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“Change the shield so I can leave, because I swear to the spirits I will never let you coin travel me again.”
The Shadowflame on her hand moved in angry waves.
He gave a nod. “I assume you want to get your things?” His voice was casual as he walked back to the punching bag. “By the time you do, the shield will have been reset.”
She stormed out of the room, down the hallway, and back to the lab, where she grabbed her bag and notebook. This time she didn’t hesitate when she pulled her coin out of her pocket. Her thumb pressed against the worn metal as she closed her eyes, connecting with her White Magic. Take me home, she thought, and when she flipped the coin, there was no barrier to stop her. In the brief darkness between the mansion and Ivercrest, she could still feel the touch of Dawson’s cold hand ghost over her skin.
10
Dawson wasn’t there when she coin traveled to his lab the next night. Good, she didn’t want him looking over her shoulder anyway. Potion work required a high level of concentration. Add one ingredient, and another could react unexpectedly. Even with Obryn’s help, it was no easy task.
Blood sample after sample came back wrong. Frustrated, she threw the last failed attempt in the trash. Needle and vials in hand, she opened the door of the cooling chamber and pulled out the metal tray with Buckley’s body. She lifted the right side of the sheet to gain access to his arm and get more of his blood.
After she got her fresh samples, she shut the door of the cooling chamber with a loud thud and focused on testing her latest potion trial on a sample, ready to discard it as well, when suddenly a dark, shimmering liquid emerged from the blood. She stared, eyes wide, unable to believe Obryn and Dawson were right: Buckley had been poisoned.
This meant her locator potion worked! She wanted to cry with joy. The road to removing her scar was still long, but this was a massive first step. If she was able to locate whatever Dark Magic residue was left in her scar, she could start working on removing it.
She rushed to the magic ink on the table in the corner and sent Dawson a scroll, informing him of her finding.
A minute later, he coin traveled to the lab. Despite his pristine black suit, he looked exhausted. More so than the last time she had seen him, when he was in obvious pain. Now he just looked spent. It was no surprise, because she could smell Dark Magic on him.
“Show me,” he instructed, and walked to the microscope without a greeting.
“You were right, he has been—” She froze when she looked at the sample again. The blood had turned black. “Wait, that’s impossible.”
She tested another sample. At first it showed the poison but then turned to black liquid.
“Let me see,” he demanded, and leaned over the microscope.
She noticed the main artery on his neck beating steadily—too fast for a resting heart rate. He must still be in a lot of pain.
When he stood up straight, he looked completely unfazed by what he had seen. “Let’s test it on Buckley’s body next.”
Was he not paying attention? This was a failed experiment.
“Dawson, it’s not working. Something is turning the sample black. I have to go back and check the ingredients.”
He pulled the metal gurney with Buckley out of the cooling chamber. “Test it on the body.”
She shook her head. “If we do, the results will be void since the potion is doing something weird. I need to talk to Obryn.”
He balled his hands into fists. “Just do it, Winters. Your potion is working. Just inject the dead idiot already.”
His anger filled the air like a storm cloud.
Quietly, she loaded a syringe and walked over to Buckley. Dawson stood on the other side of the body, watching as she injected her potion.
She cast a diagnostics spell. When her hand hovered over the body, the blood in her body froze. Catastrophic organ failure. Whatever had poisoned Buckley had liquefied his organs. But unlike Synth, it hadn’t destroyed Buckley’s magic. Just his body.
“What is this?” she asked.
Dawson let out a breath. “Welcome to Dark Magic, Winters.”
The amount of damage Buckley’s body had gone through while nothing had appeared on the first scan still made no sense to her. “What exactly happened to him?”
Dawson cracked his neck. “Technically, that’s above your pay grade.”
“Good thing, then, that I’m not getting paid, and since I can’t talk about this to anyone or I’ll get expelled, you might as well tell me.”
