Neon Blue by E Frost (best big ereader .TXT) 📕

I nod. Every morning’s a brewing morning at the moment, because we’re busy, and I’m grateful for that. I shake the bag of coffee beans I’ve just bought. “I got hazelnut crème. Want yours black?”

The lighthouse smile widens. “Yes, please.”

I make a mental note and make my way through the empty reception area into my office, shedding layers as I go. Jacket and scarf in the closet. Sweater over the back of the chair. Protective bracelets and rings into the small pot on my desk; they get in the way while I’m brewing. Files on the bookcase by the door; I’ll think about them later. This morning is a brewing morning, and that means two things. One, fresh coffee. I cook better when I’ve had my fix. And two, the next hour or so will be dedicated to brewing a batch of fertility potion. The secret ingredient behind the clinic’s success. It’s not a terribly complicated potion, but it’s slow and exacting.

I shrug into my work smock and pass through my office into the storeroom that I’ve converted into a hearth room. The lights come on as I enter. Not the clinic’s halogens. Witch-lights. Cool and blue near the door. Warm amber at the back where my cauldron hangs suspended. The sweet notes of vervain, rosemary and lavender rush up my nose, stirred by my entrance. They mask the smell of stale coffee, and old blood.

I make the coffee first. Two sugars for Doctor Lin Hua, the clinic director and my partner of just over five months. One sugar for me and Ruth, our nurse. Black for Evonne, but spiked with tincture of astragalus, which I’ve been giving her to ease her carpal tunnel syndrome. While the coffee brews, I start up the gas burner under my cauldron. So much easier than wood or coal. From the fridge under my workbench I pull out four gallons of goat’s milk and, from the locker next to the fridge, a two-pound bag of dried pig’s blood. That’s the only problem with fertility potions. Quantity. It’s not a one-off potion. It needs to be drunk every day. Which means when we’re busy, I need to brew every day.

The rich aroma of the coffee reaches me as I finish pouring the goat’s milk into the cauldron. I turn down the flame and retreat to the coffee-pot. I’m stirring in the sugars when Evonne buzzes me.

“Good timing,” I say into the intercom. “Coffee’s ready.”

“Ooo, I’m on my way. Listen, Lin’s just been called out to Mass. General. Problem with a birth. She asked if you could cover her ten o’clock.”

“Sure.” I retreat the few steps to the cauldron and turn off the burner. One sure way to ruin the potion is to scald the milk.

Evonne meets me at the door and relieves me of two cups. “Lin’ll be destroyed when she realizes she’s missed hazelnut.”

I grin. “At least I know you all value me for something.”

Evonne winks at me. “Her ten o’clock is here. I’ve left the file on your desk. Do you want a minute before I show them in?”

“Please.” I take my coffee to my desk and sit down to have a quick flip through the file. Mr. and Mrs. McNulty. Thirty-two and thirty-six respectively. Both professionals. No previous children. She’s been on oral contraceptives since her teens. After they married four years ago, she came off them to try to have a baby. No joy. They’ve been to half a dozen specialists. He’s got low sperm count so they tried I.V.F. Twice. No successful implantations.

I sigh and close the file. Four years of frustration and sadness. All that wasted time and energy. I take a sip of coffee and buzz Evonne.

“Could you show Mr. and Mrs. McNulty in?”

I rise to meet them. Mrs. McNulty’s first through the door. Glossy black hair styled high on her head; matching bright red lips, nails and high heels. That much color-coordination always makes me nervous. Expensive brown linen suit. I guess brown really is the new black.

I smooth my moon-and-stars work smock self-consciously and hold out my hand.

She shakes like a man, hard and a moment too long. Gives way to Mister, who is a shadow of his wife in conservative blue. A banker, I remember from the file. Bet Misses had to drag him here by his blue-and-red tie. Mister has a jellyfish shake. The kind that always makes me want to wipe my hand off afterwards. Instead, I smile and gesture to the two guest chairs in front of my desk.

“We thought we were seeing Dr. Hua,” says Misses, aggressive right out of the box.

“I’m sorry. Dr. Hua had to assist with a birth this morning.”

“Are you a doctor?” asks Mister. He speaks slowly, like he’s considering each word, while he looks around. There’s not much to see. My almost-bare desk. The upholstered guest chairs, filing cabinet, bookcase, office plants. My office doesn’t scream witch. My spellbooks, potion ingredients, casting circle, star charts, cauldron – they’re all in the back.

“No, I’m not. I’m a licensed midwife.” I nod at my license, which is framed on the wall behind them. Mister twists around in his chair to look at it.

Misses ignores the license and holds my eyes. “Dr. Hua comes very highly recommended,” she says. Still all aggression.

“I’m happy to hear that.” Time for me to take control. “Now, I’d like to ask you a few questions and then discuss a course of treatment.”

Mister turns back around and joins his wife in looking a little disgruntled, but they both nod.

“I’m sure you understand that we practice alternative medicine here. Dr. Hua specializes in acupuncture and I specialize in herbal therapy. Do either of you have personal or religious beliefs that would prevent you from participating in these treatments?”

Mister – who listed his religion as Catholic on the intake questionnaire – glances at Misses, but she shakes her head and taps her bright red fingernails against the wooden arm of the chair.

“I also