Page 18 of A Most Abhorrent Vessel

After slipping on my laboratory coat, I fetch the book and let it open at random.

Potio ad colorem mutandum.

The instructions read as follows: cold potion, no heat required. Mix three parts of woad, one pinch of Rubia tinctorum, then push together with fresh piglet lard through a fine cloth. Once incorporated, add freshly ground Carabus auratus. Ingest in one swallow.

I follow the instructions as best as I can, making a blue and red mess on the surface of the table. I have little hope of finding a cure in this strange book, but after spending the day at Nicodemus’ place, I know this is my last chance.

The moment I add the beetle, the mixture turns into a liquid golden hue. It’s mesmerising to look at.

I don’t want to ingest this so-called potion, no matter how many swallows I’m allowed. I have not eaten animals in two decades and have no desire to do so ever again. But my hands—

A look at my hands stops my hesitation. If the potion is for changing colour, perhaps this change can transfer to my skin. After all, a golden hue isn’t so far removed from my colouring after a holiday by the sea.

The mixture is as tasteless as Geneva’s pudding. The texture sliding down my throat is greasy and unpleasant. I don’t move, waiting expectantly for several minutes.

I watch the skin on my hands intently, then open my shirt to see if there’s any change to the colour of my chest.

Nothing happens.

I continue to wait.

Still nothing.

I shut the book with a thud, stand up, then run a hand over my face. It was foolish of me to believe in this so-called science. But what else could I do? I have nothing more.

I growl in frustration, refusing to give up just yet. Pacing my room does nothing to give me new ideas. I look out the window, but the cheerful chirping of the birds irritates me, so I go to my bathroom to get the silence that I crave.

I shut the door harder than is proper, then stop in my tracks.

Something is not as it should be.

I rush to the mirror and stare at myself. My once ashen brown hair has turned to a vivid shade of green.

I tug at a strand, run my fingers through the lengths. It ruffles. It curls. But it remains green.

This will not do. It will call so much attention. How could I possibly explain such a thing?

Suddenly, a realisation appears. I start to laugh. What a fool I was.

The potion worked!

Filled with renewed hope, I begin working on the next potion. Only this time, I take care to flip through the pages, trying to find something most suitable for my ailment.

Revelare occultum catches my interest. Compared to the previous potion, this one contains several unsavoury ingredients.

A hangman’s saliva. Ground kidney stones. Fevered breath.

As instructed, I boil the glowing liquid for exactly seven minutes, and when the time has passed, it turns translucent. Interesting.

The ingestion is different than the other. I’m to add one single drop to every orifice with a dragonfly’s wing, and the rest is to be drunk while turning counter-clockwise. I feel silly but follow every direction exactly as written.

I observe my hands carefully.

This one will cure my ailment. Please. Cure me.

Nothing happens. Then, a cramp.

I gasp, holding onto myself, but it passes as quickly as it arrived.