Dawn and Devilry

by S. Usher Evans

  Mora caught my gaze, and I swallowed hard. "Nicole, your magic is different from Marie's," I began slowly. "You can't summon a ball, but you can do—"

  "I want the ball!" Tears were now starting to fall as she made her way toward a full-blown tantrum.

  I rose from my seat and knelt beside her chair. "Nicole, listen. You are a unique and special little girl. The only Potion-maker in existence. And just because you can't levitate or summon doesn't mean you can't do other amazing things. You'll just have to do them a little bit differently."

  "But it's not fair."

  "I know, sweetheart." Mora knelt on the other side of her. "Sometimes life just…isn't really fair. But we have to make the best of what we've been given."

  "I-I w-want the b-b-ball," she said, thick tears dripping down her cheeks. "I w-w-want magic like Mommy and Daddy and Nene and Marie."

  Mora looked at me for help, and I swept Nicole into my arms, carrying her out of the kitchen while she cried.

  "Just because you're a little different doesn't mean you aren't perfect in every way," I said, rubbing her back. "You've got a power I haven't even begun to understand. I wish I had…I wish there was some way to get you to see how wonderful you are." I stopped by the window, spotting our neighbor's garden in the moonlight. "Do you remember when you told me the flowers were singing to you?"

  She nodded against my shoulder.

  "I don't hear the flowers singing," I said. "Mommy and Jeanie don't either. That's something only you can do." She peeled her head off my shoulder. "And Mommy and I love you exactly as you are. We love that you can hear flowers and love cartoons. We love you even when all you want is ketchup for dinner."

  She wiped her face clumsily, her bottom lip jutted out.

  "And I promise you that you will be the most powerful Potion-maker out there," Mora said, appearing in the living room. "Daddy's going to show you how to make all the potions, right?"

  "As soon as Mommy lets you near a cauldron," I said.

  "Can we make a potion now?" Nicole asked.

  Mora's eyes widened. "Um…"

  "Why don't we go upstairs and read more from our book?" I said, giving my wife an out. "And we'll pick out the potion you want to brew first." I put her down on the ground. "Go get it, huh?"

  As Nicole disappeared up the stairs, Mora released a breath. "That was hard, Gav."

  "So…she really doesn't have any magic?" Jeanie asked. "I mean, like…our kind of magic."

  "No," I said. "But she's perfect just the way she is. Don't you think?"

  Jeanie smiled. "Yeah, I agree. She's a great kid."

  Twenty-Eight

  It wouldn't be the last Potion-maker conversation I'd have with Nicole. As she grew up and realized her talents differed from her sisters, she might resent them for it. I never wanted her to feel like Jeanie had—a second-class magical with nothing to offer. Especially with two younger, more powerful sisters.

  The next night, Mora tended to the baby upstairs and Nicole and I descended to the basement with my old cauldron and an assortment of ingredients. I thought I might start her off with a healing potion, since I was quite familiar with it, and could better guide her in the instructions.

  I propped open my old potions book, the only one I'd owned until recently, feeling something like pride that I was sharing something from my childhood with my daughter. Also, grateful that I'd thought ahead to charm the pages as she angrily flipped them.

  "Careful," I said, guiding her hand. "This is very old. And very special to Daddy. You see here? This is a healing potion. Can you say healing potion?"

  "Healing potion."

  "Very good," I said. "You see that it says we have to brew it at night, right? That's why we're down here now. I've tried to brew the potion in the day and it doesn't work as well."

  She nodded and squirmed in front of the pot. With a laugh, she stuck her head inside the empty pot and giggled as her voice echoed around her.

  I gently pulled her upright. "Now, a healing potion usually begins with a liquid like water, or sometimes vinegar. This one calls for apple cider vinegar. Can you pour it in?"

  She took the bottle from me and dumped it into the cauldron as I lit a magical fire underneath.

  "Now, I want you to take this aloe leaf and dump it in—no, not three," I said as she plucked three from my hands. "One. It's important that you make the potion exactly as it's written."

  "No, Daddy," she said, grabbing the other two from my left hand and throwing them into the pot. "It needs them."

