Cauldrons and Cat Tails (Moonvale Matches #2)

13. Kizzi

CHAPTER 13

Kizzi

A s the first streams of rising sunlight peeked through the cracks in my windows, I groaned and yanked my pillow over my head.

I was not ready to face the day yet. My throat was sore, my eyes were puffy, and my head pounded with the beginnings of a day-ruining headache. I begged sleep to pull me back under, even if just for a moment. Anything to delay my day for a little longer.

Just as darkness began to close over me, I felt something brush the back of my calf. A whisper of a touch, barely anything at all. A pulse of magic zinged into my skin.

I froze, holding my breath.

A long moment passed. Two. I exhaled.

“You sprites better leave me alone. Fates. I’m still mad at you.” My voice was muffled through the pillow.

Nothing. The movement didn’t feel like a sprite, with their bright, delicate, barely-there magic…

Maybe I was imagining things again. It was probably just the blanket settling over me.

But… my feet felt cold in the open air. I wasn’t under the blanket…

I’m going to throw up . Right here, under this pillow.

I didn’t move a single muscle. My ears perked, straining to hear any sounds in the still, quiet morning. The only sound was my strangled breathing, scraping in and out of my chest.

I remained frozen for what felt like minutes. Hours. Eons. And then eventually, I heard a quiet rustling… coming from the sheets right beside me on the bed.

Fucking fuck .

My heart hammered in my chest, pounding so hard I was surprised it didn’t burst free. I mentally tallied my options.

One, I could keep laying here like a little bitch, pretending not to notice the other presence in the room even though I was clearly awake and had already blown my cover by speaking.

Two, I could whirl around and attack whatever beast was in bed with me with whatever spell I could muster and hope I was stronger than it was.

Three, I could cry and pray to the Old Gods that I might drop dead or something before having to face this problem.

Unfortunately, two was my best option.

Old Gods, if you can hear me, please burn my stash of smutty books if I die. Or at least don’t let Mayor Tommins find them.

I took a deep, quivering inhale.

And then I attacked .

I screamed as I flipped my body over, gripping my pillow like my life depended on it and absolutely walloping the bed beside me.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

I was prepared to inflict a death blow with my beloved pillow.

Feathers plumed in the air, billowing around me and settling onto the sheets.

I kept swinging.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

I couldn’t even think of any spells to save me, I simply swung the pillow like a weapon.

My voice crumbled beneath the screams I was forcing out, and eventually I quieted.

And then I stopped swinging.

My forehead glistened with sweat, and I could hardly hear over my pulse pounding in my ears. All I could see in the bed beside me was… nothing. Nothing except for a slight bulge under the covers.

Gathering any crumbs of courage I had left in me, I gripped the blanket and yanked it off the bed, immediately brandishing a pillow again to defend myself.

The blanket settled onto the floor with a quiet whoosh.

And then my heart stopped beating altogether.

I couldn’t believe my eyes.

Settled in the bed next to me, pummeled into an unrecognizable (and slightly lumpy) pulp… was the cauldron sludge, bright purple and alive .

I screamed bloody murder.

A ni’s cottage was much messier than my shop, full to the brim with magical items and ingredients. The curtains were pulled shut, letting in no natural light—the only illumination in the space came from enchanted lanterns. A brown striped cat napped peacefully on the fluffy rug.

Tiny dust motes floated in the air. They danced and fluttered idly, disturbed by my movements. The scent of lavender and warm magic permeated the space. It almost smelled like home.

I clutched a mug of rose and sage tea with trembling fingers, fighting to still my quaking as I slowly brought the drink to my lips. I managed a small sip without spilling any.

A jar sat on the table between me and the coven leader.

I tried not to look at it, but I couldn’t help myself. My eyes were drawn with a mind of their own.

The jar contained a small, roiling bit of the iridescent purple cauldron sludge, and I could tell that it was pissed . It hissed and snapped, splattering against the sides of the jar over and over again.

I was the one who deserved to be angry. After discovering the twitching, slimy mass curled up in bed beside me, I had done what any respectable lady would do.

I panicked.

I screamed, I cried, I screamed some more, then I threw up in the washroom. And then after shedding a few more tears, I grabbed a jar, blindly scooped up some of the sludge, and scrambled my way here: to my coven leader’s cottage—so she could tell me what to do.

The tea, though expertly brewed, hardly brought me any comfort. I couldn’t even appreciate the warm, floral flavor as it slid down my throat because I couldn’t stop staring at the damned jar.

Ani peered me with a calm but questioning gaze. She wasn’t nearly as panicked as she should have been while sitting in front of a magical monstrosity.

