Chapter 18: Catalyst

“You read the instructions,” Beca said. “I’ll mix the potion.”

“You?” Aidan said. “Do you remember what happened the last time you did that?”

“Yes, of course I do,” Beca said. “That was intentional.”

“Explosions are fun,” Bryn said, giggling.

“Potions are not your strength, Aidan,” Beca said. “Trust me.”

They set the cauldron on the small bedside table and arranged the ingredients in the order specified by the spell. Aidan read the incantation aloud several times until Beca had it memorized.

“You sure you’ve got it?” he asked. She repeated the words to him with perfection.

A bottle of red wine started the mixture, followed by a progression of roots, stems, leaves, and flowers from a variety of plants. After the botanicals came the bones and dried skins of a bat, a toad, and an owl.

“It’s not doing anything,” Aidan observed.

“It’s nothing more than a disgusting soup, you novice,” Bryn said. “She has to say the spell.”

“When I point at you, add the moonstone,” Beca said. She raised her hands and began the incantation in Old Gaelic, speaking the spell with perfect pronunciation. She pointed, and Aidan deposited the moonstone, which was the catalyst for the transformation.

The contents began to swirl and glow, and when Beca finished the incantation, the potion exploded in a blinding flash of light and a thick blue smoke that filled the room.

“I said no explosions!” Aidan said.

“That wasn’t me,” she protested. “It was the work of the spell.”