhh." I checked the list the Boss had given me. I still wasn't sure what most of it was for, since I was still a noob-level apprentice who needed supervision on supply runs. "Black salt, crushed opal, dried juniper, and a couple other things…"
I scanned the shelves of The Heart-Shaped Box, trying not to knock over a display of huge quartz crystals and clear glass orbs. The shop was tiny, crammed between a check-cashing place and a nail salon. It smelled like palo santo and old books and coffee, and a little like nail polish remover. The shelves on the wall were crammed with magical knicknacks from floor to ceiling; glimmering spheres and bundles of sage, runestones and raven skulls and athames and jars of mysterious ingredients, all labeled in loopy handwriting with hearts dotting the I's.
It was real magic stuff, too. I could feel the hum of energy coming from every direction. It was a little overwhelming and I was doing my best not to let it show, but my babysitter didn't miss much.
"Mm," said Sergeant Murphy, who was still suspended from work, and had volunteered to drive. She had been really nice to me lately — not pitying-me nice, or scared-of-me nice, or worse, trying-to-force-a-friendship nice. Just regular nice, which was honestly weird enough. She bumped me with an elbow and pointed out a beaded dreamcatcher with peacock feather tassels. "Gotta say, I love the vibe of this place. It's very… uh. It's — like Stevie Nicks' garage sale."
"You really think so?" asked the red-haired woman that suddenly popped up on the other side of the shelf that ran through the middle of the store. I jumped. Murphy didn't.
"Sure," the policewoman said dryly. "You're one fringed scarf and a tambourine away from a music video."
"Fresh out of tambourines." The shop owner laughed as she reached across the shelf and pulled the list out of my hand. Her fingertips brushed mine and I felt the staticky jolt of power from another practitioner. "But we just restocked the juniper. It's responsibly sourced. And Tara just made a new batch of crushed opal last week."
"... Cool," I said, as she gathered the list items and toted them to the blonde woman behind the counter. Murphy and I followed. I handed over the money Harry had given me, and the cashier counted back my change while the redhead put the purchases in a paper bag. "Thank you."
"And what about you, honey? Did you find anything you can't live without?"
"I'll give you twenty bucks for that." Murphy pointed at the cork bulletin board on the nearest wall. It was covered in roller derby and pottery class flyers, some pamphlets for a yoga retreat and a poster for an open mic night at a local coffee shop. There was a row of Polaroids, too; pictures of shoplifters and stuff, and among them a blurry photo of one sheepish, frowning wizard in a long dark coat, leaning on a staff.
BANNED, read the magic marker caption. HARRY DRESDEN, BROKE ONE ANCIENT OBSIDIAN RELIQUARY (CURSED).
"You're not planning on doing anything nefarious with this," the redhead paused as she pulled the thumbtack out, but only for a second.
"Not nefarious," Murphy grinned as she handed over a pair of tens and waved the photo victoriously as we headed to the door. "Just embarrassing. Let's go, Molly. We have a few more stores to hit if we're going to collect all of these."
Oh, boy. Apparently our sergeant was one of those people who goes a little off the rails when they're out of work for longer than a few days. And that was kinda my fault, so it was my duty to help her out, right?
She needed a project.
"We'll need to stop by a craft store, too," I said, and she gave me a funny look. "For scrapbooking supplies. We'll need glitter glue, some sparkly stickers," I explained, nodding at the incriminating photo.
She just grinned and tossed me the car keys.
Next up: Horns