Her waist-length silver hair glimmered in the enchanted lighting of the cottage. She was swathed in a thick dressing gown, but her knobby feet were bare. She had clearly not been expecting visitors.

I exhaled a shaky breath. “Ani, I need help. What am I supposed to do?” I asked.

She glanced at the jar with only mild interest. “What do you mean, dear?”

“I mean—how do I get rid of it?”

She gently picked up the jar, rolling it between her gnarled hands and examining the contents with a knowing gaze. The sludge sloshed and crackled. “I’m afraid you can’t get rid of it, Kizziah.”

My eyes snapped to Ani’s lined face. “What? You’re joking. Yes, I can.”

Her expression held no humor, just a calm steadiness. “I’m afraid this isn’t a joke. It seems you’ve created yourself a familiar.”

My jaw dropped open.

No fucking way. It was impossible.

I knew what a familiar was, of course. Familiars were things of old witch legends. A critter or a creation, bound to a witch’s soul. A guardian, an assistant, a companion. A friend. It took immense magical power to create one, often requiring the assistance of an entire coven. Familiars assisted with spells and rituals, granting stability and control to their witches. They were extremely powerful—all the strongest witches had one.

Or so the legends said.

Witches hadn’t had familiars for ages—there wasn’t enough magic left to create them. Not since the Old Gods abandoned the realm.

Nope. Not possible.

I slowly shook my head back and forth. This was some elaborate prank, surely. The coven was messing with me.

I waited for the punchline to drop.

I took another sip of my tea, but it roiled like the tides in my stomach, so I set it aside.

Ani’s expression remained as steady as ever. There was no joke to be told.

I cleared my throat, fighting through the tension there. “A familiar?” I asked.

She nodded. “Yes. I can feel it. I haven’t felt this much raw magical power in ages.” Her gaze flicked to my face. “You didn’t do this on purpose?”

“No!” I exclaimed. And then I told her the story of the sludge’s creation.

She nodded knowingly the entire time, as though this entire situation made complete sense. It was infuriating, how calm she was.

“Heightened emotions can make our magic volatile,” she mused. “And those sprites have been following you since you were a wee little thing. I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“And you’re saying I can’t get rid of it?”

The old witch shook her head, placing the jar back on the table. “No.”

“Can I… destroy it?”

The sludge popped in the jar, lurching in my direction. I flinched.

Ani shook her head vehemently. “She didn’t mean that, Old Gods forgive her,” she murmured as she glanced upwards. She paled slightly. “This is your familiar . It is of your very soul . To destroy it would be to destroy a part of yourself.”

I sighed, dropping my head into my hands. So I was stuck with this nasty, sticky, gooey, ugly cauldron sludge. Forever.

Things couldn’t possibly get any worse.

“What am I supposed to do with it?” I mumbled toward the floor.

“Whatever you’d like, I imagine. Use it, ignore it, put it to work.” I heard her dressing gown rustle as she shrugged. “A witch’s familiar is a very powerful tool.”

“If you say so.” I reluctantly lifted my head, dreading the news I was about to deliver to Ani next. I took a deep, bolstering breath. “I haven’t told you the worst part, yet.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “And what would that be?”

I gulped. “The cauldron I accidentally brewed the sludge in… it was the giant cauldron you gave me.”

Ani waited expectantly.

“And… it cracked when Sludgey over there came to life.” I braced myself for her response, preparing to be scolded, slapped, or shouted at. The sludge gurgled noisily in the jar.

Ani inhaled deeply through her nose, held the air in, and then let it rush out of her mouth. Her breath rustled my hair, and I felt a delicate wisp of magic kiss my skin. She folded her hands in front of her with a white-knuckled grip.

She stayed like that for a few long moments before she spoke.

“You’re saying the cauldron is… broken?”

I nodded mutely.

“Moonvale’s largest cauldron. It’s unusable. Right before Hallow’s Eve?”

I nodded again, anxiously tucking my hands under my thighs.

Ani pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation. “This is not ideal, Kizziah.”

“I know.”

“We need that cauldron so the coven can perform all the necessary rituals. Smaller cauldrons just won’t do.”

“I know,” I repeated, quieter this time. Something about Ani’s regal presence always made me feel young and naive. Especially when she was unhappy.

She exhaled harshly before brushing her hands off and meeting my gaze. A glimmer of disappointment shone in her light brown eyes, but not anger. Never anger.

“It was an accident,” she murmured.

“It was,” I agreed. “I didn’t mean to.”

She nodded before she stood up and moved to sit beside me on the couch. She tossed a skinny arm around me and rubbed my shoulders soothingly. I slumped. “You didn’t mean to. And something amazing came out of it,” she said quietly.

I exhaled heavily. “I’ll fix it. Somehow.”

