Author’s note: In the previous story, the Wozard’s client had no name to protect the not so innocent; this week, she shall be known as Jane Doe. The Wizard’s name won’t be revealed to protect the innocent. Neither shall Jane Doe’s husband.
“Is it done?” Ms. Doe asked greedily.
The Wizard walked over to the table and picked up small glass; the clear liquid sloshed around inside. “Yep!” he said with surprising cheer. “Now, hand me the money.”
Jane glowered. “What? I paid you yesterday.”
The Wizard chuckled. “Oh, no. That was bribery. Now hand me the money.” He extended his gnarled hand.
Ms. Doe looked at him skeptically. “What happened to your eyebrows? And beard?” she barked, stalling for time.
The Wizard’s hands touched his eyebrows and beard before remembering; he’d nearly singed off his brows while working on the potion, and his salt and pepper beard was still smoldering. “Ah, this? Nothing. Now, the money?” he asked, refusing to be stalled.
Ms. Doe angrily forked over the cash. “Nice doing business with you!” The Wizard said while winking.
Ms. Doe merely grabbed the potion and stomped out. Once she did, The Wizard giggled, and then he began to roar with laughter, so much laughter that he cried. “Ohh me, she’ll be getting a surprise!” he howled. But he sobered quickly. “I must be on my way,” he whispered, and began to pack.
Two hours later, Ms. Doe was cooking what she believed to be her husband’s last dinner. In her rather strange mind, she believed that even though her husband was not jailed, he still deserved a final meal; a perfect meal, to be precise.
She put the heavenly smelling beef burgundy on the plates, along with caramelized onions and garlicky green beans. “Mm, that smells delicious, honey,” her husband said, giving her a hug from behind. This used to bring butterflies to her stomach, but now she just wanted to scrub her skin off.
“Thank you, sweetie,” she said, giving him a forced smile. She had become rather practiced in the art of fake smiles by this point.
He smiled and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “No thanks necessary, honey,” he said before walking off to do some more work.
Ms. Doe poured two glasses of burgundy, and making sure her husband wasn’t looking, took the vile of potion out of her pocket. She was beginning to have second thoughts. I have no proof that he was unfaithful. But he flirts so damn much, and he’s so handsome… How could any woman, no, anyone, resist him? He clearly had to have cheated, at least once. She poured the vile into the glass and walked into the dining room and put it on his side of the table before going back to the kitchen and bringing out the food. “Dinner’s ready!” she hollered, and soon enough she heard him stomping up the stairs.
“Oh, wow. This looks even better than it smells. You outdid yourself,” he said.
Jane realized that could be taken badly, but brushed it off. “Thank you,” she responded. They began to dig in, and soon, too soon, they’d finished the food, and her husband was nearly done with his glass. He’d be gone quickly.
Yet, an hour passed after they’d finished supper, and he hadn’t begun to tire. Hadn’t the Wizard said he’d be dead within two hours? After two hours had passed, Jane did notice a change within her husband, but not one she liked; his eyes had brightened, and his slouch was beginning to fade. In short, he looked healthier. “How’re you feeling?” she asked gently.
He grinned at her, and she forced herself not to wince. “I’m feeling great! What’d you do to that food, Jane? I feel better than I have in years!” Cold swept into Jane’s stomach.
“You what?” she asked, attempting to not sound too stunned. “You feel better?”
He nodded happily. “Yes, yes, I do.”
Around 10:00, he’d gone to bed, while Jane feigned paperwork. Clearly that damn wizard backstabbed me. But I can make my husband’s death look like a suicide.
She slowly rose from her desk, and creeped down to the kitchen. She took one of the smaller knives from the sideboard, and she walked back upstairs.
Her husband had had more wine after dinner, and he was totally asleep. She took one of his arms, and placed the blade to his wrist. She momentarily felt nauseous; this was the main suicide that made her nearly vomit. She took a breath and closes her eyes, and slashed it across his wrist.
She expected blood. But there was none. Her eyes snapped open and she examined his arm. Nothing! Not one mark!
She resisted dropping the knife, and backed far, far, away. What was in that potion? What was it?
She raked her hands through her hair, but then realized; the WIzard, he would know. She let loose a wheezy gasp, and sprinted towards her car.
She made it, but the lights were out in the WIzard’s home. This didn’t deter her from rapidly knocking on the door. “Wizard!” she howled. “Answer me!” That was when she noticed an envelope nailed on to the door. Jane Doe was written on it in cursive black ink. She tore it off the door, and with trembling hands, ripped open the envelope.
Dear Jane, the letter began. By now you will have noticed that your husband isn’t dead. You will be wondering why that it is. You see, wizards and witches cannot make potions that contradict with their personalities. I am a healing wizard, so it is against my personality to create a potion that would take away life.
I visited my sister. You will have remembered that I tried to divine whether your husband was cheating. I’m not a seer, but my sister is, and she’s quite good. She saw that while your husband does joke-flirt, he’s never serious. He is utterly faithful to you, for reasons I cannot explain. He loves you, Jane. Please, learn to do the same again. Now that you know the truth, be his wife.
Oh, and if for some reason you try to kill your husband again, it won’t work. That potion I made? It’s an immunity potion. It doesn’t make him immortal; he will die from sickness or some other natural way. But he cannot be murdered. If he is shot, he won’t die. Even if it’s not you who attempts the killing, he won’t die. I suggest you tell him about the potion, but not yet. I made it this way, because it make sure that any more attempts on his life from you will end in failure.
I wish you luck on your life.
The Wizard.
From a thousand miles away, the Wizard and his sister, Kym, watched Jane excitedly from Kym’s crystal ball. First Jane dropped the letter. Then she screamed and raked her hair while sobbing. Slowly, she rose, grabbed the letter, and went into her car.
“D’you think she’s gonna try again?” Kym asked excitedly. She was addicted to drama.
The Wizard shrugged. “I dunno. We’ll have to see.”
Kym got up and walked away. The Wizard continued to stroke his beard. “We’ll wait and see…” he murmured.
meltingpotsandothercalamities 