Daemon sipped the coffee he had brewed strong enough to bite. Physically, he was tired. Mentally, he was reeling. As Jaenelle created each of the spells he had asked for, he’d had to learn how to use them—which meant she’d explained the process to him as she created one, then had him practice with it while she created the ones he would take with him. She’d reviewed his efforts, given more instructions on how to hone the effect—and never once asked him what he intended to do, for which he was grateful. Of course, he didn’t know exactly what she was going to do either. There were some things one Black Widow did not ask another.

Jaenelle held up a vial about the size of her index finger that was filled with dark powder. “This is a stimulant. A strong one. One dose will keep you on your feet for about six hours. You can mix it with any kind of liquid—” She eyed the coffee. “—but if you mix it with something brewed like that it’s going to have more kick.”

“That’s one dose?” Daemon asked. Then he bit his tongue to keep from laughing and wished he could have a picture of the look on her face.

“There are enough doses in here for the next three days and then some,” she said dryly.

“Well, I’d better find out what it does.” Daemon held out the mug of coffee.

She opened the vial, tapped it lightly over the mug. The sprinkle of powder dissolved instantly.

He took a sip. A little nutty, just a little sharp. Actually quite—

He wheezed. His body suddenly had a kind of battlefield alertness, a fierce need to move. His mind was no longer hazed by mental fatigue. After the first few explosive seconds, he felt himself settle down, but there remained that bright reservoir of energy.

He drained the mug, waited a few seconds. No physical changes, just the feeling that the reservoir got delightfully bigger.

Jaenelle carefully packed the vial into the box. “Everything has a price, Daemon,” she said firmly.

That sobered him. “It’s addictive?”

The look she gave him could have cut a man in half. “No, it is not. I use this sometimes—which you will not mention to any of the family. They’d throw three kinds of fits if they knew. This will keep you going, even if you don’t get any food or sleep, but if you don’t renew the dose every six hours, your feet are going to go out from under you and you’d better be prepared to sleep for a day.”

“In other words, if I miss a dose, I’m not going to be able to flog myself awake again no matter what’s going on around me.”

She nodded.

“All right, I’ll remember.”