Page 1 of A Drop of Anguish
1
My Only Source of Magic
Smoke streams up from the bubbling cauldron, and I watch as if hypnotized by the magic. I tap my finger on the cold stone table and wait. The instructions tell me to sprinkle crushed sage once the brew has been bubbling for fifteen seconds.
Someone else mutters the count under their breath. “Seven, eight, nine.”
I ignore it. I’ve passed fifteen by several seconds, but still, my hands remain steady.
The air stirs, drawing in more and more power. Sparking like electricity.
This is the only magic I’ll ever know. The only magic I’ll feel and wield.
This is the only thing—in the magical world—that I’m good at.
My fingers absently roll the dried sage, crackling and crumbling into my awaiting palm, but my eyes never leave the liquid. My heart expands, and I breathe in deep.
Now.
Quickly, I tip the crumbled sage into the liquid then stir methodically.
Rumbling shakes me from my intense focus, and I lift my eyes to find a cauldron trembling two tables up. A short witch standing on a wooden chair to reach the table gasps as her potion bubbles over the rim, but it’s not done there.
The teacher rushes forward and grabs the witch by the waist and carries her away just as the potion explodes, liquid splattering all the way to the ceiling and then over the table and pouring onto the floor.
Most of the students have fled the area, now standing against the walls, but I haven’t moved an inch. Liquid sloshes up to my boots. I eye it then ignore it. If I’d been closer, I would have had to move—who knows what that half-baked potion would do if it touched uncovered skin. Luckily, I was just far enough away.
I continue my gentle stir.
The teacher drops the witch off on a chair near the edge of the room and then approaches me. Her expression is mild as she examines my potion and hands me a small black stone without comment.
I drop the onyx in immediately, and it clunks all the way to the bottom of the cauldron. Now, all I have to do is wait and hope I didn’t mess it up somewhere along the line.
But the truth is, I know I didn’t. This potion is perfect.
The witch’s potion is still bubbling wildly. Smoke covers the ceiling, filling the room with an acrid odor. I retreat with the rest of the class to the edges of the room. but the teacher doesn’t seem to think that’s enough. She shoos us out the door and into the hall, where smoke leaks out and settles onto the ceiling.
A plump vampire with purple hair skooches next to me, wringing her hands together nervously.
“Did you really do it?” she whispers.
I shrug. “Needs another ten minutes to finish. I’ll know then.” It’s impolite to be too confident when everyone else has likely failed. “Did anyone else finish?”
“Only three others even earned the stone,” the vampire tells me. “And one of them was Patty. The moment her stone dropped, her potion went haywire.”
“Candice was there with us,” a lanky redheaded boy says with an eye roll. “Besides, I bet none of them are viable. That potion is way above our level. The point is for us to fail.”
Iwasthere, but I hadn’t been paying attention to what everyone else was doing. Once I’m brewing, everything else fades away. My focus is intense, and I think that may be the real reason I’m obsessed now.
Yes, I’m good at it. Yes, it’s literally the only form of magic I’m able to do. Yes, I have and will continue to use potions to defend myself against beings much stronger. But the real reason I’ve thrown myself into it so deeply is because potion-making has become my escape.
I’m tired of thinking. Tired of feeling. Tired of fear and pain and wondering.
It’s our second day back at Shadow Hills Academy after an unorthodox break—our headmaster went super villain and tried to lure students into a to-the-death competition.
Good times.
Everyone knows I was involved, which has done wonders for my reputation. Add in the fact that the three most powerful students at the school—one of whom I was “dating”—haven’t come back since those events, and well, I’m as popular as it gets. The whole school, including the administration, blames me for Jarron’s, Trevor’s, and Bea’s absence.