  I chuckled. "And how do you know that?"

  "The potion told me."

  "Tell me what else the potion says," I said. "Does it speak words?"

  "No," she said, dropping another handful of flowers into the pot. "It's music."

  I smiled. "Like a lullaby?"

  "It's so pretty," she said in a singsong voice as she stirred the silvery concoction with the spoon. "It tells me it also wants some pretty yellow flowers."

  Well, perhaps we wouldn't drink this one, especially as she decided the marigold flowers were much better for the potion than the echinacea buds. And she took extra care to dump spider legs into the mix, wearing an adorable look of concentration.

  "Too hot, Daddy," she said, pointing to the fire.

  "As you say," I said, lowering the temperature. "Now, we'll need to let this brew sit for two days. Why don't we run upstairs and see what Mommy and Marie are doing?"

  Nicole, prouder than I'd ever seen her before, marched up the stairs to tell her mother about what she'd done before we tucked her into bed.

  "Are you going to drink it?" Mora asked, staring at me from the bathroom mirror.

  "I don't know. Maybe?" I said, leaning back on my hands. "She seemed pretty determined about it."

  "She's also determined when she wants to eat ketchup for dinner," Mora said. "She's three, honey. She's a brilliant kid, but she's not…that brilliant."

  "You don't know that," I said. "I don't know that either. There are no Potion-makers out there I could talk to. Sparring is pretty innate…"

  "Yeah, speaking of that," Mora said, walking out of the bathroom with a bright purple attack spell in hand. "This is getting pretty potent, wouldn't you say?"

  I whistled. Something about the sight of her, five months pregnant, holding an attack spell was so incredibly beautiful. It was like falling in love with her all over again.

  "Oh what?" she said, absorbing the magic back into her body. "You think I'm hot or something?"

  "Always," I said, holding my arms out for her.

  "When are you gonna let me take this magic for a spin, then?" she asked, walking over. "I only get it for so long, and I want to see what it can do."

  "Baby, I want to spar with you, but I don't want to hurt you," I said, running my hands over her bump. "Or the baby. Most mothers don't inherit the magic of their kids' magic while they're pregnant so I don't know how much we can push it."

  "What if I promise to go really, really slowly," she whispered, kissing my neck. "Please?"

  Well, when she phrased it like that…

  We began with the basics of duels, sparring, and the mechanics behind the magic itself. She was as attentive as a student now as she had been at seventeen and it wasn't long before she was ignoring my attempts at taking things slow and egging me on.

  "Mora, if you zap my ass one more time, I will retaliate, and you won't like it," I snapped as I nearly dropped Marie.

  She giggled and disappeared around the corner.

  "Mommy's silly," Nicole said with a frown.

  "Mommy is very silly," I said with a sigh.

  Finally, I could put it off no longer. With the pretense to Nina that we were going out on a long-awaited date night, Mora and I left the girls in her charge and headed out to a desolate beach nearby. It was early May, so a light chill still hung in the Massachusetts air. The days were getting longer, and the sunset cast a beautiful orange glow over my wife.

  "You ready for this?"
she asked, punching her other hand. "I'm ready to knock your ass out."

  "Just take it easy, okay?" I said, second-guessing this plan as she tossed the magical spell from one hand to another. "Warriors lack the natural control on their magic that prevents them from overdoing it. And you could really hurt the baby—and yourself."

  "I promise I'll be careful," she said with a tone that told me she wouldn't. Against every instinct I had, I formed a spell and gently sent it over.

  Mora easily deflected it with her own and pursed her lips at me. "What the hell was that?"

  "Just a test," I replied. "I wanted to see how you'd react."

  "By soft balling it in like that?" She scoffed. "I can take a punch."

  At that, I had to laugh. There she was, five months pregnant, our child distending her belly out over her maternity pants, with her hands on her hips. "Then maybe I just don't want to hurt you. I love you too much."

  "Pssh. You're just a wimp," she said, taking a stance much like a football player. "C'mon, baby. Let's take this magic for a spin."

