Page 57 of Summer L.A.W.

“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?”