"I don't just mean that. But partly that, yes. if I'm in bed with someone, then there are more chances for my glasses to fall off, and if that happens, I might turn them into stone," Thalia says.

  "Ah, and that's not the kind of rock hard you want in the bedroom," I joke to try and relieve some of the tension.

  She lets out a loud groan. "You know how tired that joke is for gorgons, right?"

  Amusement at my own joke bubbles out and through me, even if I know I should be trying to take this seriously. "I'm sorry, it was just right there and I knew I had to say it."

  "The joke is crass, but it's true. Sorry I turned you into stone last night, honey, gets old really fast."

  "It does if you call your boyfriends honey." I really need to hold my tongue a bit better.

  "Mickie," she scolds.

  "All right, sorry. I'll try and stop. You know I just can't help it." I hold up my hands in mock defeat.

  "But you get what I mean."

  I can tell from her expression that my joking is actually working. While I'm saying stupid things, they're helping to put her at ease and not worry about what I'm thinking. "I see how it could be a problem, yes. But I think I might have a solution," I admit, remembering something I saw in an old grimoire once. I only remember it because I thought it was funny at the time and wondered why anyone would need a potion to stop someone turning into stone.

  But when I think about it with what I now know, it makes a lot of sense. The witches in Ancient Greece will likely have helped the gorgons who became part of the human legends back before supernaturals came out in the open.

  "What kind of solution?" Thalia asks hesitantly.

  "I don't want to say yet." The last thing I want is to get her hopes up and then have to dash them because I'm wrong about what's possible.

  And then there's the fact the solution is a potion. It's not something I'm going to be able to make myself, even if it's for Thalia.

  No, especially if it's for Thalia. I don't want to risk her health with any attempt at potion making I do.

  She narrows her eyes at me, clearly trying to work out what I'm up to.

  "Don't look at me like that. I promise I have nothing but good intentions." I hold my hands up to show I'm not planning anything weird.

  "It's not your intentions I'm worried about," she mutters.

  "I'd be annoyed at you, but you have a point." I'm impressed that she knows me so well after so little time. "I promise that this time I'm not going to let anything bad happen. I'm going to find a way for you to go on a date and not have to worry about the end of the night."

  "It's not the end of the first night I'm worried about," Thalia says.

  "I know. But if it works once, then hopefully it'll work every time. And don't rule it out on date one. You never know what might happen. Maybe he'll be super hot but you don't want to go on a second date." I really hope that'll be the case.

  "Then why would I want to sleep with him?"

  "For fun." I cock my head to the side, studying her and trying to work out if she feels like she can't do that, or if she just doesn't want to.

  "Ah."

  "But it doesn't matter whether or not you do, just that you have the choice to." I want her to know that this is all about what she wants. If she tells me that she definitely doesn't want to do the blind dating, then that's okay, I'll stop mentioning it, but what she's saying makes it sound like she's just worried about what it will mean.

  "True."

  "And I'm going to make it happen," I promise, determined even if I have no idea how I'm going to make it a reality.

  She sighs loudly. "Fine, I'll sign up for the blind date event."

  "Excellent." I can't stop the satisfied smile that spreads over my face, though I try not to let my expression slip too far into triumph.

  Really, I'm just glad she's trusting me to do this.

  The only problem with that is that now I have to figure out how to brew a potion I barely remember without it going wrong, or accidentally blowing up my flat.

  5

  Michaela

  * * *

  The horrible clenching sensation in my gut is just one of the ways I'm certain that this is a terrible idea, especially as I don't know the person I'm about to turn to for help.

  But after asking around, this is where I'm certain I need to be, and the warlock within should be able to help me brew the potion I need for Thalia.

  Whether it'll work is another matter, but I'm going to make her test it on me before I set her loose on the world.

  I approach the lab door and try to quash the nerves building inside me. All I'm doing is asking someone about a potion. There's nothing wrong with that.

  Should I knock?

  Technically, it's part of the academy and I'm free to go inside, but somehow, that feels rude.

  I raise my fist and rap on the door a couple of times, then wait to see if anyone's going to respond. I'll give it a moment, and then head inside regardless of if I get an answer, I feel like that's fair.

  When no answer comes, I push on the door and step inside, trying to keep the staring to a minimum. I'm not doing any courses that involve spending time in the potion labs for obvious reasons, which means I've never seen them before.

  A large cast-iron cauldron bubbles away in the corner and emits the worst smell I've ever encountered. The whole place looks more like a hedge witch's kitchen rather than the academy potions lab. What is it with witches and the aesthetic?

  "Hello?" I call out.

  Someone curses from inside the store cupboard. "Who is it?"

  I clear my throat. "My name's Michaela. Are you Owen? I was told you could help me."

  More crashing sounds from inside until a guy around my age pops his head out. "Who said that?"

  "Just people. They said you could help me make a potion."

  He steps fully out of the cupboard and looks me up and down. "But you're a witch."

  "Well noticed," I mutter. No doubt the wand sticking out of my pocket gave that away.

  "Why don't you brew it yourself?" Owen asks.

  "Let's just say I'm magically challenged when it comes to potions and leave it at that."

