“Why?”
“Blood is bonded to you. You can use it to make a potion that only you can use, like we are today. Alternately, you can use it to store a little of your power. And that means you can also use it maliciously to cast a spell on someone whose blood you have, though that’s very difficult.”
My stomach churned. Someone with my blood could cast a spell on me. Thank God I hadn’t given any of it to Jaxson.
My uncle patiently waited, neither rushing nor coddling me.
Screw it. I was there for the potion and to learn. I pulled off my heavy glove and drew the knife along my palm, wincing at the bite of the blade. Tilting my hand over the vial, I flexed my palm, careful not to spill any blood on my clothes.
“That’s enough.” My uncle patted my hand and then grabbed a red potion from the shelf. He dabbed a bit on my cut, and my skin knit back together—though it stung quite a lot.
“Wow.”
He chuckled again. “It’s magic.”
Still in wonder, I put my heavy glove back on.
He poured the blood into the flames until he had just the right amount left in the vial. “Now you know I’m not going to use your blood for any sinister hocus-pocus.” With that, he handed me the vial. “All yours.”
I grinned and tipped it into the cauldron.
A cloud of noxious gas exploded up out of the vat, and I started hacking. “Oh, Lord, I didn’t think the smell could get worse!”
“It can always get worse.” My uncle coughed. “Okay, time for the spell.”
He stood over the little black cauldron and began to chant strange words in a language I didn’t understand. Light swirled around the room, and I gasped. Suddenly, I was in whirlpool of vivid green flame, darkness, and my uncle’s words. The workshop shook, and I grabbed the counter. Then there was a tiny puff from the cauldron, and the shadows of the world went back to their normal positions.
“Holy. Crap.”
“Oh, right, I should have warned you it gets a little spooky.”
An hour later, we’d distilled the potion and cooled it. My uncle set the flask on the table. Red droplets floated in the shiny, silvery solution, and I wondered if that was actually my blood. The thought creeped me out. “Are you sure this is safe to drink?”
“Safe? Perfectly. Appetizing? Absolutely not.” My uncle dug around in the fridge marked Beer, pulled out a plastic bottle full of dark orange liquid, and shook it. “You’re going to want a chaser.”
“Great.”
“I’ve found that carrot juice works best.” He poured some in a beaker and set it on the workbench.
“Do I drink the whole thing?”
My uncle shook his head. “Not unless you want to be watching your godmother for hours at a time. Just a sip. It will last you a minute.”
“How does it work? Do I have to do anything?”
“As soon as you’ve taken a sip, close your eyes and concentrate on your godmother. You’ll see her in your mind, like a movie camera floating in air.”
I held the flask up to the light. This really didn’t feel safe.
I took the tiniest sip possible and instantly regretted all my life choices. The potion burned my tongue like acid, and my body jerked in protest. My uncle grabbed the flask before I dropped it and shoved the carrot juice into my hand.
I chugged it down and swished the last of it around in my mouth, trying to get rid of the residual taste. “Oh, my God! That tasted like electrocuted sardines! What the hell?”
“Forget the taste! Close your eyes. Think of your godmother.”
I tried, but nothing came to mind. “I don’t think it’s working.”
My uncle’s tobacco-scented magic washed over me. “Focus on her face, the way she talks.”