The Orphan and the Thief

Chapter 3: Melena Catches a Toad

It was long past midnight and Melena Snead was bent over a heavy, simmering cauldron. She was adding the final ingredients to a love potion for one of her secret customers, secret because Mr. Bell would throw her into the Banks River if he found out she was selling potions to his customers. Mr. Bell and his wife, Mrs. Bell, owned the worst apothecary in East Hickory. They had 'adopted' Melena from St. Brenda's Orphanage three years ago, putting Melena to work immediately: cooking, cleaning, and carrying Mrs. Bell's purchases on her daily shopping trips.

The thirteen year old rubbed her tired eyes and prodded Hazel, her bright green Spit-Fire dragon, to shift off Edgar Bartholomew's Guide to All Things Potion so that she could check the ingredient list for Miss Tubber's Siren Song. Melena wished she'd refused to make the potion. It was tedious and fussy and would keep her up all night, but Melena needed the money from these under-the-counter transactions. Money would free her of the Bells. Money would hire the private detective on Waldon Street. Money would find Milo. Melena brushed away her longing for sleep at the thought of the money pouch hidden under her lumpy mattress. She knew the amount by heart, but that didn't stop her from counting the gorents, silvertons, and druets in the pouch every night before tucking in. Impressive for a year of secret brewing, but not enough.

The liquid in the cauldron was the palest of pinks. A slightly sinister bitter smell wafted under her nose. Satisfied that the potion was at the correct stage, Melena pulled a large mortar toward her and began to crush rose hips. She added them along with a crumbling of fairy wings to the brew. One, two, three stirs and the pink softened to a mother-of-pearl. She picked up a drawstring bag of pricklebirch seeds —

CRASH!

Melena jumped, dropping the bag onto the floor, the seeds scattering to all corners of the room. The crash had sounded from somewhere inside the shop. She stood paralyzed, staring at the closed door of the workroom. Hazel clambered up onto Melena's shoulder and peered at the door as well.

Melena held her breath, waiting for a noise from upstairs, but the Bells slumbered on. And then she heard another sound within the shop, a sound of rustling, like someone was moving among the shelves.

A burglar.

Melena inched to the door and gently eased it open as Hazel gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze with her claws. The inside of the shop was dark, but moonlight poured through the front window, casting a blue pool of light upon the shelves.

Her breath caught in her throat. Someone was moving among the shelves. Melena could see his dark form, she could hear the tinkling of glass as he moved bottles aside.

"Don't move!"

The thief froze.

"If you leave this instant, I won't alert anyone," Melena said in a whisper that she hoped sounded far fiercer than she felt.

The thief groaned, dropping his arms in frustration.

"Look, could you just give me a minute?" he snapped. "It's been a long day." He resumed searching the shelf.

Melena blinked in surprise. The voice didn't sound like it belonged to a grown man, and now that she came to think of it, stepping nearer, the thief was short — maybe just a hair taller than herself.

"Well, you really shouldn't be stealing," she pointed out, stung.

The boy snorted in derision. Another bottle fell off the shelf.

"What are you looking for?" Melena asked quickly, shooting a nervous glance at the dark stairwell. If the Bells discovered her midnight brewing habit they would flay her alive ... or worse, set her to making all their potions for them. She would never receive another druet. "Maybe I could help you find it before the Bells wake up."