Witchy Sour (The Magic & Mixology Mystery Series Book 2) (21 page)

“You’re like him.”

“Who?”

“The last Mixologist,” she said. “He was a good man.”

“The fill-in? The guy who worked here for the last two years?”

Her eyebrows knitted in thought. “No, the one before. The real deal.”

“You knew my grandfather,” I said, sucking in a breath. “What was he like?”

“Kind. Respectful. If he wanted to rule The Forest, we would have let him. He didn’t want to, and that’s exactly why he would’ve been the best for the job,” she said, sighing with dismay. “We miss him, but we don’t have time to talk now. Darkness is on the horizon, and you don’t want to be caught out here at night.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid, lady, but it would be pretty stupid of you to stay here.”

“Then how do we do this?”

After some careful consideration and a long period of deliberation, the fairy nodded and led me back toward the tree. Very carefully, she demonstrated how to harvest the Dust of the Devil. It was simple really, but it’d be impossible to guess the process without a teacher. After she’d shown me three times on three different blossoms, she nodded for me to try on my own.

With a gentle touch and the bending of leaves in a certain pattern, I was able to extract the dust from the very center of the flower without injuring myself on the first try. I took just a little from three or four different flowers—enough to last me a month, according to the fairy. If all went well, I could take a bit more next time.

“This is incredible.” Glancing down into my open palm, I let my eyes rest on the powder lying there. Red mixed with black in a shiny substance that looked like diamonds shattered to the consistency of fine sugar. My eyes locked hard and wouldn’t let go. “This is magic.”

“Put it in here.” Sharply, the fairy directed my attention to a small container that looked like it’d formerly been an acorn. “Don’t look at it for the entire walk back. When you do use it, use only the tiniest pinch at first. Close the container right away, or it’ll suck you in and drive you mad.”

I dusted the powder from my palm into the container and snapped it shut. “Thank you for your help, Miss…”

“Ferrah,” she said. “Got the name from my momma.”

“It’s lovely. Thank you for letting me have a glimpse of the Devil’s Dust.”

“Think of it like the sea,” she called as I turned to leave. “You need to respect it, study it, and be prepared for the worst. Even a stormy sea can capture the best of sailors.”

“But the best of sailors know when not to go out onto the sea.”

Ferrah saluted me. “You’re ready, Mixologist. Thank you for your services.”

Chapter 21

I was still glowing thirty minutes later from the fairy’s compliments and the success of a completed mission. I was proud that I hadn’t had to lean on Gus, or really involve him in the slightest. A bit of independence put a nice spring in my step. I whistled a low tune as The Forest grew steadily darker. If I was remembering correctly, I should be at the bridge in a minute or two.

However, a minute or two stretched into ten or twenty, and the darkness set in hard and fast. There was nothing subtle about night within The Forest’s walls. The blackness smothered everything inside of the branches and opened up the door for creatures of the night.

The happy glow from the success of safely gathering the Dust of the Devil faded rapidly as I stumbled further into the darkness. The light at the end of the tunnel should have appeared by now. Normal watches didn’t work on The Isle, but according to my inner clock I should have been halfway across the bridge and well on my way home. Even worse, none of my surroundings looked familiar.

Liam’s words floated through my head: Have a goal when entering The Forest.

My heart sank. As I’d been floating on cloud nine and whistling my way back, I’d forgotten the most integral part of this entire trip. To remember why I’d come. I swore quietly, kicking myself for my forgetfulness. Now, the success of navigating The Forest alone, solving the riddle, and befriending a fairy was all overshadowed by one large, looming problem: None of it mattered if I couldn’t find my way out.

A bird trilled in the distance, jolting me to attention. Hidden beings lurked behind every corner, and I realized with startling clarity that I had no way to differentiate between the deadly and the friendly. If it weren’t for the fairy’s generosity, I might already be dead.

Slowing my walk, I came to a standstill in the middle of a small clearing, the patch of clear grass surrounded by trees. Underbrush snaked out from the edges of the darkness, their tangled masses snarling over the grassy forest floor. I held my breath and listened.

