Page 56 of Summer L.A.W.

“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.