Page 27 of Adepts and Alchemists
“Sublimation?” Poppy echoed faintly, shaking her head like this was all a confusing dream and she was soon going to wake up. The poor gypsy looked like she’d been clubbed over the head.
“In physics, it’s the conversion from something solid to its gaseous form without stopping to be a liquid, like dry ice,” Maverick drawled from his position against one wall. The warlock hadn’t deigned to join the rest of us at the table, keeping a wary eye on all possible entry and exit points. I could havetold him not to bother. I’d been scoping the place out from the moment we stepped through the mirror.
Angelo was right, I realized with a grimace. I was a coward. A rabbit looking to run, instead of a bobcat poised to pounce. This was what Murrain had reduced me to. He’d torn down a once proud witch and reduced me to... this.
I sat up straighter, hands curling into fists on the tabletop. No more. Murrain didn’t get to take any more of my time or attention than necessary. He was a threat, that much was true. But he wasn’t a demigod. He wasn’t invulnerable. If there was a way to kill him, I’d find it. I forced myself to face forward instead of eyeing the door.
“It’s more difficult to change a normal base ingredient into a potion with only one’s own magic,” GG continued with a nod. “You used something caustic for the spell with the creature at the gas station,” she said and I hadn’t even realized that Poppy had told her about what had happened at the gas station. “Your magic is charged with so much fear and rage. What did you use?”
“Bleach,” Poppy said quietly. “I grabbed a bleach bottle from the gas station. I just wanted to toss it into the thing’s eyes, but when it made a beeline for Finn I...”
GG’s eyes brightened with understanding. “Ah, I see. Fear shocked your system online. There’s nothing quite like terror for our children to get us motivated.”
“I don’t understand,” Poppy said. “I’ve never heard of alchemists. How could I be one?”
“You haven’t heard of them because they’re vanishingly rare,” I said. “I thought I’d met the only one on the west coast when I ran in Murrain’s circles. I got a potion-infused blade. It transfigured on contact with what I was fighting, depending on what would hurt the species the most.”
GG sniffed. “Barbarism used to be reserved for times of war. I don’t condone that kind of use for our powers. We’re supposed to create and reshape, not destroy.”
“Not everyone has the privilege to think that way. Vampires weren’t knocking down your doors or tearing out the throats of your coven members,” I shot back. “I lost that alchemist friend during a blood war. Don’t forget that conflict touches all of us, not just the intended targets.”
The reactions to the outburst were mixed. Wanda and Imani scowled down the table at me, affronted I would insult our host, no matter how condescending she was being. Olga shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Betanya’s eyes were shiny with an emotion I couldn’t name, and she wouldn’t look at any of us. Maverick just snorted out a breath and continued to glower at the wall, as though expecting someone to come bursting through it at any moment.
Discomfort pressed like a firm weight over the room. I wasn’t supposed to have said the quiet part aloud. That we’d been hunted and killed, and sometimes civility just didn’t work. Sometimes to deal with violent people, you had to become violent right back. The average vampire feared our power and would extinguish it by any means necessary. Usually, they did it by killing us, but there were worse things. Capture. Blooding. Being turned.
“Be that as it may,” GG said in a tone of strained patience. “It doesn’t change the fact that our magic isn’t meant to be used that way. We’re meant to help people, not use our abilities for destruction.”
My palms impacted the table with a loud crack, making everyone jump. I leaned as far across it as I could, meeting the infuriating alchemist’s eyes for a dangerous second. She had the grace to look away.
“Then what do you suggest, oh wise sage? How do we use your miraculous alchemy to save Lydia? Assuming that Murrain had Andrea throw her up and she’s even able to be saved at all? She’s a disembodied spirit now, just like I should have been. Alchemy can’t give her a body.”
“But I could,” Maverick said quietly.
The words fell into the silence like a dropped stone. I kept waiting to hear the ker-plunk of the rock hitting home, and our hopes sinking down into the blackness. Instead, heads turned toward him, a few eyes brightening.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I could do it,” he repeated, straightening his posture when he caught himself trying to curl forward defensively in front of so many witches. “I’m a Blood Warlock. Wanda used to be a Blood Witch, and she dragged Darla back through the veil. We managed to unconsciously do something similar together with Sybil. There’s no reason we couldn’t whip up a spell to produce similar results for Lydia.”
“It’s a bad idea,” Imani supplied immediately, shaking her head. “Haven’t you been experimenting with death magic enough already? You shouldn’t push the bounds of this situation you’ve found yourself in. We may not always get along, Mav, but I don’t want to see a member of my coven lost to that kind of evil either.”
The pair exchanged a loaded glance before Maverick looked away. I sensed a story there, but I didn’t pry. It wasn’t my business, and it didn’t pertain to the matter at hand. The rest could wait until I could be certain this place was impregnable and we got Lydia back.
“What else do you suggest?” he asked tightly. “We’re running low on time and resources. This Murrain douchebag has gotten us on the back foot. If we want to rescue Lydia, we’re going tohave to get creative. We have to use powers they haven’t seen before.”
“You do realize that you’re painting a target on your back if they figure out how you did it, moron,” Wanda pointed out. “I was fairly publicly a Blood Witch and, without my mother’s protection at the time, I would have had a price on my head. Very few people know about you. Once they do, it won’t just be these people coming after you. It’ll be regular witches too. You know how covens feel about warlocks. And a Blood Warlock—that’s infinitely worse.”
“I’ll handle it,” Maverick said with a shrug. “I always have and I probably always will.” He took a breath. “Indigo is an outcast witch, just like the rest of us. I don’t like what she did. I don’t like what she stands for. But she’s willing to help get a member of the Hollow back.”
“Regardless, we couldn’t even think of doing a spell to bring Lydia back to life with someone,” Wanda started as she threw me a glance. “Who isn’t even in the coven.”
Maverick shrugged. “So, we do the ritual to include her in Scapegrace, and then start work on the spell to reanimate Lydia? We don’t have much longer.”
A pang went through my chest. The warlock wasn’t looking my way, and I was grateful. I didn’t want to get caught giving him wide, grateful eyes for even a second. But I couldn’t deny the relief that washed over me when Wanda’s expression was thoughtful, not outraged. And that reaction stunned the crap out of me.
“How long does Lydia have?” Wanda asked as she turned to face me.
“A week or two maybe, if she’s still being digested,” I answered. “Longer if she’s in a container, but it’s not a picnic to survive as a ghost in an object. I don’t want to condemn her tothat fate. I won’t beg to be in your coven. I will just ask that you don’t punish her for my mistakes.”