Page 21

Chapter 21

Tully

I n my workroom off the side of the house, I pour a vial of moonlight-infused defense potion into my small cauldron. The contents hiss and release a stream of pale smoke. The pink and sparkling blend smells of its varied contents—sage, salt, parsley, and the magic I add with an old spell my grandwitch taught me. I add another heater below the cauldron. The diminutive oil lamp heaters were handed down to me and have lasted over six generations of witches.

“What happened?” Argos’s voice has me turning around. Propped up on his elbows on the cot in the corner, he looks dazed.

Lady Owl is perched on the half-open door to my kitchen. She eyes Argos.

“Our plan did not play out the way we wanted,” I explain.

“I assumed as much from the bump on my head and the way I feel.”

“Your fatigue isn’t from the physical attack. Yes, the thieves surprised us, but the mirror and the stones attacked us all.”

“How? Why aren’t you suffering? Is it the jewelry I made for you?”

“Yes, yes. You saved me. Thank you very much.”

“Wow. I didn’t think I’d hear that anytime soon.”

I snort and add a vial of green mist that I gathered two years ago in the northwest marshes. It helps potions sneak into bloodstreams and helps my clients’ bodies accept the magic. The cauldron gurgles loudly. That means it’s working.

“The mirror and the stones have apparently latched onto every Veil creature that was within a quarter mile when the thieves attempted to work the stones and strike out at us,” I say, my voice shaking slightly. I truly hope this day doesn’t end in a widespread tragedy.

“Who are they?”

“The thieves? Oh, an orc and a human male. Not locals. You knocked the human out with your fist if my guess is right. It was dark, so I’m not completely certain. The mirror and stones took care of the orc and also you thereafter, unfortunately. I fetched every human available in town to help me get you here and to check on and keep watch over Rustion and all the other Veil creatures the artifacts are draining.”

“They’re still draining us?”

I nod. “You might die.” He deserves to know the truth.

“Then let’s have sex.”

I laugh in full then, nearly toppling the cauldron. “You would say that.”

“What are you making over there? It smells dangerous.”

I stir the potion and steam rises, the moisture clinging to my chin and cheeks and likely making my hair frizzy.

“I’m crafting a waking potion for you and the others. It should also serve to protect you in a deeper way than my usual dome. You’re handling the draining far better than some. Rustion, I’m afraid, isn’t looking good at all. Nor is Romulus, who happened to return to town right as the mirror struck. He was headed to Rustion for a report on the storm. Laini is with him now and Kaya is caring for Rustion and his wife, Nisa. She’s a sprite.”

“Anyone else affected?” I hear the cot squeak. He’s lying down again.

“Yes, but we have a few humans helping them out as well,” I say. “It’s under control, but if this potion doesn’t work, we will have a sad day on our hands for sure.”

“So you weren’t just joking about the whole dying thing.”

“No, sadly, I was not.”

Lady Owl hoots three times.

“She thinks you should stop talking and sleep. Owls know more than you might think, so I’d listen to her advice.”

“I’ll try. It’s not as easy to shut your eyes when you worry you might not open them again.”

“Then just lie back and breathe slowly.”

I sprinkle a pinch of ground mullein into the cauldron and the concoction turns to a bright shade of lavender. I begin to sing quietly. It helps me focus on my work.

“When the fog comes down and rings the town,

it’s time to grind your mullein down,

When the moon is high and the grasses dry,

you best pick all your blue fungi.

When the wind goes cold and your bones feel old,

find the oak and scrape sooty mold.

When the branches clack and the lightning cracks,

find the ring with the gold filling.”

“What is that song?” Argos’s voice is raspy and quiet.

“My grandwitch used to sing to me. A traditional witchling song.”

“What does it mean by a gold filling?”

Poor thing really is desperate to get that money for his mother and the estate. “It’s speaking of a golden plant that grows inside some fairy mushroom rings. Very valuable stuff. Perhaps we can hunt some down to help with your estate.”

“That would be great,” Argos whispers. He’s obviously about to fall asleep again.

Even though I’m afraid for him, it’s likely better that he gets rest right now. Once I finish this potion, I’ll get him to drink a good dose of it. The stuff still needs a while to cook and blend.

I keep humming the song’s simple tune and take out my wand to cast the room with peace. Soon, Argos is snoring.

Although the situation is somewhat dire, I have to admit to myself that I like this moment in time. My workshop is filled with lovely herbal scents. The cauldron is bubbling properly. The small hearth crackles with fire. Light washes through the back window and spreads a veil of gold over herbs hung to dry, shelves stacked with colorful jars of ingredients, and Lady Owl’s lovely antlers. Argos’s large form in the cot gives me a strange feeling that isn’t at all unpleasant. I like taking care of him. It’s nearly the same way I felt caring for Laini when she was having trouble, but somehow, it’s different.

I go to the cot and sit on the edge. Careful not to wake the minotaur, I smooth his hair away from his damp forehead. All the sleepers affected by the mirror and stones are feverish like they’ve caught an ague. I don’t like it. Not one bit.

Argos’s eyelashes are a thick fringe of black on his smooth, warm skin. I touch the thin skin beneath his shuttered eyes. He’s so strong. It’s shocking that anything could take him down like this. I simultaneously want to comfort him and curl into his big arms to feel safe. It’s a lie—that idea of safety. No one can love me like that. I’m too prickly. Too cold. I’m not a good person most of the time. Argos is cocky, but he is incredibly kind and brave. He deserves someone sweet like Kaya or Laini. Not this morally gray witch.

“Tully…” His lips move as he says my name again, but he’s sleeping, dreaming.

I touch his full mouth with my fingertip like a kiss. His lips part and I want to lean in to kiss him properly, but he needs rest right now, not a lover.

I stand and begin to pace. How exactly can I negate the power of the artifacts? The potion needs more time, so I hold out my arm for Lady Owl and she accompanies me for a walk in the nearby woods.

The tree branches shuffle against one another, sounding like younglings pretending to sword fight with twigs. The sky is a dark blue and I smell snow—normal snow—on the wind.

“Lady Owl, can you give me your advice?”

She hoots once, so I detail the special room that Argos and I plotted out.

“It should work, but the building of said room will need to happen very quickly. Once it’s ready, I’ll have to be inside to work the magic, to urge the khymeia’s desire to drain toward the mirror, and then perhaps double that back so they’re draining one another. I’m not certain that’s possible. I have no real idea how to manage it. Maybe I should just focus on using the khymeia to drain the mirror. I don’t want too many things going on at once.”

Lady Owl trills. She agrees with simplifying the process.

“All right then. That’s what I’ll do. Argos will try to go into that room with me. He’s smart, but he is also determined to be in the middle of things.”

“Hooooo…”

“Yes. He really is a bit of a genius. I like him more than I want to.”

My face heats like I’m a schoolgirl from one of Laini’s tales about the human world. I shake my head and laugh at myself. Perhaps I don’t care if he deserves better. Maybe I will just take this minotaur to be my own.

If he survives the dark magic he has brought into the light…