Page 64 of Summer L.A.W.

17

The mansion had gone still. Dinner was over, the laughter had faded, and the truth mist had long since dissolved into harmless glitter somewhere in the air ducts.

Back in the greenhouse, the night was soft and silver. Moonlight filtered through the glass panes, catching the shimmer of scattered herbs and empty beakers. The faint scent of rosehips lingered under the sharper tang of scorched thyme.

Magda crouched by a bench, carefully plucking singed leaves from a tray of basil. “You know,” she said, voice low, “next time I try a vapor-based potion, remind me to close the vents.”

Sebastian looked up from his laptop, where his fingers danced across the keys with the weary determination of a man processing chaos into data. “Already noted under ‘environmental variables.’ Along with ‘unanticipated mass honesty event.’”

She snorted. “Sounds like a bureaucratic way of saying oops.”

“Oops, doesn’t hold up well in peer review.”

He finished typing and stretched. His back cracked. “You realize, of course, that what happened tonight defies every known model of chemical behavior.”

“Good,” she said. “Maybe the universe needed a little chaos.”

He considered that, tapping his pen against his notebook. “The universe’s chaos I can handle. Spontaneous confessions, less so.”

She smirked. “Still embarrassed?”

He adjusted his glasses, which was as close as he came to admitting yes. “Let’s just say, as data points go, that one was… uncomfortable.”

Magda grinned and turned another leaf over. “For what it’s worth, I thought your confession was very interesting.”

He glanced up sharply, then relaxed when he saw her teasing expression. “Well, you did say the potion encourages honesty.”

“Mm-hmm. But I’m pretty sure the potion didn’t make you blush.”

Sebastian ducked his head. “I was under the influence of airborne particulates.”

She laughed softly. “Sure, let’s call it that.”

For a while, they worked in companionable silence. The cauldron sat cool and empty between them. A candle guttered low, its wax pooling like melted gold.

Finally, Sebastian broke the quiet. “You know,” he said slowly, “I used to think magic was just a metaphor. A colorful language for things science hadn’t explained yet.”

“And now?”

He hesitated. His eyes stayed on his notes. “Now I think maybe the two aren’t enemies. Just different dialects.”

Magda smiled, tracing a finger through a streak of spilled glitter on the tabletop. “Exactly. You measure; I intuit. You predict; I provoke. Same goal, different experiments.”

He looked at her then, really looked, and something softened in his face. “I think your worldview is unexpectedly coherent.”

“Careful,” she said, lips curving. “You’re starting to sound like a believer.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

She stood, brushing soil from her hands. “Still, I appreciate your help. Most people would’ve run screaming after the first glitter explosion.”

Sebastian shut his laptop with a decisive click. “You don’t need my help, Magda.”

That caught her off guard. “Oh?”

He leaned back in his chair, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. “You just need better lab ventilation.”