Ribbing and Runes

doing a stand-up routine, the way she seemed to find me so amusing. “But she didn’t die from the hex. I do keep up with the news, Lucy. That woman was murdered.”
“So you did sell her the hex.” Ha, she’d as good as admitted it. Was I good at subtle interrogation or what?
She shrugged her shoulders. “The murdered woman’s photograph was in the paper and on television. She looked familiar.”
I felt like I really wasn’t getting anywhere. “What about our first rule, do no harm?”
Her beautifully penciled eyebrows rose. “And what about the equally potent advice to be careful what you wish for?”
“But if I hadn’t reversed the hex—”
She interrupted me. “Yes. If you hadn’t interfered, it would have been much better. How dare you get involved in things you don’t understand? To manipulate spells that were not of your own creation.”
Wait a minute. How had we gone from me accusing her of being a bad witch to her turning it back on me? I felt like yet another curse had been reversed. And this time I was the victim.
“I think what Lucy means,” Sylvia interrupted silkily, “is that we admire your work greatly. However, if a hex is intended for another witch in Oxford, it would be courteous to let the local witches know of it.”
That wasn’t at all what I’d meant, but it did smooth over an awkward moment. And I supposed Sylvia had a point. I couldn’t stop the woman from selling hexes, but at least if she was selling them in my neighborhood, I’d like to know about it. So I nodded.
Karmen sat back. “All right. That seems fair. And—” She raised a finger. Even her hands were perfect. The skin soft and the oval fingernails painted soft pink. How did she do that? Between making potions and practicing with my dagger and running a knitting shop, my hands were always dry and a little rough. “You agree to do the same. If you plan to sell any of your wares here, you’ll let me know.”
The only thing I might sell in Wallingford was wool and knitting kits, but I didn’t think she’d care about those, so I said nothing and sipped more tea.
Karmen had been sending frequent glances Sylvia’s way and finally asked, “What is your skin-care regime? Your complexion is remarkable for a woman your age. If I may say so.”
Sylvia never liked to be reminded that she hadn’t been a young woman when she’d been turned. Still, she was beautiful in a silver-haired, Helen Mirren way.
Her smile was brittle as she answered, “My secret is that I think only positive thoughts.”
I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from bursting out with laughter. That was not the Sylvia I knew.
“And of course,” Sylvia added sweetly, “I stay out of the sun.”
Good thing I wasn’t drinking tea at the time or I’d have snorted it up my nose. The witch nodded. “Absolutely. Nothing ages us like sun damage.” Then she turned her attention to me. “I hope you’re using sunscreen every day. You’re what, thirty?”
“Not quite.” I had my feminine vanity too. Okay, my next birthday would be my thirtieth, but I was hanging on to my twenties as hard as I could. I was happy that my wedding would come first.
In my turn, I gushed. “And your skin looks amazing, too,” I said to the witch. “And you’re, what, forty? What’s your secret?” Oh, two could play the how-old-are-you game.
The glance she shot me was both calculating and amused. “I always think age is a state of mind, don’t you? And my skin products will definitely help keep you young.”
“Lucy’s getting married soon,” Sylvia said. “Do you have anything special to help her stay young-looking?”
I nearly choked on my tea. What was she doing?
However, Karmen looked delighted. Or pretended to look delighted. Hard to tell yet which it was. She jumped to her feet. “Absolutely. I’m going to give you a jar of my best face cream. It’s got SPF50. It will keep your skin looking dewy and help prevent that sun damage we were talking about.”
She got up and left the room, and with the ease of frequent practice, Sylvia and I swapped mugs. There was about a quarter cup of tea left in mine, which now sat in front of the vampire. I gulped down as much of Sylvia’s tea as I could before the witch returned, holding one of her blue glass jars, although the label on this one was different. It had extra writing on it in gold.
“This is from my private collection,” she said with a significant look. “I put a little extra in this.”
I chuckled. “I’m not above a little magic if it will keep me looking younger.” But was it really going to last for forty years? I was suspicious.
I opened the lid of her private collection cream and sniffed. It smelled wonderful.
I had to wonder how she ran her business with so few staff. When I asked her, she looked at me seriously.
“We must be very careful. I could expand my line of skincare and have it mass-produced and sold all over the world, but I choose very deliberately to keep the business small. There’s only me and my assistant, Tilda.”
“Wow. You do everything, just the two of you?”
“Yes. When it’s very busy, we hire extra help, but only to box and ship things. I keep my secrets guarded closely, and so should you.”
I felt that shiver again. What secrets did I have in my business? Okay, the vampire knitting club was extremely hush-hush, but the shop itself was nothing special. However, she’d hinted that her cream had magical properties, and I didn’t think that was just advertising hype.
“Is your assistant a witch too?” I was pretty sure she wasn’t, but I couldn’t always tell.
She shook her head. “No. Tilda can follow my recipes exactly though.” Her eyes glittered as she looked at me. Then she turned her head as though to make sure