Page 42 of Witches of Dubious Origin
“Honestly, because I believe you are a necromancer, and that is a skill that none of us have,” Miles said. “Frankly, we need you, Zoe.”
It took me a moment to process his words. I was about to say something encouraging, I hoped, when there was a knock on the door. Tariq poked his head in and said, “My turn.”
I put my half-finished coffee on the table and rose to my feet.
“Let me end today with this, Zoe. Be careful. Tomorrow, we’ll discuss the magical laws of the world and the one that is most imperative—the law of balance. Always remember, every magical action has a consequence.”
Potions with Tariq was a welcome changeup. Tariq talked about being born into a family of witches and mages in Nigeria. The culture of his homeland both revered and feared anyone considered to be magical, much like the rest of the world, and so his family also kept their gifts close.
“What potion shall we brew today?” Tariq asked.
“Can you make chocolate in that?” I pointed to the silvercauldron he had on a stand above a Bunsen burner—definitely a different aesthetic than a potbellied woodstove or an open fireplace.
Tariq cupped his chin with one hand as he considered and then a grin spread over his face. The next hour was spent measuring, grinding bits of this and that with a mortar and pestle—you’d think there’d be a magical food processor, but no—and then stirring and stirring and stirring some more. Seriously, no KitchenAid mixer either.
By the time my session with Tariq was winding down, I doubted we had accomplished anything. It was then that he magicked some brussels sprout, probably from the greenhouse on the roof. To my mind, there was no worse vegetable in the history of vegetables, so my enthusiasm was nonexistent when he told me to dip one into our steaming cauldron.
I held the base between my fingers and dipped the bitter ball of yuck into the potion. When I pulled it out, it looked exactly the same. I’d rather been expecting it to transform into a chocolate truffle, but no. Clearly, I had failed.
“Oh, man, I swear I did everything you said.” My voice came out in a whine that annoyed even me.
“Taste it.” Tariq gestured to the sprout. I frowned and he said, “Trust the process.”
I resisted the urge to hold my nose as I lifted the sprout to my lips. I opened my mouth reluctantly, as if he’d asked me to eat a cockroach. I expected to chomp through the hard, bitter little leaves, but instead, it was like biting into a luscious, creamy bonbon of dark chocolate filled with mousse.
I covered my mouth with my free hand while the chocolate melted in my mouth. “Are you kidding me?”
“That’s how my gran got me to eat my vegetables.” His eyes twinkled and his laugh was pure joy.
“What am I missing?” Jasper asked as he entered the room.
“Tariq is being an alchemist and turning vegetables into something better than gold.” I finished my first sprout and reached for another.
“Have you made your chocolate masking potion again?” Jasper asked.
“It is my specialty,” Tariq said.
Jasper turned to me. “He makes it every year for the Christmas party. It’s essentially the best fondue ever.”
“I’ll say.” I held out a sprout to him. Jasper didn’t hesitate and immediately dipped his sprout in the potion and popped it into his mouth. The three of us decimated the small pile of sprouts in no time.
I sighed when they were all gone, thinking I could have easily eaten another half dozen. Then I had a terrible thought. “Miles said that he was going to talk to me tomorrow about the laws of magic. He said there is a law of balance and that every magical act has a consequence. What would be the consequence here?”
Tariq gestured to the empty bowl where the sprouts had been. “That you will eat too much and get really sick.”
That made sense. I nodded and said, “Totally worth it.”
We left Tariq to his work, and Jasper and I grabbed our coats and trudged up the stairs to the rooftop. Because he was a field operative, he didn’t have an official office in the BODO, so he’d decided the roof was the safest place for me to practice energy manipulation.
When we arrived at the top of the narrow steps, I waspleased I wasn’t gasping for breath as per usual. The late-autumn wind was bitterly cold and whipping across the roof. To my relief, Jasper gestured to the greenhouse. “Let’s practice in there.”
We scurried across the roof, closing the glass door behind us. Jasper shrugged out of his coat and draped it over a wooden bench beside the entrance. I did the same with mine.
“Let’s practice some deep breathing,” Jasper said. “You want to quiet your mind as much as possible before we begin.”
Meditation. I was not a fan. I found it difficult to be still and even more challenging to keep my brain from shouting out random thoughts likeIt’s hot in here. I’m going to start sweating. Is he sweating? No, he’s just hot. Stop it, Ziakas! Unprofessional.And so on. It seemed the harder I tried to clear my mind, the louder it shouted.
“Come on now, Zoe,” Jasper said. “The same thing we did yesterday. Close your eyes and breathe in for eight, hold for four, and out for eight.”