  He lets out a pleasantly low chuckle. "Say no more. What kind of potion are you looking for?"

  Ah, now this was the part that might send him running. Or more accurately, might make him banish me from his lab.

  "I want a potion to stop a gorgon from turning people into stone."

  He raises an eyebrow. "You're not asking for much, are you?"

  "Can you help me or not?" If he can't, then I'm going to have to find another way to help my best friend.

  "I can," he responds. "For a price."

  I dread to think what that's going to be. "What price?"

  "A drink."

  My eyebrows shoot up. "A drink?" I repeat.

  "Yes."

  "You mean like a date?"

  His lips quirk up into a smile, giving him a slightly mischievous air. "If you want it to be. But it can also just be a drink."

  Why am I a little disappointed by that? "Okay, that sounds fair."

  "Excellent. I'll also need ginger for the potion."

  "Ginger?" My voice squeaks as I ask. I know potions may not be my forté, but I don't recall any of them ever having ginger in them.

  "Ginger," Owen repeats firmly. "I have all of the other ingredients, I just need some more ginger."

  "So you already know how to make the potion?" I ask, trying to keep my surprise out of my voice. Is this the kind of thing I'd be able to make if I knew my way around a cauldron?

  "I was looking at the recipe earlier," he responds, heading towards the potion bubbling away in the corner.

  I follow him, mostly because I'm curious. "Why?"

  "Don't you like to look through spell books to see if there's anything interesting in them?"

  "Not since I was about seven," I admit.

  "Is that why you're bad at potions?" he asks with a curious expression on his face.

  "Is looking through books the reason you're good at them?" I counter.

  "Fair point. Will you pass me the cumin shaker?" he asks, gesturing to a shelf behind me.

  I turn without thinking about it and search for a familiar-looking spice bottle. If I wasn't a witch, I'd probably think that the spice rack belongs in someone's kitchen.

  Except for the fact that there's a jar of fly wings sitting next to the cinnamon, and a squeezy bottle of frog mucus next to the honey.

  I find the cumin and pull it off the shelf, handing it to Owen.

  He flashes me a warm smile as he takes it. "Thanks."

  "So, are you often alone in the lab?" I didn't know what to expect when I came here, but I think it was definitely more people.

  "This is one of the practice labs they have set aside. People can come and go as they want, but it isn't used for teaching. But I'm sure you know what students are like."

  I chuckle nervously and adjust my glasses. "I have a good idea, yes."

  "You're a first-year, right?"

  I nod. "Is that a problem?"

  "I hope not. I am too." He uncaps the cumin bottle and gives it a couple of shakes over the potion.

  It shimmers and the bad smell from before is replaced by something a lot sweeter and more palatable.

  "Oh."

  "Surprised?" he asks with an impish grin.

  "A little. The way people were talking, it seems as if you've made a name for yourself already. I assumed you'd been here for years."

  "And not five months," he finishes for me.

  "Exactly."

  He hands the cumin pot back to me so I can return it to its shelf. "I get that a lot," he admits. "But it just comes from already knowing what I want to do when I graduate."

  "Let's guess, apothecary?" I ask.

  He raises an eyebrow. "No. But you can take as many guesses as you want to figure it out."

  "Wouldn't it be easier if you just tell me?"

  "Easier, yes. As fun? No, probably not, especially when we'll be spending some time together while brewing the potion you want."

  "I don't think it's a good idea to get me to help," I mutter.

  "You can't be that bad." The disbelief in his voice is something I know well.

  "All right, let me show you." I pick up a miniature cauldron. "Put me some of that in here."

  "Okay..." He takes it from me and ladles out some of his potion while I set up a small bunsen burner on the workbench next to me.

  I pause, realising how reckless it is for me to be doing this. "You have safety goggles, right?"

  "Over on the door." He points to where a few spare lab coats are also hanging. It's probably a good idea to put one of those on too.

  I hurry over and put on my safety gear, bringing some back for Owen too. The potion he's making can't be particularly dangerous if he's not wearing any already, but I know what I'm like.

  He sets the small cauldron on top of the tripod over my bunsen burner.

  "You might want to cover your cauldron too," I warn.

  He eyes me warily, but flips a lever on the side of the cauldron so a lid snaps into place over it.

  I hand him the protective gear.

  "I'm really not sure this is necessary."

  "Oh, trust me it is," I mutter. "What needs to go into the potion next?" I gesture to it, though I'm sure he already knows what I mean.

  "Dandelion seeds. You'll just need one for the amount you've got there," he says.

  I nod and turn back to the spice rack, searching for the dandelion seeds. Ah, there it is. I take it back to the workbench and pull open a drawer to look for tweezers so I can get out a single seed. I may not have been in this lab before, but the set-up seems fairly similar to the one I had at school.

  "Is there anything I need to do or say when I drop it in?" I ask Owen. Some potions are more complicated than others.

  He shakes his head. "Just add it."

  "Great." At least that's a little reassuring. There's less that can go wrong if I do it that way.

  I try not to pay attention to the way he's so focused on me. Why did I think this was a good idea? I barely know him, it shouldn't matter what he thinks of my potion making skills.

