Chapter 15
By morning, the scent of romance had spread to the breakfast table. The witches gathered in the dining room, mugs steaming and plates piled high. Magda sat demurely, radiating smug serenity. That lasted all of eight seconds, until her teapot floated past her head.
Rayna blinked. “Um. Did the caffeine just achieve liftoff?”
The teapot turned gracefully midair, pouring itself into her cup. Around them, plates, forks, and muffins drifted upward in slow, graceful spirals. Rayna’s sword, leaning in the corner, rose too, spinning lazily like a weathervane.
Joell didn’t even look up from buttering her toast. “Is this your idea of brunch entertainment?”
Magda flushed. “Minor side effect. I may have over-aerated the binding portion.”
“Minor?” Rayna ducked as a rogue biscuit zoomed by.
Wally hopped onto the table, trying to corral the floating food. He managed to pouch a muffin midair, earning a smattering of applause from Brianna.
“Okay,” Joell said, pointing her butter knife like a gavel. “What exactly did you do, and should we be signing waivers?”
Magda folded her hands in her lap. “It’s nothing serious. A little experiment. I was only testing a formula for—”
“For love,” Brianna finished brightly. “She told me last night after the critique group. Said she was inspired by all of us writing our happily-ever-afters and figured, why wait for one when she can brew one?”
“Brianna!” Magda hissed, face flaming.
But it was too late. Rayna’s grin could’ve lit the chandelier. “So, this is personal research? Excellent. Maybe next time start with decaf instead of dark magic.”
Joell leaned her chin on her hand. “If it works, you could bottle it. Love Potion No. 9.99 plus tax. We’d fund the next disaster’s repairs in a week.”
“Can we not commercialize my romantic despair?” Magda muttered.
Chad entered just in time to duck a levitating spoon. “Morning, ladies. Why does the room look like a Mary Poppins remake?”
“We’re defying gravity and health codes,” Joell said dryly. “Magda’s new venture.”
Chad blinked at the airborne muffins, then at Magda. “Please tell me this is at least FDA-adjacent.”
She tried for dignity. “It’s perfectly safe. The greenhouse loved it.”
“The greenhouse?” Chad echoed.
“Plants are very responsive to emotional energy,” Magda insisted.
Wally squeaked, apparently seconding the motion.
By the time the muffins finally drifted back to earth, the dining room looked like a bakery had exploded.
Joell had a croissant in her hair. Rayna’s sword was embedded point-first in the ceiling.
And Magda was pretending not to notice that her teapot had developed stage fright and refused to come down.
Chad started sweeping crumbs into a dustpan while Wally stuffed the survivors into his pouch. “Next time,” he said, “maybe test your experiments outside the mansion.”
Magda bent to retrieve a spoon from under the table. “It wasn’t supposed to affect people outside the greenhouse. Or muffins.”
He arched a brow. “Then what was it supposed to affect?”
She hesitated, cheeks warming again. “My plants. I was testing their feelings and emotions. The kind of… buoyancy that comes from love.”
Chad looked up from the mess. “Buoyancy?”
She sighed, giving up the last shred of dignity. “During critique night, Brianna read one of her love scenes. She described the heroine as floating in bliss. I may have borrowed that phrasing when I worded the spell.”
Realization dawned on his face. “So, when you told the universe you wanted to recreate the feeling of floating—”
“My words were taken literally.”
Chad’s lips twitched, fighting a smile. “Magda, you don’t need magic to make someone feel lightheaded around you.”
She froze, not sure if he was teasing or sincere. “Is that a compliment or a warning?”
“Both,” he said, dumping the broom back in the closet. Chad rubbed his temples. “We need adult supervision. I’m calling in backup.”
“From whom?” Joell asked.
“My old colleague from the university, Dr. Sebastian Voss. He’s a biochemist who moonlights by debunking pseudoscience.”
Rayna snorted. “So, the perfect man to tell us we don’t exist.”
“He doesn’t believe in magic,” Chad admitted, scrolling through his phone, “but he’s open-minded enough to admit when he’s wrong.”
“Perfect,” Joell said. “Send the nerd.”
