Mezzarix turned and gazed upon her with a venomous gleam in his eye. “That would be the biggest mistake you’ve ever made.”
Ms. Bimini clicked her tongue. “You’re good, Mezzarix, but I’ve heard whisperings that there are others who might be able to do what you can do. This grandson of yours has already developed a reputation as being someone who shares your skills. Should I grow too bored, perhaps I’ll recruit him to my cause.”
At that moment, Mezzarix felt invisible hands pressing on his shoulders. He sucked in a breath as the hands moved to his throat.
“Can you keep your wits about you long enough to finish your work?” Ms. Bimini asked.
Mezzarix remained silent, and the hands fell away from his throat.
Ms. Bimini casually bowed and strolled away.
“What have I gotten myself into?” Mezzarix muttered as Ravian drew near.
“It’s a revolution,” Ravian replied. “They are never easy. And you may not like our new partner, but she’s right. These fits you keep having are going to muddle your mind. And when that happens, you could ruin an entire batch of potion. This won’t work if half our group triggers the alarms at B.R.E.W.”
“You do know that once this goes down, there will be casualties. Anyone caught at the headquarters will be punished severely.” Mezzarix shifted his gaze toward Ravian. “You’ve lived quite a charmed life. I doubt you’ve seen the punishment B.R.E.W. can dish out.”
“The reward is worth the risk,” he replied. “I’m in it for the glory—and the gold, of course.”
Mezzarix leaned forward and whirled a glass wand through one of the thickening mixtures. “There’s no gold in Greenland.”
“Let me approach Gordy,” Ravian pressed. “Together, we can perform the proper ceremony to free you.”
“I’ve taken steps to protect myself.” Mezzarix clenched his jaw, fighting off the urge to jump down Ravian’s throat. His constant pain had broken his ability to keep calm and stay in control.
“What sort of steps?”
“I’ve called in a favor from an old family friend. They’ll make sure to put pieces into play soon enough.” Mezzarix glanced over to where his open satchel rested next to the workstation. He could see where only one of the gray glass jars remained, peeking out from the pocket of the bag.
Gordy steered his bicycle off the sidewalk and laid it down in the yard of 487 Harper Hood Lane, its wheels still spinning. It had been a six-mile trek across several neighborhoods, but he had made excellent time. Mostly because he had doused one of Bolter’s Burning Rubber Reductions on his tires before pushing off from his house. Gordy almost hadn’t needed to pedal.
Gordy recognized Dez Mumphrey at once, stumbling up the steps leading to the massive oak door, sneezing and wiping his nose with a handkerchief. Almost everything triggered a reaction either on Dez’s skin or in his lungs or in his hair. To be a Dram with his allergies was unfortunate and often resulted in catastrophe.
A large cluster of bushes, recently pruned, towered over Gordy’s head, shielding him from the entryway of Sasha’s massive home as he knelt down and checked the inventory of his backpack. He had brought a few vials of his most recent creations, his favorite brass cauldron, and several sheets of baseball card protectors, each small pocket crammed with ingredients.
For a moment, Gordy thought he heard something heavy snapping twigs in the bushes, and he peered through the branches, searching for the source of the sound. Despite the late-evening sun barely touching the treetops, the shadows in the bushes made it too dark to see, and whatever had made the noise had stopped. Gordy’s skin prickled. He was having serious second thoughts about going into the Brexils’ house. Even though he had left the twins snuggled on the couch where they would be set for hours watching their favorite YouTube channel, Gordy still felt bad about not telling his parents where he was going.
After checking once more for what might have been a dog rummaging around in the bushes, Gordy took a deep breath and walked to the front porch.
When Sasha opened the door and laid eyes on Gordy, she announced, “The guest of honor is here!”
Gordy smiled out of courtesy, but he didn’t think she was being serious. Guest of honor? More like the next victim.
“I hope you brought your invitation like I told you.” She extended a palm, blocking his entry into the house. “Can’t get in without it.”
Gordy fumbled in the front zipper pocket of his backpack and pulled out the creased invitation. Snatching it from his fingers, Sasha dropped it into a glass bowl resting on a table in the entryway. There were already three other cards floating in what looked like pink Detection potion.
“Our wards are the most powerful in the whole city,” Sasha said, biting her lip and grinning as Gordy’s invitation suddenly crackled with electricity. “Even more powerful than the ones at B.R.E.W.”
Gordy hoped Sasha hadn’t seen him roll his eyes. What a crock! He was starting to wish he hadn’t made the six-mile bike ride to her party. He didn’t know how much of Sasha’s gloating he could handle.
The entryway expanded into a wide room with a spiral staircase that led to the second floor and a golden chandelier that, upon closer examination, was made up of cauldrons of various shapes and sizes and sprinkled with gemstones.