At first, there were no sounds except for the whoosh of leaves brushing against one another, peppered with the staccato snap of twigs in the distance as creatures prowled outside of my line of sight. A dull thwacking repeated itself over and over again, nearly driving me insane until I found the source just on the outskirts of the clearing—a branch knocking against its tree trunk.

My shoulders relaxed for a moment as I watched the branch in its rhythmic song, relieved that the sound wasn’t coming from something alive. However, my spine stiffened as something beyond the edge of the clearing caught my attention. I took a few steps closer.

As I reached the edge of the grassy patch, the object that’d caught my eye shone brighter. Except it wasn’t an object per say, but the subtle glow of light. Squinting, I couldn’t make out anything except for a dull, bluish aura—like that of a lava lamp. It neither illuminated The Forest nor provided a clear path. It merely existed.

Like a moth to a flame, I took a hesitant step outside of the clearing. My gut told me to turn back, since this could easily be a trap of some sort to draw me out of the open space and into the gnarly depths of the trees. But the fact of the matter was that I was utterly, completely lost.

If I didn’t find a way out of here soon, I had no doubt that this night would be a tough one. At best, I’d survive a night in The Forest, curled up in a ball and terrified out of my mind. At worst, I wouldn’t see morning. My only chance was to find help, and to find help, I needed to follow the light.

I stopped every few feet to listen, but there were no sounds at all now. It was quiet, too quiet. Another step brought me right up to the edge of a small island circled by a tiny babbling brook. It wasn’t an island in the traditional sense. Instead, it reminded me of a castle surrounded by a moat. This moat sparkled, however, glistening with the subtle shimmer of magic.

Someone—a wizard—had been here. It might have been days, or weeks, or even months—but not longer than that. The sizzle of magic was fresh enough in the air that this spell couldn’t be over a few months old. After a time, even the strongest of spells dimmed, and this one was still going strong.

I reached out a hand, tentatively feeling for any barrier or trigger, but there was nothing. My hand passed easily over the space above the water without ill effect. The temperature was much cooler. Cool enough that the skin on my arm broke out with goose bumps. When I retracted it to my side, it returned to normal.

The island in the middle of the water was small, about the same size as the clearing I’d just left. However, a thick fog shrouded the moat and prevented me from seeing past the water. It was from the center of the fog that the blue glowed brightest. I’d have to cross the stream to see what lay inside.

My gut told me to walk away, but my mind said differently. I wanted to step over the moat and into the fog, to find whatever was causing the light to glow blue. There was a chance I wouldn’t make it, but…

I jumped over the fog and cleared the stream without much effort. I landed on the island, my body passing through the outer layer of fog and freezing my skin for one flash of time. When I landed on the ground in a crouched position, my hands up in a kung fu stance, all was quiet.

My skin returned to normal temperature, and the fog had all but disappeared. It’d moved to the outskirts of the small island once more. Instead of giving off a sense of foreboding, it now felt like a protective outer layer. Turning my gaze inward, I inhaled a deep breath. I’d discovered the source of the blue light.

I’d also found
The Magic of Mixology
.

Chapter 22

My heart raced as I rushed forward to scoop up my lifeline to the Mixology world. Just before my fingers touched the cover of the book, however, I paused and surveyed the surroundings. The grass here was lighter, a dulled, pale green compared to the rest of The Forest. Golden letters glinted up from the cover of the book, the words
The Magic of Mixology
spelled out in gorgeous penmanship. It’d been weeks since the spellbook had been taken from me—weeks filled with stress and unanswered questions. My hope of ever finding the book had been rapidly fading.

But now it lay before me. Perfectly intact and relatively untouched, the cover was closed, though a leaf poking out from the top of the pages made me think someone had flipped through it recently and saved a spell with nature’s bookmark. I wanted to pick it up, hold it close to my chest and never let go, but I was too wary of a booby trap. There was magic nearby, I could feel it.

“What are you doing here?” I whispered aloud. “Who took you from me?”

