Page 62 of Summer L.A.W.

“Chemical luminescence again,” he murmured, fascinated.

“Magic luminescence,” she corrected. “This one targets the throat chakra.”

“The throat chakra?”

“Communication, Professor.” She winked. “You might even start saying what you really think.” As the potion reached a soft boil, Magda fanned away the rising vapor. “It’s supposed to release a truth mist. It should be mild, temporary, harmless.”

“Harmless,” he echoed dubiously, turning a dial on his equipment. “Let’s test vapor density.”

The cauldron gave a happy pop and belched out a puff of glittering pink-gold smoke. It rose like champagne bubbles, drifted lazily upward, and vanished into the overhead vent.

Sebastian frowned. “Is your ventilation system standard?”

“Mostly. The mansion has its own ideas about airflow sometimes.”

“That doesn’t sound reassuring.”

“Wasn’t meant to.”

A soft whoosh passed through the ductwork, carrying their glittering truth serum into the mansion’s lungs.

“Can you stay for dinner?” Magda asked brightly. “You can take notes on behavioral responses. Natural environment. Minimal supervision.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “All right. Observation phase. Should we tell the others what we’re up to?”

Magda tipped her head. “This may sound hypocritical, and usually I don’t do this, but let’s not tell them about the truth spell. Then they won’t be influenced by the knowledge.”

“Very wise,” he said. “You’re beginning to sound more like a scientist.”

She let out a snort.

By the time they entered the dining room, the table gleamed under floating candles, and half the witches were already seated. Joell poured cider, Lioness doodled a glowing sigil on her napkin, and Sahara scrolled through ancient hieroglyphic photos on her tablet.

“Look who finally joined us,” Joell teased. “How’s your cauldron courtship going?”

Sebastian choked on air. Magda patted his arm. “Scientific partnership,” she said sweetly. “It’s going well.”

The first wave of pink mist wafted in through the ceiling vents. A subtle sparkle drifted downward, like fairy dust. Barely perceptible.

Joell noticed first. “Is it getting sparkly in here?”

“Probably just condensation,” Sebastian said, eyes on his notepad.

“Condensation doesn’t glitter.”

“I’m recording that observation,” he muttered.

Joell suddenly slammed her cider down. “Fine! I’ll admit it. I wrote myself into my novel’s love scene. Twice. And the second time was better.”

The table went silent. Then Brianna, halfway through her mashed potatoes, asked, “Did you at least change the name?”

Joell shrugged. “Nope. But I gave myself better dialogue.”

Lioness grinned. “Bold choice. I’d write myself taller.”

Sahara sighed dreamily. “I would simply write myself into early retirement.”

Chad appeared in the doorway, clipboard in hand. “Hey, how’s the research⁠—”