Radical by Colleen Cowley

Author:Colleen Cowley [Cowley, Colleen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Slender Sky Books
Published: 2020-10-24T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Peter was crouched over the remains of the latest failed experiment when his charmed lockets flashed hot. Both of them, the one keyed to the entire town and the newly made one that picked up spells only on the property.

Had a wizard just dismantled the spell around the house?

His pair of lockets flared again, then a third time. Blood roared in his ears, his thoughts skittering in horrible directions. The wizard could be inside even now—Beatrix had no warning—why hadn’t he made her a locket keyed to this house or the town, something beyond her own property? Too late to run down now, too late already! The intruder could beat him to the brewing room, see her breaking federal law—

Peter thrust his hand into the pocket that held his two precious red leaves, grabbed one and materialized the next instant in the brewing room. Beatrix stood at the other end of the table, eyes wide, her astonishment crashing over him.

“Miss Harper,” he hastened to get in before she could ask what on earth he thought he was doing. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting. Where were we?”

Either the situation was odd enough to set off her internal alarm or his gut-clenching anxiety had splashed over to her, because she said, “Just about to start the migraine tincture, Omnimancer,” as if it were perfectly normal for him to teleport into the room to help her with medicine she required no assistance to make.

“Of course, thank you,” he said, looking at the brew she’d just finished, still green from the spell she’d cast to check its efficacy. If she’d been seen or heard, the jig was already up.

He tucked the vial behind ones filled with other medicines, hands trembling. Brewing would be interesting in this condition.

“Omnimancer …” Beatrix bit her lip. “Do you expect any visitors today?”

“Yes,” he said, perhaps a bit too emphatically. He took a deep breath to counteract the adrenaline and said, “You know we can’t go a day without the town adding to the request list.”

Beatrix nodded, eyes watchful. It was a small relief, at least, that she’d grasped the seriousness of the situation.

But then they had to actually make the tincture. He fumbled with his mortar and pestle, straining to catch some proof of an invisible third in the room. Should he cast the spell detector? No—better to make the wizard think they had no idea he was here, surely?

Peter picked up his container of pomegranate juice, realized his hands were shaking, and turned it over to Beatrix rather than attempt to pour it into the beaker himself.

She’d had a panic attack in this very room a few weeks ago, and yet now, while in imminent danger, her hands were steady. Panic, it seemed, hit her in the terrible waiting period between crises. She was good under pressure.

He’d thought he was, too, back in Washington. He was learning all sorts of unfortunate truths about himself these days. He pulled out a leaf to cast the tincture’s first spell and almost botched it.

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