“The kitchen’s this way,” Sasha said. “That’s where we’ll be brewing.”
Gordy frowned. “Why not in the lab?”
She rolled her eyes. “We’re not allowed downstairs in my mom’s lab. She keeps too many dangerous things there. And there are extra wards around the lab that won’t even let me in. The kitchen will be fine. Trust me.”
Sasha led Gordy through an immense hallway plastered with family portraits. Each one showcased a gradually aging Sasha, from infant to one that could have been taken yesterday. In every pose, a smiling Sasha stood between her father, who wore a stern expression, and her mother, who possessed a pleasant smile. Like Sasha, Mrs. Brexil had dark, perfect skin and large brown eyes with long eyelashes. But unlike her daughter, Mrs. Brexil didn’t seem to age. She looked identical from the first portrait to the thirteenth. Gordy thought she looked nice, even friendly, but he knew pictures didn’t tell the whole story.
As they neared the kitchen, Gordy heard glass containers clinking, along with hushed voices chatting to each other. Gordy followed Sasha through the opening and was almost greeted with a face full of snot. Luckily, his reflexes kicked in just in time to save him from one of Dez Mumphrey’s sneezing eruptions, and he ducked out of harm’s way.
“Sorry, Gordy!” Dez apologized, wiping his nose. Gordy noticed a few splotchy welts pocking the back of Dez’s hands. Already, the poor kid had started reacting to whatever it was the rest of the Drams were brewing.
“That was close.” Sasha glared at Dez. “How about you use a tissue next time and give us a warning?”
Dez looked mortified as he pushed past Gordy into the hallway, sneezing several more times into the crook of his elbow. Brianna Washburn and Pedro Rodriguez, the other two Drams invited to the party, crowded around a medium-sized cauldron resting atop the gas-powered stove.
“Pedro says he knows how to brew a potion that will make the paint on any wall cycle through every color in the rainbow when you clap your hands,” Sasha whispered to Gordy, though it was still loud enough that the other two could easily hear her. “I told him to prove it, because that sounds fake to me.”
“I call it Cambio Compote, and trust me, it’ll work,” Pedro said, looking up from the cauldron. “What’s up, Gordy?”
“What’s up, Pedro?” Gordy replied.
Pedro was a nice enough guy, but he played soccer and ran cross-country and was like a black belt in some form of martial arts, which meant he didn’t have a lot of time to hang out with Gordy. Max swore he could take Pedro one on one in a wrestling match, but Gordy knew that was all talk.
Brianna smiled at Gordy and chirped a hello, which was hard to do with the amount of hardware tightened around her teeth. It was a wonder she could even open her mouth. Just looking at Brianna’s headgear made Gordy’s jaw hurt.
Gordy rose up on his tiptoes to see into Pedro’s cauldron. Tangerine-colored liquid shimmered in the metal bowl.
“Snacks are on the table, and sodas are in the refrigerator,” Sasha announced. “Help yourself to whatever you want.”
Behind Brianna and Pedro was a banquet table with several platters of sticky deliciousness. There were brownies with chocolate frosting and chopped nuts, a bowl of marshmallow-coated popcorn, and a spiral plate of caramel apple slices. A New York–style cheesecake was missing a wedge; it was resting on a plate next to Pedro. Gordy’s mouth watered. Maybe he would make a pit stop at the snack table before getting down to business.
A hand dropped heavily onto Gordy’s shoulder, and he looked up into Mr. Brexil’s smiling face. Immediately, the air fizzled out of Gordy’s lungs.
“Hello there,” the principal said. “I was wondering when you would show. Hope you didn’t have any trouble finding our house.”
“Ah . . .” Seeing Principal Brexil in a T-shirt and blue jeans made Gordy want to throw up. It wasn’t natural. Like a wolf wearing a tuxedo. Though Mr. Brexil’s voice sounded soothing and inviting, Gordy didn’t buy it. Not for one second. “I just rode my bike,” he said, his voice trembling slightly.
“A bike rider, eh?” Mr. Brexil asked. “Any aspirations of joining a race?”
Gordy, bewildered, managed to shake his head.
“I’ve done a few myself,” Mr. Brexil continued, taking no notice of Gordy’s baffled expression. “I’ve never medaled, but we put together a team of teachers from my last school and took sixth place overall in a city cup. Not too shabby. I’ll show you my gear later on, if you’re interested.”
Bike gear?
“Dad, stop bothering my guests.” Sasha shoved her father in the arm, pushing him away from the kitchen.
“I know when I’m not wanted.” Principal Brexil pointed at Gordy. “Later, Gordy. I’ll show you my trophies too.”
Oh, yeah, sign me up for that! Gordy thought to himself. Right after I sear all my nose hairs off with a Bunsen burner.
