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I turn back to my textbook. Could it have been the alyssum? The recipe called for a handful, but that’s such a loose measurement. Or maybe I need fresh mugwort and not the dried version.

But then, maybe it’s not the mugwort?

I rub my temples.

“You’re still here?” Sybil’s voice rings out.

I glance up as she enters the kitchen. She came in here with me a couple of hours ago to work on an assignment for a different class, but she long since left to get some reading done.

Apparently, she finished reading.

She crinkles her nose. “What is that ungodly smell?” she says, wandering closer to me.

“That’s the smell of protection,” I say smoothly.

“Whatever concoction you’re brewing, I don’t think it’s supposed to smell like that.” When she gets to my side, Sybil peers into my bowl. “Or look like that.”

I gaze down at the lumpy charred paste. According to my textbook, it’s supposed to settle into a milky green liquid.

“What are you making anyway?” Sybil asks.

I grimace. “It’s supposed to be a protective potion. Once it’s done, I just dip a piece of jewelry into it…and it should come out an amulet.”

At that, she laughs. “Dude, that’s more likely to attract bad shit than it is to scare it off.”

I make a face at her. “It’s not done yet.”

“Babe, scrap it and call it a night. You can try again tomorrow.”

I grab my wooden spoon and stir the grayish sludge. “Does my best friend really have that little faith in my abilities?”

Sybil raises her eyebrows at me. “Uh, when it comes to this particular spell—yeah, I do.”

“Pfft.” I wave her away. “I’m almost done here.”

“All right, Selene, you do you.” Sybil pushes away from the counter. “I’m heading off to bed. Want to join me for a run before class?”

I make a face at the thought. “Do I really like running?” I ask her.

For a moment Sybil hesitates, like she doesn’t know if I’ve truly forgotten.

“It’s a rhetorical question,” I say. “Of course I hate running. But I’m a masochist, so yeah, I’ll join you.”

She shakes her head. “You have the worst humor, you know that, right?”

I point the wooden spoon I’m holding at her. “I…yeah, I might.”

She gives me an amused look. “Night, babe. Don’t accidently curse anything with that…potion.” With that, she breezes back out of the kitchen.

“Night!” I call out after her.

Once it’s quiet, I return my attention to my goop.

Now, where was I?

I glance down the list of steps I’ve meticulously checked off. All that’s left is the final step.

Take the object you wish to coat with your protective mixture and submerge it into the potion.