Magda crossed her arms, trying to look indifferent, then her teapot dropped to the floor and shattered. “Fine. But if he tries to sterilize my flasks, I’m hexing his coffee.”
The breakfast continued under zero-gravity conditions, with Joell sipping tea after her spoon stopped orbiting her head. By the time Chad’s call with his nerd-friend ended, the muffins had formed a lazy constellation above them.
Magda sighed. “Well, Wally. I suppose we’re in this together now.”
He gnawed his floating biscuit and nodded solemnly.
“I’m scheduling Dr. Voss before you make the whole mansion orbit the moon,” Chad said.
She exhaled through her nose. “Fine. I’ll prepare the greenhouse for guests.”
Wally sneezed, releasing another puff of glitter.
Chad grinned. “Maybe also invest in a hazmat suit.”
That evening, the greenhouse gleamed under lantern light. Magda swept away stray petals, rearranged jars, and muttered to her plants like an anxious hostess.
“Be on your best behavior tonight,” she warned. “No spontaneous mating displays, no matter how tempted you may be.”
Wally snorted from his perch.
She caught her reflection in a glass pot. Her hair looked wild, her robe was streaked with pollen, and a smear of glitter still clung to her cheek. “Wonderful. I look like a deranged fairy godmother.”
Her stomach fluttered with nerves. What kind of man volunteered to analyze love potions? And why did she care what he thought?
Her phone buzzed. A text from Chad: He’s on his way. Try not to hex the professor.
Magda rolled her eyes. “No promises.”
Outside, headlights swept across the greenhouse glass. Wally’s ears twitched.
Magda drew a deep breath, smoothing her robe. “Brace yourself, buddy. Science is coming.”
A car door slammed somewhere out front. The sound echoed up the long driveway, followed by brisk footsteps and the faint crunch of gravel.
Magda hesitated at the conservatory door, then grabbed her wand, just in case the scientist turned out to be one of those men who thought “consultation” meant “mansplaining.”
Wally bounded after her. “You stay here,” she told him. “We don’t need another sparkle incident.”
He blinked at her, trying to communicate sadness.
Magda muttered, “Fine, but keep your pouch closed. No pickpocketing.”
She stepped toward the mansion’s front entrance. The porch light clicked on, and the doorbell chimed politely, for a house that teleported between states. Chad must have asked Brianna to disable the wards for the good professor’s arrival.
Magda opened the door and froze.
The man on the step looked like he’d walked straight out of a faculty brochure.
He was tall, mid-thirties, with dark blond hair neatly combed, wire-rimmed glasses that practically shouted I correct people for fun.
He wore a crisp navy blazer and gripped a leather satchel like it contained priceless instruments or the answers to the universe.
“Dr. Sebastian Voss,” he said, extending a hand. “You must be Dr. Bloomer.”
Magda stared at the offered handshake for a beat too long, realizing her own hands were still dusted with pollen and glitter. “Magda will do. The title ‘Doctor’ implies student loans.”
He blinked, as though recalibrating. “Chad said you’d had an incident with… levitating food?”
“Define incident,” she said sweetly.
Voss glanced past her into the foyer, like he was already debunking the décor.
She crossed her arms. “I should warn you, the last man who came into this house uninvited left as a frog.”
His brow lifted. “And yet, I’m still here.”
“Brave or foolish, we’ll see which.”
He smiled faintly, and the expression made him look less like a disbeliever and more like a man trying not to admit he was intrigued. “May I see the laboratory?”
“Greenhouse,” she corrected. “Not lab. My experiments grow.”
“Excellent. Fungal samples, then?”
“Only if you count toe jam,” she said, turning on her heel. “Come along, Professor Buzzkill.”
He followed, his footsteps echoing across the marble floor. “Actually, it’s Doctor Buzzkill.”
“Of course it is.”
They passed the dining room, still glittering with evidence of the morning’s disaster. A muffin floated lazily by, defying both time and gravity.
Voss stopped. “Is that pastry propulsion?”
“Residual enchantment,” Magda said briskly. “Ignore it, and it’ll lose interest.”
