“Comforting,” I muttered.
I dug out measuring spoons from a drawer, found the right jars, and measured carefully.Bay leaves.St.John’s wort.Vervain.My hands moved on autopilot, but my brain hummed with every choice.This wasn’t an aromatherapy experiment.This was the difference between “demon barges in” and “demon stays on its side of the fence.”
I tipped the herbs and flowers into the mortar and lifted the pestle, rolling it through the ingredients.Stems snapped.Petals crumbled.The air filled with a heady, electric scent—sharp, clean, faintly citrusy under the floral.
I inhaled and, for a second, felt something loosen in my chest.“Okay.Pulverized garden achieved.Now what?”
“Now you need six drops of lime oil, two drops of patchouli, and twelve drops of yarrow.”Tani’s wings buzzed as she hovered lower, nose pressing close to the page.“Add to the dry ingredients and mix.Then pour into a vial.”
I put three small bottles on the table, hands steady despite the late hour.I counted each drop into the mortar like it was holy water.One.Two.Three.Four.Five.Six.A bright, sharp citrus note cut through the earthier smells.Patchouli next—deep and grounding—then yarrow, grassy and strange.
I stirred slowly with the pestle, watching oil slick through the powdered herbs until everything darkened and clumped together.The mixture looked like something between mud and moss and smelled… weirdly comforting.Like a garden at midnight.
I grabbed a clean glass vial, wedged a tiny funnel into its mouth, and coaxed the mixture inside.When it was full, I pressed a cork into place and held the little bottle up to the bare bulb overhead.
My first real potion.
“Okay,” I breathed.“Moment of truth.Now I pour this on the tree and chant, right?”
Tani kept reading.“When finished, pour the mixture at the base of the hickory tree.Take three deep breaths and say—ugh, Alice, you cheeseball—‘Protect and save us from harm.Let these oils now work their charm.’”
I snorted.“That sounds like something out of a children’s book.”
“Yeah, well, children’s books usually get the magic right,” Tani said.“Don’t knock the rhyme, doll.The gate listens.”
I studied the vial again, trying to imagine that giant sacred tree, the invisible lines of power Dougal and Owen kept talking about, the way Hickory Hollow sat in the middle of some supernatural superhighway.A Crossroads.A place where worlds brushed too close.
“Still,” I said.“That wasn’t so hard.”
Tani’s brows knit.“Hold up.Not so fast, sister.”She bent lower over the page, lips moving as she reread a section.“Uh.Whoops.”
My stomach dropped.“Whoops?What do you mean whoops?There can be no whoops in demon-prevention magic.”
“Relax.You’re not about to blow up Texas.”Tani winced.“We made the wrong potion.”
I stared at her.“The wrong—what does that even mean?Wrong how?Like, now it summons raccoons instead of demons?”
“It’s a house protection blend.”Tani tapped the page.“Still useful.But not the one that keeps the gate from turning into a revolving door for nightmares.”
I clamped my lips together, counted to five, and pinched the bridge of my nose.“Okay.Fine.We’ll call this… Practice Potion.”
“Love that for you,” Tani said.“We’ll label it later.Next one is the real gate-warding mix.”
I exhaled slowly.“All right.One more round.Then I’m turning into a pumpkin.”
Tani flicked to the next page.“Okay then.Round two…”
I woke to the shrill buzz of my phone screaming directly into my ear.
I fumbled for it, knocking something off the nightstand—maybe a hair tie, maybe my dignity—before finally managing to press it to my head.“Hello?”My voice came out rough, like I’d swallowed sandpaper and regret.
“Good morning,” Owen said, sounding disgustingly chipper.“Or maybe I should say afternoon.”
I squinted at the digital clock beside my bed.1:07 p.m.
“Oh no,” I groaned.Everything hurt.My head.My shoulders.My thighs from charging up and down stairs all night.“What time is it?Please tell me your watch is wrong.”
“Sadly, my watch tells only the brutal truth.Thought you might need a ride to the shop, since you left your car there.”
