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Morgana shrugged. “Whatever you say, Fearless Leader.”
We could both hear the lie in her tone. Morgana wasn’t finished with me. Not by a long shot. I couldn’t decide if that should excite or scare me.
“I just want to help,” I said to Rook quietly. “We can go back to ignoring each other when this is over, but I think Morgana is right. You need me.”
“I don’t need anyone,” Rook spat the words, the anger in his tone only increasing when he laid his gaze on me. “I could have done this without help.”
“And it would have taken you a million years,” Oleander pointed out. “And while you may have that time to waste, my cousin doesn’t. The longer we argue about this, the more likely it is that she’ll die out there. So, pull your head out of your ass and trust someone for once. Astrid isn’t so bad.”
“A glowing recommendation,” I said dryly. “I really feel the love.”
Rook stared us all down for a moment more before turning on one heel, stalking forward with stiff, jerky movements, hands balled into fists at his side.
“Come on,” he called over his shoulder. “Get off your asses and follow me. We have work to do.”
***
“Hexes and hoarfrost,” I breathed, staring at the hallway beyond. The air was charged with potential violence, like lightning poised to zap whatever poor fool wandered in. “There are so many of them.”
I could only see a few rows in, but what I could make out was frightening in its complexity. Every stone was etched with its own ward. I couldn’t puzzle out what even half of them did, let alone how to deactivate them. I wasn’t sure what I could do to help Morgana. More than likely, I’d trip one by accident and bring the headmistress and a couple of her loyalists running.
“Auntie is the queen of overkill,” Morgana agreed. “Start anointing yourself while I work out how to undo them.”
“Okay, and then what do I do?”
“I’ll need you to bolster my magic,” she answered as she stood facing the wards, one hand on her cocked hip, the other tapping her mouth as her brow furrowed in thought. “I think I can unravel the wards, but my own power won’t be enough to tackle them all. That’s why I need you.”
She looked back at me, eyebrows drawn as I took in a deep breath. “Um…” I started. “I don’t mean to be a buzzkill or anything,” I started, but she interrupted with an impatient sigh.
“I don’t expect a total novice to go up against Aurea and win. Just feed me what you can, and I’ll handle the rest.”
My breath came out in a relieved gust. Being a magical battery was an easier job than plucking at the threads of a centuries-old High Witch. With my luck, I’d bungle the first ward I came across and botch the whole operation. If the headmistress even guessed what we were up to, I’d be kicked through the nearest mirror and barred from ever returning.
I pulled a chain of crystals and draped them over my neck. Their points tickled my skin as they settled against my throat. I’d tied them together, forming a necklace of sorts. It beat tucking them all into my bra or something. Poppy’s magic buzzed over my skin, as bubbly and warm as the gypsy it had come from. It was like getting a squeeze from the woman herself, and I couldn’t help a smile. The oils went on next. Dragon Shield Oil for protection against physical, mental, and emotional attacks. Durga Oil for protection against all harm. Good Luck Oil for luck in psychic endeavors. Energy Oil to increase endurance.
By the time I was finished, I was a mélange of conflicting scents. It was so reminiscent of Poppy’s shop that it made my chest ache. At a time like this, I missed home, and I suddenly wished Wanda was here. She’d be more help to Morgana than I could ever hope to be. Then again, if Wanda was here, she’d probably be ordering me back to my room and away from danger. So maybe it was better she was completely in the dark about my current predicament.
“That’s potent stuff,” Morgana noted when I pressed my hand between her shoulder blades. “Did you make them?”
“Some of them,” I said. “Though Poppy brewed most of my stock. She’s a member of Scapegrace… my coven.”
I left out the fact that Poppy was only an honorary witch and that she was a gypsy, mortal and much younger than any of them. Poppy had gotten a boost from the ritual that had bound us together into a coven, so she was more magically capable now, but she was still mostly human. Mentioning that though would only muddy the waters and cast the efficacy of the potions into doubt. With the weight of Oleander’s nerves and Rook’s scorn on my back, I didn’t dare rock the boat.
“Alright,” Morgana said, eyes sliding closed. She cupped her hands in the air over the first brick. “Let’s do this.”
The air was still as she worked, unraveling the first row of wards with painstaking care. Then came the next, and the next, until we were enveloped by darkness. Morgana didn’t begin to siphon my magic until she’d reached the sixth. Even then, it was barely a trickle. But as time wore on and we inched closer to our destination, she leaned more heavily against me, scooping my magic in her metaphorical hands before throwing it into the complex spells she was working. I had to fight the impulse to slap her away from my magic every time it happened. It felt wrong to have someone’s hands inside my essence, manipulating the fundamental force that made me a witch. My nose was scrunched, constantly in danger of a loud and distracting sneeze. It was the tradeoff for casting the way I did, though the dust in this place wasn’t helping.
“Are you... wiggling your nose?” Rook asked.
“Yes,” I said, wincing as Morgana put her psychic mitts on me again.
“Like Samantha from Bewitched?” he asked incredulously.
“So what?”
“So… isn’t that a bit on the... ah... nose?” he chuckled.
“You don’t see me criticizing you, jerk,” I muttered. “This is how I cast. Get over it.”
