“Hey, man, Marcus,” he said, pushing up his glasses. “Didn’t know you had more people over, man. We’re looking for the Doritos. Have you seen the Doritos?”

Marcus pointed to an end table by the couch. Howie brightened as he lifted the Doritos bag, then turned dismayed when he saw it was nearly empty. “You were up here eating them around lunchtime,” Marcus reminded him.

Howie looked pleasantly skeptical. “I was?”

“Yeah,” I confirmed. “You said you were watching some mutant-shark movie that was on commercial.”

“Trey was watching that earlier today too,” remarked Eddie in a too-casual way that made me think Trey hadn’t been the only one watching it.

“Was it a double feature with Raptorbot Rampage?” Sydney asked dryly.

Howie held up a warning finger. “That stuff’s not made up, you know. Real life is stranger than fiction, man. The government’s hiding it from us.”

“Totally,” said Marcus, steering Howie back toward the beaded curtain. “Why don’t you take some cookies back down in the basement instead? I think I saw some Nutter Butters in the kitchen.”

Marcus got our host situated and then sent him on his way. None of the rest of us spoke until we heard the basement door close again. Eddie remarked, “Real life is stranger than fiction.”

“Tell me about it,” Sydney said, turning back to the canteen. “What do I have to do?”

“Drink it,” said Inez. “We mixed in some Tang to help it taste better. Emphasis on ‘help.’”

“But first we finish the spell,” said Maude. She and Inez linked hands, forming a circle around where the canteen sat on a table. I’d heard Sydney recite spells enough to recognize the sound of Latin. I’d also learned enough to know that most of the spells she used were simple ones with immediate results. The kind these witches were dealing with now—spells with multiple parts that required multiple magic users—were heady, and Sydney’s awed expression reflected as much. When they finished the chant, Maude handed the canteen over to Sydney with a flourish. “Bottoms up,” said Maude.

Sydney unscrewed the lid and grimaced at what she saw inside. I was standing near her and shared her disgust. The concoction smelled like wet rope . . . and Tang.

“The faster you drink it, the better,” added Inez. “Plugging your nose wouldn’t hurt either.”

Sydney did both, but none of it stopped her from gagging. “It better not come back up,” warned Inez. “Because we don’t have any more of it.”

Sydney winced and shook her head as she handed the canteen back. “It’s staying down. What now? Am I really stronger? Mostly I just feel like I want to brush my teeth.” She certainly hadn’t sprouted giant muscles nor begun compulsively pumping iron.

“And how much stronger?” asked Eddie eagerly. “Like lift-up-a-car stronger?”