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Nadine looks at me like I’ve got three heads. “Why would you help me?”
“Because you’re a sister witch in need. Why wouldn’t I help you?”
“Um…thanks.”
“Not a problem. Good luck.” I hand her the little jar and hurry back to my station. Elder Edith is staring at me, looking stern. “There are no rules against sharing ingredients and helping one another, are there?”
The woman shakes her head. “No, child.”
Good. Okay. I thought for a moment I might’ve disqualified myself.
Turning back to my note cards, I steady my racing heart. The smell of singed ingredients lingers unpleasantly in the air, but a quick flick of my hand brings a whoosh of blooms from the surrounding gardens.
“All right. Where were we?” Placing my cards to the side, I close my eyes. “Mother Gaia, if it be your will, guide my hands in the making of this potion.”
“The hour is up, ladies. Hands up and step back from your stations. It’s time to present your potions.” Elder Francine’s voice is firm, carrying across the courtyard.
The five crones stand and move as one to the first workstation. “Cecile, what have you made for us, dear?”
Cecile is a woman about my age. She looks nervous, her hands shaking as she steps forward. “My potion is intended for enhancing memory retention and should last for about three hours.”
She pours a sample for the judges. The liquid is clear, only a faint blue tint swirling occasionally. It’s simple—too simple maybe.
Elder Francine takes a sip, her face betraying no emotion. “Thank you, Cecile.”
Several of the other elders speak quietly to one another and a blonde woman among them scribbles something on her clipboard.
The lack of reaction from the judges sends a ripple of anxiety through me. If they are this hard to impress, what will they think of my potion?
I glance at my workstation. The ingredients I used are laid out meticulously, my recipe noted on the back of one of my other recipe cards.
Maybe I should’ve stuck with one of the three I practiced. Too late now. I asked for divine guidance, and I trust Gaia’s judgment.
I wipe my hands on my apron to calm the jitters. As Elder Francine moves the group toward Summer’s workstation, I take a deep breath.
I’ll be next. I need to be ready to present the culmination of my efforts.
The elders gather around Summer’s station and Francine smiles. “Summer, tell us what you’ve brewed today, what its intended effects are, and how long those effects last.”
“I call it Nightfang Brew. A person who drinks this will have the stamina and heightened senses of a werewolf and the strength and speed of a vampire. It will last for an hour—unless you double the hair of werewolf and vampire venom, then the effects will last two hours.”
There’s a buzz among the elders, and Edith’s grin widens. “Very impressive. Let’s see if it does what you say.”
Francine takes the clipboard from the blonde witch and gestures to the foaming chalice. Without pause, she takes the cup in both hands and lifts it to her mouth. It smells rank by her grimace, but she tips it back and gulps a long drink.
Muddy brown liquid sloshes over the rim of the chalice as the blonde chokes. It looks like she might throw up, but then she throws her head back with a scream that makes me flinch.
Her eyes flip fully black, and her fingers curl into wicked-looking claws big enough to be a werewolf’s paw.
“How do you feel?” Francine asks.
“Powerful.” She lifts the chalice in her clawed hand and squeezes. The metal crumples under her potion-powered strength.
The elders are obviously impressed.
“Well done, Summer,” Francine says.
Summer must interpret the praise as an invitation because she steps forward like she’s on a stage and raises a hand toward the crowd above. “Witches—both Sun and Moon—have been afraid for too long. If I’m the next one honored with the position of High Priestess of New Orleans, no one in the coven will feel powerless against the vampires or the werewolves again. We need to remember who we were—who we are. We aren’t Sun Witches and Moon Witches. We are a single sisterhood united under Mother Gaia.”