I forced my eyes away from the spellbook and focused on the rest of the small island. On the far side, a few steps past the book, sat a small jar the size of Pooh Bear’s honey pot. Underneath it, a small blue fire crackled, which was the source of the glow I’d seen from a distance.

Peeking into the miniature cauldron, I held my breath as a purple-blue liquid frothed and bubbled inside. A small ray of steam twirled up from the surface, and I took a step back, hesitant to inhale unknown fumes that were likely brewed by a thief.

I quickly scanned the rest of the grassy knoll, but there wasn’t anything else out of place. A few sticks littered the ground while rocks the size of my fist created an embankment of sorts down to the bubbling brook. All of it appeared to be native to The Forest.

Returning to the book, I cautiously flipped the pages open to the leaf-marked spot. When nothing happened immediately, I scooched closer and read over the page, holding my breath until I reached the very end.

“That is not good,” I said to myself. “Not good at all…”

Most of the words in this book had been carefully scripted in ink made from gold. The thin, twirly words had a timeless feel that easily had me believing they’d been written centuries ago by the original Mixologist. However on this page, the spell was handwritten in what looked like plain black ink. The writing was neat, drawn with the thick-to-thin swirls of a calligraphy pen and the smooth flow of a steady hand. Even so, it was new. So new that the page was devoid of normal wear and tear.

It wasn’t the newness of the spell, or the lack of wear and tear on the page. The name of the spell is what gave me pause: Vitamins for Vampires.

After inspecting the list of ingredients, there was no doubt in my mind that this was the potion that’d been created for Poppy. At the very bottom of the list sat the mystery ingredient I had in my pocket. Dust of the Devil had been highlighted and circled with a red pen, and in the margins of the spell someone had written a note.

Swap for Hog’s Vein.

The writing was different from that on the rest of the page. Likely, a new hand had recently penned this note, judging by the unfaded coloring.
Swap Hog’s Vein
? This could easily be Gus’s writing, but it also could belong to a chicken. The note had been scratched out and the handwriting was difficult to read. Gus normally wrote with painstaking clarity on the permanent labels, but I’d seen him jot down notes here and there for himself, and those resembled the handwriting of all men in the world—chicken scratch.

I sat back and crossed my legs, reading over the spell a few more times before letting my mind drift off into space. I stared at nothing in particular, running through a list of potential reasons the spellbook had ended up in The Forest. Why had the thief set up shop here? Sure it was secluded, but there had to be safer places to brew a potion. As for the Vamp Vites—that wasn’t a particularly harmful mixture. The worst it’d do is upset a non-vamp’s stomach for a few minutes. It was hardly dangerous, and it certainly wasn’t deadly according to Gus.

Thinking of my mentor—who was back in the real world—made me remember that I was stuck in The Forest with no way out. I needed to get back. I scooped up
The Magic of Mixology
in my arms and gave one last look at the cauldron. From the pictures in the spellbook, this potion was a halfway-brewed vitamin for Poppy. According to the description, the potion bubbled blue and simmered purple. It wasn’t until the Dust of the Devil was added that the potion assumed it’s final, blood-red shade.

I’d leave the potion for now. If I found my way out of The Forest, Ranger X and I could come back. I wouldn’t remember the directions, but he might be able to find the way. The first priority was to get out of here. The second was to talk to Ranger X, which was necessary to accomplish the third point: Find Gus.

Liam’s words danced in my head once more as I leapt across the small stream around the teensy island. The flash of cold bit at my skin, but it was gone before I could shiver.
Have a goal
, my brain told me over and over again. I focused on the vision of the Upper Bridge, of talking to Ranger X and of weaving my way through The Forest with ease.

After a few hesitant steps, I found myself gaining confidence and picking up the pace. I couldn’t have written directions on paper or explained them to a friend. But somehow, I knew the way out.

Whether it came from inside of me or from The Forest itself, I couldn’t say. One step after another drew me in a curvy path, twisting and turning through the trees. The breeze acted as a whisper in my ear, guiding me away from the heart of the darkness.