Drink Me
Chapter 9 of The Impossible Apothecary
Hey campers. Sorry about no new chapter last week, but I have been doing some revisions. I don’t have an editor, so I treat all of these chapters like drafts, and occasionally either someone points something out, or we find an issue during reviews. Or sometimes there are events in the story that could use a stronger foundation earlier. Or, maybe we just feel like it, it’s our story after all.
That being said, I hope you enjoy the 9th chapter. For anyone that is concerned that this cozy story is going a bit slow, fear not, because things are going to start picking up!
For anyone that just stumbled onto our story through this chapter, I linked the table of contents below so you can go back and start at the beginning of our cozy fantasy adventure with Fluidity, our favorite little goth witch. And make sure you subscribe for chapters every Thursday, and possibly bonus releases on off days that you wont want to miss!
Chapter 9
Drink Me
Flu toiled in her lab over her new project, a half-finished cup of coffee from Caroline’s Cafe getting cold beside the worktable. Flu had begun stopping at the cafe in the mornings, partly because the coffee was good and partly because the man behind the counter, whose name she had learned was Roger, never seemed especially alarmed by her. He didn’t speak much, but he treated her just like all of the other customers, letting her start her day with a hint of normalcy.
The villagers in the shop had not begun acting any more welcoming to her during her morning trip to the cafe, but the whispers and staring had evolved into general visible unease and hushed conversations, which she was going to take as a win. Nobody ran to hide anymore when she walked down the street, and many had instead begun acting as though they simply did not see her at all. Hopefully the project laid out on her table would be another step in the right direction.
Flu’s concentration was broken by the soft tinkle of a bell letting her know someone was at the Main Street shop. After installing the fairy door so she could work from home, she had also connected the bell above the door to another small bell in her home using a simple synchronizing spell so she could work in her lab and still know if someone entered the shop.
The sound had caught her off guard, and she jumped at the sound. She assumed it was Fern visiting once again, and Flu felt a tinge of excitement at showing her the latest effort to win over the community. Passing through the magical doorway that connected her home with the storefront, she smiled, expecting to see Fern standing there, but instead saw a rather nervous looking badger woman glancing around the shop from just inside the door as if this was as far as her plans had gone.
Putting on her best smile and friendly tone, Flu stepped out from around the counter. She had a potential customer, the first one, unless you counted Petal coming to her home at night.
“Welcome to the apothecary. How can I help you?”
The woman started, as if she had been surprised by the shop actually being attended. She looked at Flu, obvious anxiety written across her face.
“I-I was wondering if you had anything I could take f-for my allergies,” she asked in a nervous tone, obviously doing all she could to not look at Flu, but also not at her surroundings. The effort was not going especially well. “The… um… the merchant that I normally buy my tonic from already moved on last night and I didn’t get a chance to buy more.”
Flu kept her cheerful demeanor with a calm tone lest the woman suddenly bolt, which she still appeared to be considering. The woman was clearly not only nervous, but in obvious distress. Her eyes were red around the edges, and she kept wiping at her nose with a small handkerchief.
“Of course. Please, come sit down and I’ll put something together for you.” Flu pulled out a small stool in front of the counter and gestured for her to sit. The woman pulled her knitted shawl tightly, and cautiously stepped closer to take a seat. She continued to avoid eye contact, but thanked her quietly.
“You said the merchant usually sells you a tonic for your allergies. Was it effective? Do you know what was in it so maybe I could get you something similar?” Flu made her way to a shelf pulling down some tools and setting them on the counter.
The woman shook her head. “No. I don’t.”
Reaching into her pocket, the woman produced a small bottle and handed it to Flu.
Flu took the familiar looking bottle and read the label.
Ezekiel’s Miracle Tonic. She remembered seeing that before, but hadn’t paid much attention to it at the time. Syrups and simple tonics were commonly sold in shops and by merchants. As she turned it over in her hand she read the small print.
Ezekiel’s Miracle Tonic is made from a secret recipe passed down through generations of mystics and healers. Recommended for coughs, colds, achy joints, sore backs, nervous exhaustion, cramps, headaches, fever, chills, sniffles, seasonal complaints, neurasthenia, sour moods, foggy minds, hysteria, mysterious twinges, fatigue, general malaise, full bodily unpleasantness and more!
Flu shook her head and put down the bottle. There was no tonic or elixir that she knew of that did all of that. Most were sugary syrups with a high alcohol content. She made a mental note to look up “neurasthenia” later, but for now she focused on her patient. Handing the bottle back to the woman, she gave her a gentle smile.
“I think I can whip something up for you,” she said as she began gathering jars and pouches from around the shop. She could see the woman looking nervously around the room, still trying to look anywhere but at Flu. Her hands tightly clenched in her lap, clutching her handkerchief.
As she worked, Flu tried to put the woman at ease.