  The cap on the dandelion bottle is a little stiff, but I manage to get it off without spilling any. I take the tweezers and carefully pull out one dandelion seed. It looks so small like this. How can that possibly cause a potion disaster?

  It's a question I should know better than to ask. I can cause a disaster with the simplest of ingredients, which is something Owen is about to find out.

  I push the cap back onto the open bottle. The last thing I want is for the potion to blow up or bubble over and contaminate it somehow.

  "Ready?" I ask Owen.

  "I'm not even sure," he responds, seeming warily amused.

  I take a deep breath. It's unusual for me to even attempt potion making, but here I'm doing it willingly in order to make a point.

  I push the thought to the side and release my grip on the tweezers so the dandelion seed falls into the bubbling potion below.

  For a moment, nothing happens, and relief threatens to consume me. Have I managed to break my bad potion streak?

  As if summoned by my thoughts, the potion begins to bubble more viciously and turns an alarming shade of green.

  I glance at Owen to ask if this is what it's supposed to be doing, but the alarm on his face answers the question before I even ask it.

  A large jet of potion spurts into the air. I squeeze my eyes shut and raise my arm as extra protection on reflex, only opening them again when nothing seems to happen.

  The workbench in front of me is covered in green gloop, but that seems to be the only issue. I reach forward and shut off the gas supply to the Bunsen burner.

  "Believe me now?" I ask Owen.

  He chuckles, seeming more amused than annoyed. "How about you just help me with the gorgon potion by fetching things?"

  "That sounds good to me," I agree, not missing the fact he's confirmed that he does know who the potion is for, even if he doesn't know Thalia is the gorgon.

  But he's yet to reveal why he was looking at the potion in the first place.

  I guess that's just another mystery for me to solve about him.

  6

  Michaela

  * * *

  I eye the lab door warily, unsure if I'm supposed to knock this time or if I can go straight in. I'm not sure why I feel so strange about this, especially after being comfortable enough to share my inability to correctly brew potions with Owen right after we left.

  Before I can touch it, the door swings open and I find him standing on the other side with a charming lopsided grin on his face.

  I'm not completely sure, but I may be starting to like him.

  "Are you coming in, or are you going to stand there all day?" he asks.

  "I was trying to decide whether I should knock," I admit.

  He chuckles. "You realise this is an academy owned lab, right? You're not asking to come into my bedroom."

  "Technically, the academy owns your bedroom too," I point out.

  "In which case, you're welcome to just walk in there any time too," he jokes.

  I chuckle nervously. "Maybe not the best way to invite a girl into your room."

  Horror flits over his face. "I'm sorry, I just realised how that sounded. I promise I'm not insinuating anything."

  "It's fine." I give him what I hope is a reassuring smile. "But I promise that if I find myself in the vicinity of your room, I'll knock to give you a warning I'm there."

  "Thanks," he mutters, stepping back into the lab.

  Is he being awkward because he doesn't want me to think about spending time in his room, or because he does?

  I push the thought aside. It's better if I don't dwell on it, especially when I haven't even decided if I like him yet.

  "I got your ginger," I say to distract both of us from the comment.

  "Oh, good. Thanks." He heads to the back of the room where the large cauldron sits, except that this time it's empty.

  "I didn't know which type you'd want, so I got everything the supermarket had." I start pulling bottles and jars of ginger out, setting them on the bench next to the cauldron. I put the fresh ginger down last and wait for him to pick the one he wants.

  Owen raises an eyebrow as he looks at the selection. "You thought crystalised ginger went in potions?"

  "Everything can go in potions," I point out. "But no, that's for snacking." I grab the jar and unscrew the top, pulling a piece out and popping it in my mouth before holding it out for him.

  He gives me a funny expression but takes a piece of ginger for himself anyway. "It's good."

  "Mmhmm. This is my favourite brand. Magic makes me snacky."

  "So you can do spells?"

  "Yes. Luckily, my terrible magic skills are relegated to potions themselves." I resist the urge to pull out my wand and do something to prove it.

  "Good to know. Have you seen the potion before?" he asks, gesturing to a stand holding a tablet.

  I shake my head. "I vaguely remember seeing it as a child and not understanding why anyone would need a potion like it," I admit as I step closer to him so I can look over the recipe. Even if I'm not able to make it myself, it'll be helpful if I know what the ingredients are and what needs doing when.

  "Ah, you hadn't met any gorgons at that point," he observes.

  I grimace and a small blush rises to my cheeks. "I didn't think they existed," I admit.

  Owen lets out a loud laugh. "I'm sorry."

  "Don't be. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I knew a vampire and a shifter, they went to my school. But I didn't know a gorgon so I just thought they were something from Greek legend."

  "How old were you when you realised they were real?"

  "Older than you want me to be," I mutter.

  "So eighteen?"

  "Are you suggesting I found out when I came to Obscure Academy and met one?"

  "Maybe." His lip quirks up into a smile. "But I'm also teasing. How old?" He picks up a large bottle of distilled water and starts pouring it into the cauldron.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10