Chapter Eight

Somehow Samuel survived the Saturday morning trek through the farmer's market. He despised crowds and could happily live without fresh food of any kind if it allowed him to avoid this crush of people.

John, however, seemed to thrive on the energy. One minute he was chatting with the beekeeper, selecting chunks of sticky, amber honeycomb; the next he was laughing with the girl from the flower farm; then he spotted a local organic farmer and left with another bag full of produce. The wolf was positively giddy about carrots, beets, and tomatoes, and Samuel smiled at the flush of happiness on John's face, then immediately mastered his expression.

Finally, at the end of the row, he spotted his own herbal contact. A square card table boasted nine bundles of terribly wilted leaves. The herbs looked pathetic and the Muggles were passing the stand quickly, all the while trying to avoid the proprietor's eyes. The wrinkled old man wore filthy blue jeans and an old flannel shirt. A huge straw hat eclipsed more than half of his face.

The bastard was as surly and shrewd as he looked. "My expenses have gone up. Dark herbs you've been wanting from me, not just anyone who could get 'em, you know. Forty should cover though."

"You slimy old blighter. You can't expect me to pay double what you overcharged me last month."

In the end, Samuel accepted that his wallet would have to take the hit. There really was nowhere else to get what he needed. With the full moon approaching and a Potion simmering back at home, he simply couldn't do without.

"Someday, Miller, I will find a reputable supplier, and you will be very sorry for your folly today." Samuel growled at the old man. The cur had the nerve to tip his hat in reply.

"Samuel, you can't pay that much..."

"Close your mouth, Wolfe. We can haggle over costs behind closed doors, but I do believe we have time for coffee before Jack sends out a search party."

Samuel felt the press of humanity ease from his chest as he claimed a table in the back of the coffee house. John's smile was far too wide for Samuel's comfort as he settled in with a mug of something frothy and Samuel's own black coffee. He wanted to ask if the wolf had eaten someone's canary. The question died on his lips, however, as the barista delivered a huge plate piled high with whipped cream covering a crepe that was positively oozing chocolate.

"Chocolate is supposed to have a positive effect on brain chemistry. Even better than sex."

"John, shush. We're in public. Besides, that is a highly simplified explanation of a terribly complex chemical interaction."

"All right, but you're missing out on something truly amazing." John's eyes fluttered closed as he savored the forkful of chocolate decadence. After a moment, the wolf remembered the bone from before. "Samuel, what plant could possibly be worth forty dollars?"

Samuel took a slow breath before responding. This could be a long conversation. "Glacier lily roots. He poaches them from the Northern slopes in Glacier Park. It's a long drive, the bears like them, and the fine for taking them is much more expensive than overpaying him."

"I don't remember you trying to find that herb back home."

"They replace the Valerian root, and thankfully you show no allergic reactions to the Glacier lily."

"I thought that was from my laundry soap."

"No, you should stay away from anything that includes Valerian roots or shoots. They both contain high levels of a specific protein, the leaves, however... never mind. Just be sure to ask me before taking any new potions."

"So when you moved out here, you came across the Glacier lily and recognized its full potential."

"Yes, John. I saw a picture in a book and knew it would work; I tossed some in your next batch of Wolfsbane and sent it off with Fawkes." He could feel the sarcasm dripping from his words. "How irresponsible do you think I am?" He closed his mouth quickly when he realized he was pointing at John with his fork.

"Easy, Samuel." John caught his hand and guided the fork toward the chocolate. "I think you need to eat some of this."

Samuel felt irritation melting away with the chocolate on his tongue. "Just as long as you know that I wouldn't use you as a guinea pig."

"Why didn't you tell me about the Valerian allergy?" John sounded curious, rather than accusatory.

"We were always busy with... other things back then."

"But you noticed."

"Of course I noticed. It would be hard to miss the raised red bumps that showed up a few hours after you swallowed the potion. What took some time was discovering which component was causing the reaction."

"All that time and trouble, spent on me?"

"You can stop preening."

"No, Samuel, I'm serious. Putting all of that effort into a potion for me... I'm just... well, thank you."

"You're welcome. Now do you understand why I'm willing to meet his price?"

John gave a sullen nod before his face brightened with a new idea. "Have you tried growing it in your garden?"

"Wrong climate. They grow in a very narrow range of conditions."

"There has to be a way..."

"Down, Wolfe. I have a more pressing issue to discuss. You intimated to me that you hold the Ministry responsible for Amanda's abduction. Do I understand you correctly?" After John's wary nod, Samuel plowed ahead. "Perhaps the clinic should send them a bill."

"If this is about the money, Samuel, I can..."

"This is most definitely not about money itself. That is simply the most effective motivator for change when dealing with incompetent bureaucrats and politicians. Also, I found the locations of a few high-end knitting shops in town and would dearly love to turn Amanda loose with the Ministry's credit card."

John stared at him with a blank expression until Samuel wondered if he'd pushed the man too far. And then a wicked smile filled his face. "There are several folks I'd like to see fairly compensated in such a manner..."

"And Amanda is the only one with influence over the politicians at this time. Keep your eye on the ball, John. Can you push this through?"

Wolfe closed his eyes for a brief time before pulling out his cell phone. "Harry, it's, uh, John... Yes, that's right, but I can't be more specific right now... That's great, but actually I was wondering if you could do me a favor. I want you to bill Scrimgeour for Amanda's ongoing expenses and treatment... No, the clinic's billing statement should suffice... I'll be sure to pass that along... Okay, thanks."

John's eyes sparkled with mirth as he tucked the phone away. "Harry wants to know if you played Beater for your house, and thinks your plan is 'bloody brilliant'. He's certain that, with the threat of publicity, he can push through what you'd charge an 'A List' client."

Samuel sniffed his disdain. "As long as Potter approves..."

"Oh, stop. Let's go spend the Ministry's money. That alone will be therapeutic for me."