While he did as instructed, I opened the stopper on the sample of antipotion. The liquid inside was a gray-brown color—like brackish water. Its scent was reminiscent of dirty feet and rotten meat, but it was still a pleasant change from the Gray Wolf’s horrible odors. John returned and I made quick work of donning the goggles and mask.
I took a small pipette from the counter and sucked up a little bit of the antipotion. Behind me, John scooted back a couple of inches. I glanced at him over my shoulder. The goggles made him wobbly, as if I were watching him through water. “Just in case,” he said.
With a grimace I turned back to the beaker. If this were truly dangerous, he would have already run from the room. I blew out a breath. “Here goes nothing.”
The instant the first drop of antipotion hit the Gray Wolf, a puff of smoke curled up from the surface. A split second later, the consistency of the oily liquid morphed into a sort of greasy, smoking solid. I touched the edges of the beaker and found it seriously hot to the touch. And all that was before the clump burst into a small column of flame. “Huh,” I said. “That’s not good.”
We weren’t in any immediate danger in the lab since it was such a small sample. But it wasn’t hard to imagine what injecting the antipotion into the vein of a Gray Wolf addict would do to their body.
“Well,” I said, “I’d say that’s pretty much a fail.”
The corner of his mouth came up. “Told you. Now what?” He said it too casually. We both knew exactly what came next. He just didn’t want to risk saying it out loud and spooking me. I kind of hated him for knowing how to manage me like that.
I’d watched too many people die from potions. Seen people burn from the inside. Seen flesh and bone collapse as a body consumed its own cells. Neither fate was one I wanted for my brother.
Which meant it was time to get down to the business of magic.
“I need a heat source, a Florence boiling flask, water, and glass stirring rods.” I continued to list as Volos gathered equipment. Finally I finished, “Oh, and gloves and a beer, if you have any.”
While he went to collect everything, I stared at the potions and tried not to look as if I was screwing up my courage.
“I think this is all of it,” he said, setting the last of the items down. I grabbed the beer he’d pulled from the fridge and smiled at it. I typically bought the cheapest lager I could find, but this was an expensive brew from Germany. “Good to go?”
I pulled my mask down, twisted the top off the bottle, took a long pull, and exhaled loudly. The fancy lab and equipment I could live without, but I could definitely get used to the fancy beer. “Let’s get to it. How much Gray Wolf you got?”
“Two more vials, but that’s the only sample of antipotion.”
After I replaced my mask, I poured about half of the Gray Wolf into a boiling flask and set that over a Bunsen burner. While that started to simmer, I used a pipette to place a few drops of Gray Wolf on a glass slide. A quick look through the microscope didn’t provide any clues. I hadn’t really expected it to, though.
Truth was, I was just trying to ease my way into the magic by using more scientific methods. Luckily, Volos had made sure his lab was filled with all sorts of expensive equipment. It was ironic since, back in the day, we’d cooked in kitchens and bathrooms with whatever supplies we could beg, borrow, or steal. That’s why dirty magic was sometimes called “bathtub alchemy.” It’s also one of the reasons dirty magic is considered dirty—the cooks weren’t in sanitized labs with sterile equipment and controlled ingredients. Though Volos’s lab was clean, the work we were doing was definitely dirty.
I lit a match and held it to a piece of paper coated with a drop of Gray Wolf. The paper didn’t blacken at all. Instead, the ashes were snow-white immediately. That was the antimony’s fingerprint at work.
I took a step back and chewed on my lip. The best way to break down a potion was to experience it with all five senses. I had sight and smell covered. When the potion started to bubble in earnest on the hot plate, the components didn’t make any odd squeaks or crackles—so hearing didn’t tell me much. Taste was out of the question since it would require me to ingest some of the dangerous brew. Not to mention the wolf urine.
Instead, I took a little between my fingers and found the texture oddly thick and oily. I raised it to my nose and sniffed again. Rubbing it had warmed the potion to body temperature, which brought out a new texture and scent.
“Petroleum jelly,” I said, almost to myself. From the corner of my eye, I saw John watching me with a small smile hovering on his lips. “What?” I sounded defensive even to my own ears.
He shrugged. “Nothing. It’s just great to see you at work again.”
Hairs prickled on the back of my neck. I wasn’t sure if it was being this close to magic after so long, or an actual sense of foreboding. Either way, I pulled my eyes from his and went back to work.
Clean magic always required the use of organic—read: expensive—essential oils. They were more stable and potent, but their prohibitive cost made them a rarity in street potions. Therefore, the covens tended to rely on cheap petroleum jelly and mineral oils to serve as the bases for their potions. Problem was, when applied topically, they also tended to clog pores and prevent the skin from releasing toxins. When they were absorbed by the body, they also could keep vitamins from being metabolized properly. That’s why so many potion addicts had horrible acne and lesions.
“Do you have a pencil or something?”
A split second later, a legal pad and an expensive-looking fountain pen appeared in front of me. I didn’t comment that I would have preferred a simple pencil. While John watched over my shoulder, I listed all the ingredients I’d identified so far. Tapping the pen on the tabletop, I realized nothing I’d listed was especially interesting or unique. Granted, the way the components were combined was sometimes more important than the chemicals themselves. But in order for these things to do what I’d seen Gray Wolf do, it would take some seriously dark energy.
“Where’s your list?” I asked, looking up. He grabbed a file folder from a leather satchel he’d brought with him and flipped through to a page with a list written in his bold cursive. Comparing the two, I realized his correlated with what I’d seen so far, but then I saw something different.
I looked up. “Dragon’s blood? You’re sure?”