The chair beside me screeched as Alistair pulled it back and sat in it. “So, here’s the deal. Any locator spell that calls forliverwortis a sham. It’s probably why the Warden didn’t remove that spell from your book. You need an eyeball— you know, to representseeingand all that— and liverwort is going to affect the integrity of the eyeball.”
“Arealeyeball?” Marcus asked, sounding nervous. Ancestors, for a necromancer who could make skeletons come back to life, he sure seemed squeamish about eyeballs.
“You think plastic is going to work?” Alistair huffed. “Yes, arealeyeball.”
“Where are we going to get an eyeball?” I asked.
Alistair nudged me with his elbow. “We could take yours, considering you’re not using them. Am I right?”
He laughed loudly, though I wasn’t amused. “I’m not digging my eyeball out of my skull for a spell,” I grumbled.
“That’s fine,” Alistair replied. “I’m sure Marcus will volunteer, if this spell is that important to you and all. What did you say you were looking for? Demigods? You wanna find them before the Warden does?”
I felt the blood drain from my face. I couldn’t remember how much we’d said. I’d been so careful not to mention demigods out in the open in case someone overheard. Marcus ruined it in a simple sentence.
“We’re not looking for demigods,” Marcus said quickly. “We’re looking for… something else.”
“Huh.” Alistair sounded intrigued. “I guess you haven’t changed that much. You still lie like shit.”
“I’m not lying,” Marcus said, though his voice was several pitches higher than normal.
Alistair wasn’t buying it. “And you were such a good actor in theater club. I don’t get it.”
“Look,” I said. “You want to be our ally? You’re gonna have to stop asking questions.”
Alistair sighed. “Fine, but I’m only doing this because Marcus is an old friend.”
“I thought we were allies, not friends,” Marcus pointed out.
“It’s whatever,” Alistair replied nonchalantly. “We’re gonna need some ingredients. Milk, honey, sea salt, pomegranates, a mirror, and an eye of a newt.”
Marcus raced around the room gathering the ingredients. “Hey, I found them all.”
“Noteye of newt,the herb,” Alistair clarified. “I need anactualeyeball. The eye of a newt. That’s why people always fuck the spell up. They never read the specifics.”
“Oh, uh… here we go,” Marcus said, sounding flustered. He placed the ingredients on the table. I heard one roll away, but Oberi rushed over and caught it before it could shatter on the ground.
I winced as Oberi placed the jar in my hand. “Try to be a little more careful next time, Marcus. With the limited resources at the Institute, we may not have many chances to perform this spell.”
“I’mbeingcareful,” Marcus insisted. “Okay. What’s next?”
Alistair began giving instructions on how to mix the ingredients. “Simmer the brew for fifteen minutesexactly,” he emphasized. “One second too soon or too late could change the whole potion.”
The room got quiet as Marcus turned on a burner and began stirring the cauldron, making scratching noises on the side of it with his spoon. “So, you’re an Alchemist?” Marcus asked.
Alistair chuckled. “Hell, no. I just like to experiment with stuff every now and then. I’m a Mentalist.”
“That’s the witch Cast known for telekinesis and mind powers,” Marcus explained to me.
“Remember Eliza Truman?” Alistair asked.
“Sure,” Marcus replied. “She played the pumpkin inCinderellafreshman year.”
“Yeah, she’s an Alchemist now,” Alistair told him. “We came up with this potion together when I lost Pig last semester.”
“Pig?” I asked.
“My cat,” he clarified. “Named for her tendency to pig out. I’ve gotta be careful in the cafeteria. She’ll eat anything. Anyway, I was the brains, Eliza was the brawn, and we found Pig locked in the Vanishing Stairwell back at school. She survived, thank the Goddess.”
