A Mischievous Tale of Magical Mayhem

3 | The Tittsup Teacup

Situated across the road from a statue of a one-armed, one-eyed, one-legged warrior who, despite his injuries, seemed unwilling to give up the fight, the Tittsup Teacup could have been easy to miss. With a milliner's shop on one side and a clockmaker on the other, the Teacup stood out with a bright red door and a garish sign, on which a pair of suggestively shaped cupcakes topped with red cherries nestled on either side of a steaming cup of tea.

The interior was dark and cozy and smelled of toasted leaves and fragrant herbs. Several small, round tables ringed by spindly chairs occupied the floor, a hearth burned merrily no matter what the weather, and a long narrow shop's counter bore several pairs of scales and an ancient till. Narrow shelves packed with glass jars lined the entire back wall, and a doorway hung with a velvet curtain obscured the view of the interior rooms—in which, it was rumored, tea wasn't the only sort of service one might procure.

The shop's single small window displayed an assortment of baked goods, including many sweets infused with special herbs and small confections promising various results, ranging from aphrodisiacs to mental relaxants and sleeping aids. A string of bells hung from the door, which jingled merrily at the slightest movement, and candles burned brightly on every spare surface.

On a typical day, the shop saw a healthy stream of visitors, but seldom more than one or two at a time. Some popped in for an invigorating brew, or a quiet moment with a calming cup of chamomile, but some came for more secretive and private reasons, whispering their requests across the counter to the shop's proprietor, who listened with a sympathetic and nonjudgmental ear, and packed up pleasure enhancing nut nuggets and pain reducing potions alike with the same pharmaceutical efficiency.

The bells overhead chimed when Tallon opened the door to the shop and stepped inside. His lips parted as he slowly took everything in, from left to right in a panoramic study of the bizarre space. He'd been expecting a brothel for some reason, having immediately forgotten about tea being mentioned while his perverted brain had hung itself up on the first part of the shop's name.

Was this a cafe, or a dispensary? Both, disguised as something more sinister?

Only one patron sat at a table, who turned way too quickly to her drink when his gaze passed her form. No one else occupied the large, brightly lit space.

Clamping his mouth shut before he could curl his lip, Tallon strode to the till and bounced his palm on a countertop bell. The high-pitched ping reverberated off the brick walls and carried into the cordoned hallway.

A set of heeled footsteps clacked against hardwood planks, and the heavy curtain swung back to reveal what could only be the shop's owner, standing tall in all her busty glory, wearing a sensual smile and arching a delicately plucked eyebrow over a glass eye.

Despite the deformation, Tallon swelled inside his silk trousers, thankful he'd dressed in loose clothing. The woman was stunning, and she carried herself like she knew it.

Against all good sense, a doofy grin curved his mouth, and he took a step forward, bowing politely in introduction. "Lady Raebel?"

The woman's good eye gave Tallon a quick once over while the glass marble stayed fixed in place. Oddly, her real eye was dark brown—an unlikely match for her silken blond locks—while the fake one was a light, icy blue. Her glossy lips parted in a smile, showing what could very well be the best set of teeth in town, and she made a noise in her throat resembling a purr.

She leaned forward and propped her elbows on the counter, resting her chin on her dainty hands and giving Tallon a good view of her breasts, which her low cut top struggled valiantly to contain.

"Well, hello gorgeous," she said. "Haven't seen the likes of you in these parts lately. Or ever, now that I think about it. Are you lost?"

Stars above, why did potential danger and trouble always follow the flirts? This one was trouble with a capital T; Tallon could feel it in his bones—including the one in a very unspeakable place.