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I nod, frowning as I add, “Yeah, sure, assuming we’re not all dead or still in lockdown hiding from bad vampires. What are you two up to?”
Annie lifts her hands in a placating motion. “First, I want to assure you that this is completely safe.”
“We’re ninety percent sure it is, anyway,” Blaire says. “I mean, the author warns that it’s dangerous for a witch without verified potion powers to attempt any of the infusions in the book, but you saw through a woman’s skin earlier today.”
“That’s an advanced diagnostic infusion from Chapter Five,” Annie pipes up. “And you did it without even knowing you were doing it! Imagine how effective you’ll be with a little guidance and a recipe.”
“And the potion recipes read just like mixing a cocktail,” Blaire adds, lifting a slim black volume from the counter and holding it up between us. She points to a spooky looking martini glass on the front with green vapor rising from the surface of the drink within. “You can even serve them in traditional glasses.”
“Especially if you want to trick people into drinking them without knowing they’re magic,” Annie says. “Which isn’t entirely ethical, but okay if you’re doing a healing spell or something for the greater good. I mean, if your heart’s in the right place and you’re worried about someone, better to ask forgiveness than permission, right? So many people are weird about magic. They’ll tell you ‘no, no, no magic,’ right up until they’re at death’s door and then expect you to pull a miracle out of your ass.” She motions to Blaire. “Like with Trevor last week. He’d had that hex on his paw for decades but nearly let it fall off before he let you banish the enchantment.”
“To be fair, I’m a new witch and I’m sure that’s a little scary,” Blaire says. “But if you’re about to lose a paw and there’s only one person around powerful enough to kick a black hex to the curb, it wouldn’t be a hard decision for me to make.”
“Me, either,” Annie says, her eyes sparkling as she adds, “But soon we might have another powerful witch in town capable of banishing black magic with a tasty beverage and a little witchy tender loving care.”
“That’s part of most of the spells,” Blaire says, extending the book toward me. “You have to want the best for the person, or the potion won’t be strong enough to work.”
I take the book, fingertips humming with electricity as I gingerly crack it open.
Annie appears at my side, flipping a few more pages until she reaches a relatively simple looking recipe with an illustration of a tumbler filled with ice and brown liquid at the top of the page. “Like this one that you did for Herbish. You have to be sincerely seeking the truth as you pour. That’s what gives the potion most of its power.”
Blaire tucks herself against my other side, pointing at the recipe. “It says to use whiskey and a mixer, for ease of infusion, but that it’s possible to work this spell with any liquid. Even orange juice or soda or something.”
“It’s one of the few spells that’s safe to use on children,” Annie adds, beaming up at me. “Which is amazing news. We’ll never have to worry if one of the kids have a health scare. You’ll be able to figure out what’s wrong with them right away.”
Eyes going wide, I shake my head. “I’m not going to drug the kids, Annie. No fucking way.”
“You wouldn’t be drugging them, silly,” she says. “You’d be magicking them, but good magic. And we wouldn’t have you make anything for the kids until you feel one hundred percent comfortable with your powers, obviously. No sense in taking unnecessary risks.”
“Except the risk that I don’t have potion powers and end up hurting myself or someone else,” I say, even as I flip through the book, glancing at the various recipes. “I should wait until Celeste is back in town and can verify that I’m safe to practice this kind of magic.”
“You could, but you’ll be waiting a while,” Blaire says as she steps away from my side. She grabs a can of ginger ale from an array of ingredients lined up on the counter, popping the top as she adds, “She’s going to be in Salem for the foreseeable future. Her daughter is having a baby and her old coven there just lost their second-in-command. They need a thirteenth member to work most of their spells, and Celeste has been homesick for Massachusetts for decades.”
“We could go down there to see her,” Annie says, “but with the Shadowbane threat and the holidays coming up it probably won’t be easy to travel until spring.”
“And spring will be too late,” Blaire says, taking a gulp of her drink. “If we can’t get the truth out of Sultan soon, we’re going to have to turn him over to the high council, and we won’t be any closer to figuring out why he tried to kidnap you than we were before.”
I look sharply up from the book. “But we’re pretty sure he wasn’t trying to kidnap me. That’s why we were going to the bar to look for clues, remember? Because he seemed surprised that I was even there. He was at the Pug and Crone for something, but I don’t think it was me.”
“Or so we assume,” Blaire says with an exaggerated shrug. “Wouldn’t it be nice to know for sure? To know you and Amy are safe from another attack because he was actually there for a handful of cocktail onions and an evil meeting with his co-conspirators or whatever a more powerful truth potion might reveal?”
I narrow my eyes at my sister’s scheming little face. “Now, you’re playing dirty.”
“I’m not playing,” she says, soberly. “I’m scared, Case. If I can’t get Sultan to talk, I might not be able to keep our family safe. We need to know what he was up to and how far along the Shadowbanes are with their plans. Knowledge is always power but in this case it’s also our only hope. I searched the bar while you were talking to Edmond. I didn’t find anything, and the rat didn’t know anything, either. She saw the portal open and alerted Edmond because they’d chatted before. That was it. We’re out of leads.”
“But there’s another truth spell on page twenty-three,” Annie says softly. “One that draws out the truth of the mind, not the body. A secret spilling spell.”
I curse and tug at a lock of my hair, the way I used to do when I had trouble making decisions as a kid. But the hint of pain at my scalp doesn’t calm me the way it usually would, it only reminds me that Edmond is hard at work making protection amulets for me and my sisters from locks of a mummy’s hair.
Blaire and Annie are right. We’re in danger and the threats keep mounting with every passing day. If we don’t make progress with our defenses, it’s only a matter of time before we’re outmaneuvered.
“Okay, fine,” I say, pointing a warning finger at Blaire’s face before she can respond. “But only because Sultan is garbage, and I don’t care if I hurt him a little. But if I end up killing him, I’m going to be pissed. I don’t want Amy to have a murderer for a mother. She deserves better than that.”
“It wouldn’t be murder,” Annie says as she pats my back. “It would be manslaughter.”
“Right,” Blaire adds. “Because you’re not intending to kill him. If you do, it’ll be an accident.”
I shake my head slowly side to side. “Who are you two? And what have you done with my sweet, innocent, puts-spiders-outside-instead-of-squishing-them sisters?”