Ani shook her head slightly. “It’s not possible, dear. The creation of a familiar would have stripped the cauldron of its magical abilities.”

“Then I’ll find a new one,” I insisted. The plan solidified in my mind. I would travel, as far as it took, to find a new cauldron. I refused to ruin Hallow’s Eve for the coven.

“I don’t know where you will be able to find one,” she warned. “It’s been ages since I acquired that one, and it was a family heirloom. There is no telling where in Aldova will have a big enough cauldron.”

“Wherever it is, I’ll find it.” I declared. “I’ll find it.”

I allowed Ani to comfort me for a few moments longer before I extracted myself from her grasp and stood up. I tentatively grabbed the jar with Sludgey in it. The boiling mass stilled immediately.

“I’ll get out of your hair, then. Thank you, Ani.” I grasped the witch’s hand and squeezed briefly before stepping toward the door. “You’ve never steered me wrong.”

She nodded sagely, but a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “You have never needed much steering.”

I snorted out a laugh but accepted the compliment. That was a load of shit.

Before I could leave Ani’s cottage, another thought struck me.

The love potion.

My shoulders slumped and my ears drooped.

“Oh my, you just had a heavy thought. What is it?” Ani asked as she stood up from the couch.

“Something else happened,” I confessed.

“Something else, besides you breaking the largest cauldron in Moonvale?”

I nodded, biting my lip. “Something worse.”

“Worse?” Ani asked.

“I may have… drugged the entire town with a love potion.”

Ani stared at me blankly for a long time. “Is that a joke?”

I shook my head.

“Oh… dear. We’re going to have to call a coven meeting for this one.”

“ Y ou’re kidding,” Hyacinth blurted out with an astonished look on her face. The witch’s coal black eyebrows nearly reached her hairline. The whole coven portrayed varying levels of shock—from mild surprise to mouth-clutching awe.

I stood in front of them all, awkwardly clutching Sludgey’s jar in a sweaty grip. Luckily, everyone was too shocked to pay the jar much attention.

The coven sat in silence while I explained the tale of how the love potion came to be. And how it ended up inside the folk of Moonvale.

“Unfortunately, I am not,” I admitted.

“You drugged everyone? ” Another witch asked.

I coughed. “Well, everyone that tried my chili.”

“I was wondering why you looked so pretty today. Fates! I ate some of that!” Hyacinth groaned in exasperation.

I winced. “I’m sorry about that.”

“I did too!”

“Most of the town did. Everyone was so shocked that Kizzi brought something edible to the potluck this year that they just had to try it for themselves.” Hyacinth glanced at me abruptly. “No offense.”

I brushed that off. “None taken. I thought the same thing, honestly.”

“What do we do?” someone else asked.

I shrugged helplessly. “That’s what I came here to ask. Does anyone have any ideas?”

“Is there an antidote? A cure?”

“If there is, I don’t have any.” I glanced at Ani. She simply shrugged.

The coven leader drifted to a shelf on the wall, pulling out a massive, haggard grimoire, and began flipping through it.

“Maybe it will wear off on its own? Has anyone ever taken a love potion before?” I asked.

“Love potions are outlawed…” Hyacinth murmured.

I quirked a brow.

“Okay fine, I might have tried one before, but I screwed it up. I could never get it to work. Did yours work? Or do I just think you’re hot?”

“I think so…” I recounted the story of Linc, of Mayor Tommins, of the weird behavior I had been seeing.

“It sounds like it definitely works. Old Gods be damned!”

“Shh!” someone hissed. “Blasphemous!”

“Oh, whatever?—”

“I think I found something.” Ani’s voice broke through the discussion. She flipped the grimoire around, showing us the pages. “It says here, spells cast from strong potions can be broken by ingesting the powdered shell of a dragon egg. They’re extremely rare, and only ever spoken about in whispers. As I’m sure you know, dragons haven’t hatched since before the Old Gods left the realm.” She flipped the page. “In old times, dragon eggs only hatched in certain regions.”

“Where?” I asked.

“The belly of the mountain. Rockward, I would assume—that’s the farthest mountain town. Though, this many years later, they could be anywhere.”

I sighed. “Well, I guess I’m going to Rockward, too.”

“Too?” Hyacinth prodded.

I glanced at Ani for help.

“She’s buying a new cauldron,” the coven leader explained.

“A new cauldron! A big one? How are you going to carry that?”

I shrugged. “Does anyone want to come with me? I’m sure two witches can carry a large cauldron. Probably.”

“No way, those things weigh as much as five folk. Why don’t you ask Tandor? That orc has arms the size of tree trunks,” Hyacinth joked.

I tilted my head, considering. That actually wasn’t a bad idea. “Maybe I will.”