“I am glad you stopped in. You run the sundry shop down the road, Angelina, right?” Flu had remembered her from her first day arriving in the village.
“What? O-oh, yes,” she replied nervously, looking in Flu’s general direction, but looking away as if something of great interest had grabbed her attention in a bare corner of the room. “My husband and I.”
Flu smiled as she continued to organize her materials.
“It always smells so wonderful in the morning. I’ve been meaning to stop in to try something.” What she meant was she had wanted some delicious pastries, but remembered frightening the woman as she rode into town by asking if her frock had any pockets, and was now just too embarrassed, but she kept that to herself. “Do you have any specialties you would recommend?”
For the first time, Flu had seemed to grab the woman’s attention, though it didn’t seem to ease any of her tension.
“Well… the honey cakes are popular,” she noted, sounding slightly more comfortable for the first time. “If you like something sweet in the mornings. We also make a wide selection of breads.”
“Honey cakes sound absolutely lovely,” Flu responded, unsure of how much progress she was really making with the woman. Small talk was not really her strong suit, though she knew it would need to be something she worked on if she were going to integrate into the community.
That was one of those skills Nana never really had much use for. When you work as a mysterious bog witch in a swamp and some poor traveler treks kilometers through a cursed forest, empty conversation is usually at the bottom of the list of expectations. More often it involved cackling and general enigmatic mystery.
“You need to give them what it is they expect when they seek you out,” she would always say. Flu was unsure of exactly how to translate this to her current situation. What the people of Tansy Vale seemed to expect from her was being cursed, or devoured by ambling luggage. Maybe changing their expectations would be the solution.
She worked in silence for a moment, combining ingredients and pouring them into a paper pouch. Stepping around the counter she gave the woman a smile and offered her the packet.
“This should do the trick. Just brew a cup of tea in the morning, maybe add a touch of that honey you use for the cakes if your throat is bothering you and you should be as good as morning mist. And please, feel free to stop back in and let me know how it works for you, and I can always adjust the mixture.”
Even though it was exactly what she had come for, the woman still eyed the pouch with visible uncertainty. After an awkward pause she nodded.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. Slipping the packet into a pocket, she pulled out her coin purse. “What do I owe you?” There was real fear behind the question, almost as if she expected Flu to ask for a binding pact that included her soul in exchange for a sachet of tea.
Flu smiled, happy to have a somewhat normal interaction with one of the townsfolk. “That’s two silver.”
The woman hurriedly dug in her purse and handed over the coins, practically shoving them in Flu’s hand before turning for the door to make a hurried escape.
“Have a nice day,” Flu called out as the woman tried to run out without looking like she was fleeing. She was unsuccessful.
Flu stood and looked at the door for a moment as it slowly swung closed and the woman disappeared from sight. Letting out a small sigh, she turned and headed back to the storeroom door.
“I’ve got to finish this thing so I can start gaining their trust,” she thought to herself as she sat back at her work table and picked up where she had left off.
To her surprise, the bell announcing visitors rang three more times that day. While she was happy to receive customers, she couldn’t help but be a little annoyed at the repeated interruptions to her work on her special project. Each time someone entered the shop it was very much the same as the woman that morning. A reluctant customer looking for assistance, not because they wanted to partake of her services, but out of a lack of options. All of them had run out of the so-called Miracle Elixir.
The elixir seemed especially prevalent in the village. Was the whole town using this stuff? She heard several mentions of the currently absent merchant that came through town regularly, and she decided she would need to meet this person next time they passed through and get more information about this elixir and its bold claims.
After closing the shop for the day, she could finally focus on her work. A stitch here, a small spell there and it would be done.
“I need them to trust me,” she said to the room.
The Apothecary gave a questioning creak in response.
“Yes, I think this is going to help. It just seems like it is still missing something.”
In response, a small cabinet door opened and a spool of black thread fell onto the table. Flu picked it up and replaced it on the shelf.
“No, that’s not it. This needs to be different. What I was doing before wasn’t working. And like Nana always says, if you aren’t willing to do something different, nothing is going to change.”
The cottage gave a sad sounding groan in reply.
“Well what else could she have meant? I want a different result so I am doing something different.” A hint of frustration entered her voice.
The cabinet opened again, slower this time, and the black thread tipped over and rolled across the table until it touched her hand. Flu let out a soft sigh as she replaced it again.
“I said no,” she responded curtly. Taking a deep breath she tried to relax and put a hand on the dark wood of the beam next to her.
“I’m sorry, buddy. I just… I need this to work. I am running out of ideas. We both know what happens if this doesn’t work.”
The space creaked again with a series of little pops and a low, sorrowful groan.
Flu rested her forehead against the beam.
“I know,” she whispered. “But I don’t know what else to do.”
The room settled around her, warm and worried.
Tomorrow would be different. It had to be.
With a small gesture of her hand, the candles went dark.