  And so we did, back and forth, the softball hits growing steadily more powerful as I determined she could handle them. Her instincts were fairly good, and she wielded the new powers with ease. Having only been the recipient of training, it was strange to parrot the same words that Jones and Alexandra had once said to me.

  "You're thinking too much," I said. "Just let your magic work for you. It's faster than you are."

  "This is some powerful stuff here, Gav," she said, holding aloft a spell. "Our kid is going to come out of the womb with this kind of firepower?"

  "I suppose," I said. "But it'll be some time before she can really use it like you are."

  Mora released a ball so powerful it singed the side of my head as it whizzed by. "Be careful. Remember what I said about not having limits. You've been using your magic for years. The baby needs time to develop hers."

  "I feel fine, baby," she said. "I feel…" Her eyes crossed and she fell to her knees. "Wait, maybe not."

  I sighed and transported to her side. "See? What did I tell you?"

  "But I barely did anything," she said as I helped her to her feet.

  "You did more than you think," I said.

  Mora allowed me to take her back home, setting her on the couch with her feet up while I retrieved the girls. They were, of course, all wound up from making chocolate cupcakes with Aunt Nina, which I thanked her oh so much for.

  The girls bounded into the house, climbing up on the couch next to Mora, who listened gingerly.

  "Mommy owwie?" Marie asked, climbing onto her lap.

  "No, baby," Mora said, kissing her forehead. "Just tired."

  "Mommy owwie," she said, pointing to her stomach.

  "Mommy doesn't have an owwie," she said, stroking Marie's hair. "She's just tired. Come lie here with me while Daddy gets us a glass of water."

  Marie snuggled up against her mother and rested her small hand on Mora's stomach. I turned to go retrieve water when I heard Mora gasp. Marie's hands were glowing white, as were her open eyes.

  "Gavon, what the hell is she doing?" Mora cried. "Baby, stop—"

  Marie's eyes returned to normal and she smiled. "Mommy no owwie!"

  "Did she just…heal you?" I said, cocking my head.

  "I…guess so," Mora said as Marie yawned and tucked herself back in. "I feel better, a little. That was weird."

  "Well, Mom had an owwie," I said with a chuckle. "She wanted to help."

  "This isn't funny. She looked possessed," Mora said, sitting back against the couch. "Not funny at all, McKinnon."

  Nicole tugged at my pants. "Daddy, Daddy. I want to help Mommy."

  "Oh, sweetie," I said, kneeling down. "You know how you've got special magic to hear the plants? Marie's got special magic to heal Mommy."

  "But the potion!"

  I winced. That healing potion. I supposed she'd remembered it after all. "I don't know if that's…"

  "Potion, Daddy!" She took off toward the basement.

  Torn between not wanting to give my wife something untested and not wanting to disappoint my daughter, I followed her into the basement where the cauldron was happily bubbling. It had taken on a bright silvery tone, which was different from the greenish gray it normally was.

  "It's done!" Nicole announced happily.

  I joined her at the cauldron, summoning a ladle and a mug and pouring a little into it. Childhood memories of drinking potions that resulted in days of vomiting came back to me, and I swallowed a little bile that had risen up.

  "Baby, maybe we need to redo it," I said, dropping the mug from my lips.

  "Drink! Drink!" she said, taking the potion from me.

  "No, no." I pulled the mug back. "You can't drink it. It's dangerous."

  Her bottom lip stuck out and her eyes filled with tears.

  "Nicole," I said with a heavy sigh. "Fine."

  I swallowed my pride and took a gulp, promising myself that making my daughter feel good about her magic was more important than maintaining stomach integrity. The taste was horrific, like eating grass and bleach. And then, where I expected the concoction to come right back up, it settled happily in my stomach. A warmth spread from my midsection to my fingers and toes, clearing out the few cobwebs from using the magic.

  "Daddy no owwie," Nicole said proudly.

  I stared into the cup, at a loss for words. I'd made this potion hundreds of times, and it had never been so…fast-acting or potent.

  "Gavon!"

  "Coming," I said, ladling more into the cup and bringing it back up the stairs. "Mora, you have to try this."

