Part One: Chapter Twelve

Part One: The Spider

“We don’t have a lot of time, but I’ll teach you the best I can. They’re going to look for you. I’ll try to find a book on hybrids to see if what the best way to kill them is. Give me your hand.” Lizzie scribbled with a black marker words on Chuck’s hand. “Those are simple helpful attacks. Pronounce them best you can. Also make up some rhymes on the spot that might work.” Lizzie pulled out a pot. Then she filled it with water.

Chuck nodded. Her head was reeling.

Lizzie snapped in her ear. “Chuck, this is important. This is your brewing lesson. Do you remember the two types of brews?”

“Uh, elixirs…and antidotes.”

“Good job, what do you all brews need?” Lizzie set the pot on the stove.

Charlotte scratched her head. “Thyme?”

Lizzie smiled at her. “Great! You ready to make your first brew?” When Chuck readily nodded, Lizzie pulled out a bunch of jars and containers of various shapes and sizes, smells and textures for Charlotte to work with. “This is a very basic antidote. It is also one of the most important. It’s a healing brew.” She reached into a low cabinet and pulled out a small pot. “What’s the most important part of a brew?”

“The witch?” Chuck guessed.

Lizzie rubbed her forehead. “You said it about five seconds ago.”

“Thyme?”

“Good. Now each ingredient will need an equal amount of time in your hands. We’ll do about a minute. As you get better at brewing, you won’t need to take as much time.” Lizzie handed Chuck a jar labeled ‘THYME’.

Prudently, Chuck poured the leaves into her hands. After waiting a minute, she let them fall into the water. “So now what?”

“Next you’ll need to add ground spinach. So how should you crush it?” Lizzie tossed her a bag of soft wet spinach leaves.

Unsure, Charlotte replied, “A blender? Does it matter?” She twiddled her hands anxiously when Lizzie did not respond.

She smiled. “Good, it actually doesn’t matter. A brew is enchanted by a witch’s touch. No witch. No brew. Simple as that. It’s the reason you won’t find hybrids, divinities, or shifters making them. Unfortunately, this jacks up the price on the black market for not only the potions, but also the witches who make them. Go on.” Lizzie gestured toward the retro blender in the corner.

Charlotte pushed the leaves into a blender until it was a thick green paste. “Ugh, I should’ve touched them before I ground them. I have to touch that now, don’t I?”

With a wry smile, Lizzie stated, “All part of the learning process.”

Chuck submerged her hand in the goop. Then she proceeded to scoop it out and plop it into the water with the thyme. She flicked the last of it from her fingers. “Gross.”

“Get used to it, girly.” Lizzie encouraged playfully. “So what’s next?”

Chuck hesitated. “I don’t know. More thyme?”

“Try it.”

Chuck held the herb for a moment before she released it to go join its friends in the pot, boiling. “And now?”

“Flour to thicken. And a stir. And salt.” Lizzie handed her each to touch and then mix into the antidote.

With a puff of flour, Chuck stirred the mix, which emitted a strange pungent odor. Then she added a pinch of salt to the thickened mixture. “Anything else?”

“Shredded carrots.” Lizzie pointed at the orange stalks next to a grater.

Chuck moved quickly through the carrots, hoping to only hold each for a minute. When the pile of orange shreds grew tall, Chuck dumped it straight into the pot.

“You didn’t touch them.” Lizzie noted.

Quickly, Charlotte defended her actions. “Yes, I did while I was grating them.”

“Very good.” Lizzie grinned at her. “You’re good at this, you know.”

Charlotte blushed. “Thanks. It’s probably just beginner’s luck though.”

Lizzie sucked up a portion of the mixture and capped it in a glass vial. “Now we wait.” After twenty minutes, Lizzie pulled it out again. It was congealed and came out more like gelatin than a drink. Lizzie poured it into a glass. From the butcher block, Lizzie selected a knife. “Alright, alright, ready?”

“For what? Isn’t it done?”

Lizzie shook her head. “This is the most important part. The test. If you did a good job, you’re healed. If you did a bad job, then you earned the injury.”

“I’m not doing that! It’s crazy.” Chuck tucked her hands beneath her armpits.

“Every witch needs to know how to make a good antidote. This is how my mother taught me.”

“With pain? Which whack-o told her that?” Charlotte spat.

Lizzie shrugged. “It was in a book she read. A book by a man named Fergus Montgomery. Now hold out your damn hand already.”

