Chapter 1 #3
“Don’t be a prissy princess. Grab a glass from the kitchen and dribble some blood while I hit the witchy pharmacy and snag the other ingredients.”
“I knew I should have gotten rid of Grams’ apothecary.
” I sighed. I’d found it only recently when I finally decided to hit the basement for decluttering.
I’d avoided going down there because I’d expected it to be the clusterfuck of hoarding.
It ended up being the least cluttered space in the house.
The concrete floor had been painted a light gray, probably to better display the golden glittery outline of the pentagram on it.
A cubby-style bookcase lined an entire wall and held jars of all sizes, the contents as varied as their shapes.
Some held powders—pollens, ground roots, the ashes of the dead.
Others sloshed with liquid, from a bright crimson to a fluid that I swore changed color the longer I stared at it.
A second bookcase, with many shelves, some closed off by locked doors, appeared to be for implements alone.
Crystal balls, mortar and pestles, crucibles, and other weird shit.
I’d not yet found the keys to see what hid inside the hidden areas.
Flo took a picture of the ingredient list. “It uses a lot of stuff. Should we do the spell downstairs?”
I shuddered. “Fuck no. Way too creepy. Not to mention, far from the snacks.” With the marijuana high hitting, I’d be needing some salty treats soon.
“Good thinking. That pint of ice cream I’ve got stashed in the freezer is calling my name.”
“Fuck the sugar. Give me the salty chips and dip.”
We eyed each other, and for a second, I thought Flo would say “fuck the spell, let’s eat,” but she remained determined.
“I’ll be back.” And yes, she said it in her best Arnie voice, which sucked, by the way, given her very high-pitched girlie tone.
It didn’t take me long to snag some blood.
The older I got, the more I bled. Annoying.
You’d think age would make it less. I mean look at everything else that declined in the body as we got older.
Less skin elasticity. Less hair—which, given I had too much, didn’t bother. Shitty sleep. Less patience.
I shoved in a new tampon and took my gross offering out to the living room to see Flo had dropped a load of bottles and left again to grab more. Since she might need a hand, I headed to the basement and found her rummaging.
“Whatcha looking for?”
“Something called interdimensional dust. Since I didn’t find that specific label, I grabbed one called infernal dust since it sounded close. It’s the last ingredient, other than candles.” Flo glanced at me over her shoulder. “Wanna grab them?”
“Done.” I brought up an armload of wax tapers and a candelabra.
If we were going to do this, might as well go for it Hollywood style.
I shoved the living room table—an old ornate chest someone had left on the curb and screamed for me to rescue it—and used it to prop Grams’ grimoire.
I set a lit candle on either side, prompting Flo, who’d returned with an armful, to coo.
“Ooh, now that’s what I call setting the mood.”
I snorted. “No, that would be the wine. Drink up, bitch.” I handed her a replenished glass.
She held it aloft. “To finding you the perfect man.”
“I’ll drink to that.” I also smoked to it as we squinted at the page trying to decipher the chicken scratching. A little bit of this. A little bit of that. A bunch of giggles. A few spilled drops of wine and then we hit the crux of the spell.
“Before you drop in your blood, remember to specify who you’re summoning,” Flo reminded.
I glanced at the murky liquid we’d created, foul smelling, gross looking, the only thing magical about it being the many ingredients somehow didn’t ooze a noxious fume.
“Here goes nothing.” As I held up the glass with my blood, I said, “I wish to summon a tall and handsome prince.” I didn’t specify hair color because, honestly, at this point, he could even be bald.
I then added, “A dude who is a total badass, knows how to take charge, is afraid of nothing, is goal oriented and uh…” Okay, my list might be getting a tad long and ridiculous so I ended with, “And he will be my one true love?” Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have sounded so questioning, but I mean, really, I had my doubts as to the whole thing.
Doubts or not, I dribbled the blood, more than one drop as the spell called for, and despite it coming from a glass, I felt lightheaded as if I donated it directly from a vein.
To my shock, the mixture instantly bubbled before exploding into a gas that had me and Flo gasping and gagging.
“Oh, that’s foul.” Flo staggered to the door and opened it.
Me, I crawled because I suddenly felt very woozy as the effects of the booze and joint hit. With Flo waving the door back and forth, the miasma from the small cauldron dissipated, sucked out into the night.
A night that didn’t suddenly produce my one true love.
A good thing since my stomach suddenly rebelled against the wine and I threw up all over my front step.