Scholomance 9: The Devil's Academy by Logan Jacobs

Author:Logan Jacobs [Jacobs, Logan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-04-04T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

We sat around in a circle and watched with careful eyes as Penelope studied each sea-based ingredient, and time ticked along as the bright-haired witch drummed her fingers along her lips and narrowed her chestnut-brown eyes in concentration. We waited patiently until she finally reached for the shard of lavender sea-glass and raised it high above her eyes.

Without saying a word, the vivacious Wicca swiftly slashed across her palm, and she didn’t even flinch as thick beads of blood dripped from her deep, open wound. Then, with her hand tightly clutched, she glanced up at Vanessa and pursed her lips.

“I’ll need a cauldron, Professor,” she said.

“Er, of course,” Vanessa mumbled as she shook her head. “How forgetful of me.”

With one quick flick of her wand, an empty, medium-sized black cauldron appeared before Penelope, and the tangerine-haired witch smiled and rubbed her hands together so both of her palms were painted with deep red blood.

“Thank you, Professor,” she said without lifting her eyes. “Now, I believe the first ingredient to boil will be the rubal seaweed… Morgana, would you mind filling the pot for me?”

“No problem,” the bookish brunette responded in a steady voice before she pointed at the pot and cleared her throat. “Aqua fortis apparet!”

“Perfect.” Penelope smiled when the cauldron was filled to the brim with steady, clear water.

We watched in silence as Penelope carefully counted each long, slimy strand of seaweed before she tossed them into the water, and when it appeared like she was satisfied with the amount of seaweed in the cauldron, she grabbed her wand with her bloody hand and aimed it underneath the pot.

“Illuminana!” she said in a loud and confident voice.

A small fire burst beneath the black cauldron, and a foul, fish-like smell wafted through the cool air. Bubbles brewed over the water’s surface, which was slowly changing into a sickly pale-green color. Then Penelope dipped her bloody hand into the brew without a word, and I watched with wide eyes as the potion turned from green to vibrant red.

“Why did you cut your hand before you began to concoct the brew?” Circe asked with a raised blonde eyebrow. “As far as I recall, I’ve never seen that done before.”

“Every ingredient I touch needs to be tainted with my blood,” Penelope explained as she stared long and hard at the lilac shell.

The ocean shell glimmered beneath the white-wine sunshine, and its beauty and rarity radiated off its exterior before Penelope slowly picked it up and sighed.

“What’s wrong?” Vanessa asked. “Is it the wrong ingredient? Do we need to find another shell?”

“No…” Penelope muttered with a bitter groan. “It’s just such a shame. These are very unusual shells. You can only find them in realms as north as this--”

“Which is all well and fascinating,” the professor interjected impatiently, “but we must carry on, Miss Penelope. There is no time to waste.”

“Yes, of course.” The orange-haired witch nodded. “My apologies, Professor.”

“None necessary,” Vanessa answered. “Just keep focusing.”

Penelope nodded once more before she cracked the

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