Page 29 of Monster's Past
Thistle flaps her wings and flies over to the window to look outside.
I clear my throat. “I’m fine.”
She moves into the gloom, and for one eerie moment, I get a sense that she’s something dark and dangerous. No doubt it’s the magic within her. A lot of what she’s saying makes it seem like she’s some kind of omen-driven being, but I’ll probably know more after she’s drunk the potion.
“Where do you want me?” she asks.
Anywhere.Everywhere.
I push the thought aside. It’s not what she’s asking. “Can you set up a cauldron?” I turn away so she can’t see the purple that’s no doubt ringing my eyes right now. She doesn’t seem to have figured out that it shows up when I’m thinking of the mate bond as well as when I do magic. Which I guess makes sense when the mate bond is so tightly tied to my magic.
I sort through the ingredients drawers, being careful not to take too much of anything that will make it too obvious we’ve been in here. I doubt Professor Wainwright will be able to figure out it’s us, but it’s always better to play it safe.
Once I’ve got everything, I head over to where the cauldron is sitting on the small flame and start prepping everything.
“Do you want me to do anything?” Anja asks.
“No, I’ve got it,” I assure her. “But I’m going to need some of your hair.”
“My hair?” She reaches up to touch it.
“Well, technically, it can be anything. Blood, a fingernail, skin. I just figured hair would hurt the least.” I start chopping the ingredients.
“Ah, right, that makes sense. How much?”
“Just a few strands should do,” I respond.
“Ah.” She tugs and pulls out some strands, setting them down on the workbench beside me. “Where did you learn potions?”
“My dad,” I respond. “He’s really good at them. Mum not so much, even though she’s great in the kitchen.”
“Mmm, I remember the shortbread.” She gets an almost dreamy expression on her face.
“I think she’s sending gingerbread next week.”
“Biscuits or cake?”
“Which would you prefer?” I push the chopped mugwort root into the cauldron, getting a hiss in response.
“You can’t ask your mum for baked treats based on what I prefer,” she responds.
“Can’t I?” It doesn’t matter much to me which Mum sends, and I know she’ll like it if I tell her what I want rather than my normal response of getting her to make whatever she feels like making. I’m not trying to be awkward towards her about it, I just really don’t mind. Anything she makes is always delicious.
“Okay, I prefer the cake version.”
“I’ll let her know,” I respond.
“And how are you going to do that?” She leans forward on the desk.
I raise an eyebrow, trying not to be too satisfied that she seems to be angling after that. “Are you asking if I’ve told my mum about you?”
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I guess so? I know we’ve been on one date, but...” she trails off and sighs. “Nope, you don’t want to hear it.”
“Don’t I get to decide that?” I stir the cauldron and sprinkle a pinch of dried lavender over the top of the potion.
She takes a deep breath, and for a moment, I don’t think she’s going to tell me what’s on her mind. “It’s just that sometimes when we’re together, I get a weird feeling. Like this is something big. Does that make sense?”
Shock travels through me and I freeze in place as I try to process exactly what she’s saying.