Realizing her grandfather would’ve taught in her in a similar manner, Chuck reluctantly held out her hand. Biting her lip, pain sliced across her palm, followed by warm wet blood.

“Would you stop being such a baby? Drink up.”  Lizzie placed the cool glass in Chuck’s good hand.

With a swig of the potent bitter slop, Charlotte gazed down at her hand to watch as the cut slowly mended itself. The pain of the cut faded as well. It left only a bloodstain as a reminder. “Wow. Could an antidote heal my-”

“No, your leg is a direct effect of your mystic karma. Healing it would only make your karma worse than it is.” Lizzie bottled the rest of the brew and placed it in the fridge in a water bottle. “You’re going to need it.” Lizzie noticed how revitalized Chuck’s skin looked. “Maybe it’s a bit too strong. You probably held it too long. Ready to try another? It’s called a focus brew. It’s a little more difficult.”

“Sounds like an elixir.”

“It’s still an antidote because of its weakness. Don’t worry. A Spanish witch, Arturo Diaz, first made this brew. He used a lot of sweet smelling ingredients. In addition to that, he was also a small time explorer so his brews feature a combination of Spanish and Aztec ingredients. The first thing you’ll need is a pulverized orange. I think we can stray away from the minute rule. Try only thirty seconds.”

Chuck shredded the orange to a zesty, pulpy mess, which she dunked her hand into. “Should I turn the stove on?”

“This is actually a cold brew. So don’t bother.” Lizzie handed her a mixing bowl. “You’ll want to add a handful of molasses next.”

“I have to put my hand in molasses?”

Lizzie laughed. “You have a lot of stuff to get over if you want to live as a witch.” After unscrewing the cap, Lizzie poured the sticky glop into Charlotte’s hands.

The mass dense glue-like sugar refused to part with Chuck’s hands. Eventually, she had to scrape it off with a spatula. “What’s next?”

“That would be lemon zest. And one pumpkin seed.” Lizzie lifted a bulky pumpkin onto the counter. “Good luck.” Joining the pumpkin was a lemon.

“Where did you get a pumpkin in December?” Chuck queried.

Slightly exasperated, Lizzie rolled her eyes. “That’s not important right now.”

Charlotte refined the edge of the lemon. Then she stabbed the pumpkin, carving out one side for a single seed. “Happy Halloween.”

“And stir.”

“Then thyme right?” Charlotte asked.

“Wrong. This brew doesn’t need thyme. That’s why it’s so weak. Arturo Diaz hated the taste of thyme.” Lizzie pulled out another water bottle for this mixture. “You earned this one, Chuck. Take a little sip when you feel tired or if you have a test. You’ll be alert and focused.”

“Thanks Lizzie. Not just for this. For everything. I kind of lost myself. And I think being a witch gave me…something. So thanks, I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You’re smart and you’re a powerful witch. You would’ve figured it out yourself, but I’m glad to have helped you. It’s almost sunrise. Do you want to sleep for a little bit before you go back…and…you know? Do you want my help? I could help you.”

Somberly, Chuck shook her head. “I need to do this alone. I need to show the DiRagno’s what kind of witch they’re messing with. Besides I don’t want you to get hurt.” Chuck pulled both water bottles out and memorized which one held which. Antidote in the red, focus brew in the blue, she repeated in her head.

“What about hurting yourself, Chuck?”

“Let’s just say, I don’t have a family in a house where I’ll be too missed,” She said grimly. She slung her backpack over her shoulder. “I’ll see you soon, Lizzie.” Chuck slipped out of the house as dawn readily approached. Paranoia overcame her while she walked home. Her head darted in all directions surveying for attackers. Unfortunately, it turned in the wrong direction.

With a dull smack, a baseball bat smashed her head. Someone held her head and poured bitter chocolaty yet dry drink down her throat. The cold rush of a drink before darkness.  

 

Author's Note

Took me long enough...

Reviews

[Ardeth Lane]

I liked this chapter. Actually I laughed during the part of brewing because I was honestly expecting Lizzie to say, "Just kidding! We're making a snack!" Or something like that at first because of all the common ingredients. The pumpkin is my favorite part by far :)

I am accusing her adoptive parents of the attack at the end of the chapter. But they don't seem like the kind of people who'd actually go out and do something on their own. I like it though-good chapter