  "What, the potion?" she said with a disgusted look. "The one you said your daughter…" She glanced at Nicole, who was climbing up on the other side of her. "…made."

  "Just…try it. I did, and it's safe." I handed her the cup. "Trust me."

  Mora took a hesitant sip then grimaced. "Oh my God, Gavon, this smells like feet," she said, pushing the cup away from her. "Is this safe?"

  "Absolutely."

  "Mommy, drink it." Nicole's wide, brown eyes were trained on her mother. And with that same look of guilt mixed with apprehension that I'd probably worn, Mora took a long sip. She swallowed, the crease between her brow prominent, but forced a smile onto her face. "It's a good potion, baby. Why don't you run up to your room and get your blanket? Then we can watch cartoons."

  She dashed away, and Mora's dissolved into retching.

  "I'm going to vomit," she said, handing me the glass. "How can you drink that shit?"

  "Do you feel better?" I asked with a laugh.

  "Well…yeah, except I feel like I'm going to vomit," Mora said, rubbing her stomach. "Are you sure that was safe to drink?"

  I nodded. "She's got good instincts. She might be able to make that potion even better. She won't ever get it not to taste like feet, though. That's just the way it is. But your magic…?"

  "I don't feel as tired as I did," she said, belching and making a face. "But at what cost, baby? At what cost?"

  I kissed her forehead and covered her with a nearby blanket. "That's why you need to listen to me and not overdo it."

  "Can we spar again tomorrow?"

  "Only if you promise to take it easy."

  Twenty-Nine

  Nicole made several other potions over the next few days, all of which far surpassed anything I could've made. Her transporting potion was so powerful that a mere drop of it sent me to the edge of town. I was completely out of my depth when it came to helping her; all we had was the book that I'd found, which seemed to take advantage of her innate powers.

  Back in New Salem, the village was still celebrating the arrival of James. Every visit seemed tinged with more beer and celebration, and less work. It was helpful for me, because I was better able to sneak in fresh supplies. But I was growing tired of his mother, whose new celebrity status was getting on my nerves.

  Especially when I saw her sitting in the Council room, having taken over Humbe
rt's usual seat.

  "Why is she here?" I asked.

  "Because she's the mother of our future Guildmaster," Alexandra said with something of an annoyed tone. "And she will keep the position until such time as he takes her place."

  "Really?" I couldn't see a reason she'd want to sit in on the Council meetings, except for her inflated sense of self.

  "And she's also going to help me decide who will teach her son how to wield magic," Alexandra finished.

  "Oh yes," Agatha said, rocking the child in her arms. I didn't miss how her gaze landed on me. Perhaps she hadn't heard the rumors I was putting out in the village.

  "We're just waiting on Cyrus," Alexandra said with a frown. "It's not like him to be late."

  The doors to the Council room opened, and an Enchanter ran in, her face pale and horrified. "Guildmaster, there's been a discovery in the village. It's Mary, she..."

  I jumped to my feet and followed Alexandra and the Enchanter out into the village. We didn't have to walk for very long. Cyrus stood in the city center, ranting and raving at Mary, who had a small child in her arms. I'd never seen the child before—it wasn't one of Mary's.

  Except, she resembled Mary's children. The same nose, the same eyes.

  "Cyrus, what's going on here?" Alexandra said. "Why are you frightening this—"

  She turned to the child, just as I realized I was getting no magical signature from her. This child was…a Potion-maker. A living, breathing Potion-maker who'd lived past her first day in this village.

  Alexandra's face was a mask, but Cyrus's was full of delighted glee. "Guildmaster, she's been hiding this abomination in her grain cellar. As if we wouldn't know—as if we wouldn't be able to find her. It's an affront to your leadership and our—"

  "Enough," Alexandra said softly. "That's enough, Cyrus. Mary, please explain yourself."

  Mary said nothing, holding her child for dear life. The child was three—the same age as Nicole. She looked at me with big brown eyes, and I felt sick to my stomach.

  "Very well," Alexandra said with a heavy sigh. "You know the rules of the village, Mary. There will be no Potion-makers."