Page 78 of Balance

“You packed an apothecary?” I marveled, wondering what else he might have hidden in there.

He paused, in the process of accepting a tin cup from Damen, and glanced at me. “Iama witch,” he said.

Yes, but no one had explained what, exactly, that meant.

“Spells…” I ventured, waving my hand in the air.

“You just witnessed one.” The sparkle returned to his eyes, and he twisted the spoon between his fingers.

“But…” I glanced at the spoon, and back to the pot. “You were stirring.”

“Yes.” He grinned. “Cooking too.”

“But…” The movies couldn’t be all wrong! He hadn’t even chanted or anything. “That’s not a cauldron!”

His grin fell, gaze flickering to the others, who had begun to snicker. “Who is going to lug around a cauldron wherever they go?” he asked, face turning pink.

“Do youhaveone?” Something had to be true.

“Yes.” Miles pursed his lips. “I have a cauldron.”

“How big is it?” Large enough to cook a roast in, maybe?

“It’s big enough.”

“Miles wishes he had a bigger cauldron,” Damen interjected, cleaning his fingernails with a pocketknife.

“Oh…” That was sad. Didn’t he have money? He should have been able to get whatever he needed. But maybe it had to be a gift. I’d heard of such superstitions. I could surprise him with one for Christmas. Come to think of it, I’d never seen a giant iron bowl around Damen’s house—and I would have remembered. Direct contact with the metal had a tendency to make me break out in hives. “Do you need a bigger one?”

“My cauldron is perfectly fine!” Miles wrapped the bottom of the mug with a cloth and pushed it into my hands. “Size really doesn’t matter when it comes to kitchen witchery. It’s all about intention.”

“Oh, we were talking about witchcraft still?” Damen intoned.

“Baise toi,” Miles hissed at Damen, not so gently shoving the onmyoji a mug of his own. The liquid sloshed over the edge, spilling over the leg of Damen’s jeans. “Sorry, my bad,” he continued, not seemingly apologetic at all. “Now eat your food.”

I sat back on my butt, crossing my legs in front of me. It wasn’t until Miles returned from giving Titus his portion and had scooped some out for himself that I spoke. “What is the ginger and basil for?” I asked, both out of curiosity and because watching Miles’s face light up when he spoke about witchy things had a way of pleasantly twisting at my insides.

“Flavor,” Miles answered, drinking his soup and refocusing his attention on me. His eyebrow had risen in question, but a second later he lowered the mug, a slight smile touching his lips once again. “And also, they have helpful properties right now.”

“Like what?” I’d studied plants—the way they grew, their meanings, and how to take care of them. But shamefully, my knowledge on how to use them medicinally was lacking.

“Basil is used to keep away bugs, and also acts a stress reliever,” Miles answered, resuming his meal as he watched me carefully over his mug. “But there are other magical uses as well.”

“What’s that?”

He paused before lowering his mug slowly. “I want to see if you can figure it out.”

The way he said this—the contemplative glint to his eyes—it was different than the way Damen acted when brushing me off.

If I asked again, he wouldn’t hesitate to answer. But, right now, he was also testing me.

It was a challenge.

“Okay.” I nodded. I would do my best. “What about ginger?”

“Ginger is used for muscle pain.” The moment had ended, and he resumed eating. “You’ve all been walking to find me, so you’re probably hurting.”

“It’d probably be good for cramps,” I mused. I’d honestly never thought of that.