Chapter Seven
Olga Fischer was the very definition of aging gracefully.
She looked somewhere north of sixty, which meant she was a few centuries old.
Witches could live up to four centuries, barring sickness or outside intervention.
Her hair had faded from the customary black to a color that resembled fresh snow.
White, with just a touch of something else peeking through in places.
Her eyes were deep and knowing as she took me in.
She was perched on the edge of the sofa, a steaming cup of tea in one hand, and an iced tea with a lemon wedge in the other. This one for me.
I smiled, though it felt lopsided and false. “I take it I was expected?”
Her lips quirked into a small smile. “I had a feeling zis morning, ja.”
Olga possessed the gift of second sight, something she’d manifested in her later years.
It had caused her no end of trouble with her former High Witch.
Celestine Depraysie had been the bane of everyone’s existence for longer than was comfortable.
If I’d known half of what she’d done when we’d first met, I’d have waded into the crowd around her, fists flailing.
There were lines you didn’t cross, and Celestine had stepped over every single one when she’d hurt Maverick and Astrid.
Not to mention the damage she’d dealt her own daughter.
And every other warlock who had had the misfortune of crossing her path.
I took a seat across from her and pulled Alchemie für Anf?nger from my purse. Handing it to her, Olga’s expression brightened immediately, and she snatched it from my hands as soon as it was offered.
“Ah,” she sighed, and the tone of her voice sounded almost envious.
“Klaus Schwarzkopf. A rare find indeed. He guarded his vork quite zealously. I only met zee man once. But he vas a legend, to be sure. I’m surprised he vrote any of his information down.
He must have been training a student before he died. ”
I almost asked if she knew Schwarzkopf in the biblical sense.
Olga’s cardinal sin (well, according to her coven) had been loving too much.
She had a tendency to fall fast and hard with her male suitors, much to Celestine’s displeasure.
Witches weren’t supposed to fall for men.
They were supposed to use the male sex for procreation and that was it.
But Olga was a romantic. And now? Wanda and the rest of Scapegrace looked the other way most of the time, but I could tell at least Betanya found Olga’s affairs with men distasteful.
“I was gifted this book and a few others by a…” I paused, trying to think of how to explain the relationship between Smith and me. “Erm… a business associate.”
“For your business?” Olga asked.
I nodded. “He’s working on building me a laboratory where I can work on my alchemy magic without… incident. In return, he wanted me to create a gemstone for him. Do you, uh, know anything about creating gemstones from ashes?”
“Oh, ja. It is a very old practice. It requires the highest level of training to turn somezing into somezing else.”
My heart sank, just a little. “But… this book should give me the basics I need to start moving in that direction, right?”
Olga nodded. “Most certainly. You vant it translated, ja?”
I nodded back sheepishly. “Sorry to bother you with this, but I wasn’t sure where else to turn.”
Olga waved my protest away with an unconcerned hand. “Oh, nonsense. I can write out zee lessons as long as you let me keep zee original copy safe here. I’d like to take a look myself.”
“Deal,” I said, and couldn’t keep the relief from my voice.
“It vill take some time,” she warned. “Zere are defenses on zee book. I’ll have to make inroads wiz zee varding.”
“Warding?”
My brows drew together as I stared down at the book.
I hadn’t felt an enchantment of any kind on it.
I’d touched things that were bespelled before, and there was usually a tell-tale tingle.
But this book had just felt... warm. Safe.
Inviting. I’d practically tucked the thing under my arm and taken it to bed with me when I was through staring at the pages.
“There’s warding on it?”
In reply, Olga ran a finger over the spine. Wherever her skin made contact with the book, a small, barely perceptible sigil lit up, pulsing white before letting off a soft pop of static electricity.
“Zat is one of zee more minor ones,” Olga said mildly, nodding as she looked back up at me. “If I tried to open zee front cover, I fear zee consequences vould be more dire.”
“But...” I started, swallowing thickly. “I was able to open it,” I explained, not understanding why she couldn’t. “I mean, I skimmed most of the pages if only to look at the pictures.”
Then I reached over to prove my point. And I was able to open the book immediately, but the second I pulled my hand away, the book slammed itself shut, causing Olga’s eyes to go wide and mine to narrow with confusion.
“Hmm,” Olga said. “Zat is interesting. Perhaps zee magic recognizes you as zee heir to some arcane lineage? You are not zee first alchemist in your line, correct?”
“Second. I’m the second,” I said quietly. “As far as I know.”
But that was the rub. I thought I’d known every Morton family secret there was to know.
As it turned out, I’d barely scratched the surface of what my family had gotten up to in the intervening centuries between a supposed ancestor and my birth.
Alchemists with witch companions. Deadbeat magicians.
Untapped magics that had come to bite me on the ass.
All of it had slipped unnoticed under my nose for years.
“Zen it is entirely possible zat it is yours by birthright. Or at zee very least, zat zee book tolerates you because you are an alchemist in need. Not all books are inert. Zere is a spark in zis one. It recognizes zat I am not its true bearer. Zat is why it slammed shut ven you removed your hand. Maybe zee book chose you.”
I paused for a beat to consider that. It wasn’t a totally absurd notion.
Ouire had sought Finn out, not the other way around.
The Alchemy for Dummies book wasn’t exactly wagging its bookmark or flashing its pages at me, but there was a sense of…
familiarity to it. That warmth I’d noticed earlier.
Could it be that someone had sold this book to Smith—someone from my own lineage?
Maybe he’d unknowingly returned something to me that he’d purchased from my family years ago?
Or maybe he’d picked it up second-hand and it just so happened to have belonged to a Morton?
The thought was comforting in a way. Like I was continuing a legacy, not embarking on a fool’s mission by learning alchemy.
Of course, I could be completely wrong on both counts and just imagining that the book had warmed up to me?
But then—how did I explain the fact that I could open it and Olga clearly couldn’t?
I lifted the book gingerly from the table, waiting for a static shock to leap out and sting my fingertips. The book remained inert, looking for all the world like the ancient occult text it was. I held my breath as I flipped the cover open. Nothing happened.
I opened the front cover to the introduction page, being sure to keep my fingers on the page so Olga could take photos of each page before I closed it again. There were easily ten pages in the forward. It would be enough to keep her busy for now.
“Thank you so much for helping me with this, Olga,” I enthused. “It means a lot to me.”
“Ve’re sisters in zis coven,” Olga said, offering me a kind smile. “You are our blood now, Poppy. Ve have an obligation to protect each ozer, even from ourselves.”
I guess her second sight hadn’t prepared her for when I stood up and threw my arms around her in a tight hug. She let out a startled sound, which wasn’t that surprising considering witches weren’t the warm and cuddly sorts.
“Still, I want to thank you, Olga,” I said, finally dropping my arms and taking a step back so she could breathe normally again. “This feels like the beginning of something good.”
“I certainly hope you’re right, dear.”