“Blair, you killed your mom. You used death magic on another witch. Something else that can get you in trouble with the council. You might not care about your life the way you’re going about things. But I fucking do. I need you to care. I need you to take care of yourself.”

I place the jar of graveyard dirt on the table and look over at my cousin, her red hair a mess, bags under her eyes. “She tried to kill me first, and she was going to do it again. She rendered you unconscious, for fuck’s sake. What was I supposed to do?”

“I’m not saying it was unjustified. I’m saying you’re being careless and acting like it doesn’t affect you. I don’t even know how you’re up walking after using a spell like that.” Stevie looks me up and down, like maybe my flesh is falling off or there’s some sign of wear that she can’t see.

“I’m fine, Stevie.”

“That’s the whole fucking point, Blair! You shouldn’t be fine. Not after killing your mother, both psychologically and physically.”

“I’m sorry that I’m not weeping in a corner or that my soul isn’t tattered into shreds, Stevie. This is who I am. Now, are you going to help me with this potion or not?”

“You know what, do it yourself. If you can’t find it in yourself to care about your safety, why should I?” Stevie turns on her heel and goes up to her room. It’s the first time I’ve seen my cousin genuinely pissed at me and it feels like acid down my throat and stomach. But I’m too stubborn to apologize. Potions might not be my specialty, but I can make this work.

Grumbling and irritated, I pull the cauldron from underneath the sink and place it over the stove. It’s 2022 but you still have to use a fucking cauldron, riddle me that. An electric stove is fine, but if you don’t use an ancient conduit like this thousand year old hunk of junk, you might as well not bother brewing anything. I follow the directions. Adding in the flowers, moon water and a drop of my blood. Once it comes to a boil, I add the dried ingredients like the graveyard dirt, elderberries, lavender, and alder cones.

The directions say to let it simmer for fifteen minutes, not touching or stirring anything. I make sure the stove isn’t too hot and watch as it bubbles and slowly turns a disgusting shade of olive. Frankly, the potion looks like shit. At least I have the perfect test subject in the basement to administer the potion to. It will be beneficial to all of us if Clover forgets her little mini vacation here.