“I’m not sure that’s how physics works.”
“I’m not sure physics applies in this home,” she countered.
By the time they reached the greenhouse, he’d produced a small notebook and began filling it with observations. She held the door for him, and a puff of jasmine on a shaft of moonlight spilled out. The vines glowed faintly, still entwined in affectionate shapes.
Voss stopped short. “You grow bioluminescent flora?”
Magda arched an eyebrow. “I inspire them.”
He adjusted his glasses, scanning the scene like he was trying to debunk it by sheer willpower. “You said you were developing a compound affecting emotional resonance?”
“That’s one way to put it.”
“And what was your control sample?”
“My what?”
“The non-enchanted version. For comparison.”
She folded her arms. “You want me to make a boring batch? What’s next? Pasteurizing the pixie dust?”
He made a note. “I take it that’s not a metaphor.”
Magda circled him slowly, amused by his discomfort. “Tell me, Doctor, do you always bring skepticism to a coven’s doorstep, or is this a special field trip?”
He gave her a look that could sterilize glassware. “I’m here because Chad seems convinced your— hobby has destabilized basic natural law. I specialize in explaining such claims.”
Magda let the word ‘hobby’ go. He’d see the error of his ways in time. “And do you have a good explanation ready?”
“Not yet,” he admitted. “But I’m confident one exists.”
“Adorable,” she said.
Voss ignored the jab, pulling a small sensor from his bag. “If I could take a few readings—”
The moment he switched it on, every heart-shaped vine in the room turned to face him.
He froze. “Is it supposed to do that?”
Magda smirked. “Oh yes. They like skeptics. It’s like catnip for those who enjoy a challenge.”
Wally hopped out from under a table and landed on the scientist’s shoe. Voss startled, nearly dropping his instrument.
“What is that?”
“My familiar. He’s harmless unless provoked. Or hungry.”
Wally sniffed the satchel.
Magda tapped her chin. “He’s probably both, actually.”
Voss straightened, reclaiming his composure. “I’d appreciate it if we could maintain a professional environment.”
“Then you shouldn’t have brought snacks in your bag.”
He exhaled through his nose, clearly recalculating his evening’s choices. “All right, Ms. Bloomer. Suppose, for the sake of argument, that what I’m seeing isn’t an elaborate prank. What exactly is your goal with these… experiments?”
Magda considered that. “To bottle the essence of affection. Not lust, not obsession. Just the quiet, steady warmth that makes people care about each other.”
He regarded her in silence, the kind of silence that came from a man used to equations, not confessions. “That’s remarkably admirable.”
“I’m remarkably lonely,” she said before she could stop herself. Then she straightened her shoulders. “But mostly, it’s academic curiosity. In other words, I want to see if I can do it.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Of course.”
“Don’t patronize me, Doctor.”
“Not at all. I’m simply wondering whether your affection field could be quantified.”
She narrowed her eyes. “If you try to measure love with math, I will see how you like chasing after muffins in zero gravity.”
He gave a short, genuine laugh, then quickly smothered it, but it had happened. “Duly noted.”
For a heartbeat, the air between them softened. Then a vine crept down from above and looped itself gently around his wrist. He glanced at it, startled, as the glowing tendril pulsed once, then released him.
He looked back at her. “It reacted to me.”
Magda tilted her head. “Don’t take it personally. It reacts to those who need a cuddle. Not Chad, though.”
“Why not him?”
“Because he has Brianna for that.”
Wally chirped approvingly, as if punctuating her point.
Sebastian’s analytical mask slipped for a second, long enough for curiosity to win. “May I come back tomorrow to observe under daylight?”
She pretended to think. “Fine. But bring coffee. The real kind, not whatever logical decaf you drink.”
He nodded once, professional again. “I’ll bring both. What about bringing my assistant?”
“Absolutely not. I don’t need more skeptics.”
As he turned to leave, Magda caught herself smiling, then scowled at the realization. She shooed the vines back into place.
“Don’t get ideas,” she told them. “He’s just here for data.”
The vines rustled, as if even they didn’t believe her.