“I made Pedro and Brianna use the cooktop for their potions. You and I can use the two Bunsen burners on the kitchen table. They’re brand-new Copen Warners,” Sasha said proudly. “That way you won’t be able to complain that you had faulty equipment when I beat you fair and square.” She snapped her fingers close to Gordy’s ear. “Hello? Are you listening?”
“What?” Gordy had been looking down the hallway, where he could see the lights from a television flashing from a tucked-away room. How was he expected to brew when Principal Brexil was within earshot of the kitchen?
“I’m going to make a Hungarian Ragaszto Ragout. Do you know what that is?” Sasha asked.
Gordy did. His mom had several flasks of the restraining potion in her cupboards back in her lab. A Ragaszto Ragout could glue an enemy’s hands to any surface, keeping them immobile. Gordy’s mom used it often when she needed to frisk a captured Scourge for dangerous vials. It was a tricky potion, and one that required multiple tedious steps and rare ingredients.
“What are you going to make? It had better be good or this will be the easiest competition I’ve ever won.” Sasha wore a self-assured grin, which might have been meant as playful, but it made something inside Gordy snap.
Gnawing on his lip, Gordy dug deep into his memory for something extraordinary. There were dozens of potions he could whip up in no time. But those wouldn’t be good enough.
“Oh, I don’t know.” He gave one final peek down the hallway toward Mr. Brexil’s bedroom. “I think I’ll Blind Batch something for fun.”
Sasha rolled her eyes. “Don’t be stupid. This is serious.”
“I am being serious.” Gordy leveled his gaze upon her.
Blind Batching was an incredibly rare practice that only a handful of Elixirists could do—Gordy being one of them, as well as his grandfather, Mezzarix Rook. Without following a specific recipe or knowing beforehand the ingredients needed for the desired potion, Gordy couldn’t honestly predict what might transpire. He could almost hear Adilene’s voice in his ears, saying he should brew something simple and safe with a recipe. But he wanted more than anything to wipe that mocking smirk off Sasha’s face, and if it took Blind Batching to do that, so be it.
Sasha’s eyes narrowed as she looked at the Drams who had lost interest in Pedro’s Cambio Compote. The showdown between Gordy and Sasha was shaping up to be far more intriguing.
Sasha’s mouth twitched, and Gordy noticed evidence of doubt wavering behind her eyes. “You can’t really Blind Batch,” she said. “Can you?”
Gordy’s Copen Warner Bunsen burner, still gleaming from the original packaging, evenly heated his brass cauldron with a steady blast of bluish-orange flame. He had never used such high-quality equipment before, and it made brewing so much easier.
With her decent batch of Ragaszto Ragout already cooling in a corked glass flask, Sasha stood next to Pedro, Brianna, and Dez, who had finally emerged from the bathroom. The group watched Gordy add ingredients to his cauldron. Occasionally, Sasha would whisper something to Brianna and shake her head, as if to imply Gordy didn’t have a chance of making a viable concoction. But Gordy kept his focus on his potion and ignored the rest of the distractions. He had already used most of the ingredients in his supply, as well as some from Pedro’s personal stash.
Gordy blew out his Amber Wick across the top of the cauldron and killed the flame of the Bunsen burner. The potion, an almond-colored liquid with four-leaf-clover splotches scattered throughout, instantly cooled and hardened. With his knife, Gordy broke the surface, slicing through his mixture as though it were an elegant piece of cheese.
“What is that?” Sasha asked, scrunching her nose at Gordy’s creation.
“It doesn’t have a name yet,” Gordy said, his tone almost reverent. He gently laid the section on a paper plate and stepped back. “But if swallowed, this will make you temporarily weigh as much as a car.”
“Get out!” Pedro laughed. He elbowed Dez in the ribs, and the sickly boy expelled a wheezing oof. “Are you for real?”
Gordy nodded, hesitantly at first, but then with confidence. “I think so.” No, he knew it would work. He had used all the right ingredients, performed each step accurately.
Hefty Cheese. The name popped into Gordy’s head, but he immediately shook it away. That was something Max would have suggested. Gordy needed to be more original. Massive Muenster. Or . . . Gravity Gouda! That was the one.
Sasha remained unimpressed. “Prove it,” she said. “Show us what it can do, if you’re so confident.”
Gordy licked his lips in concentration and then broke off a piece of the cheese no bigger than his pinkie fingernail. It was large enough to prove it worked but small enough that the effect would last just a few minutes. He held the Gravity Gouda at eye level, inspecting it one final time before he popped it into his mouth and chewed. It tasted like stinky cheese, pungent and crumbly, but he swallowed the piece down anyway.
The change happened instantly, and Gordy became rooted to the kitchen floor. It wasn’t a crushing feeling—more like his entire body had been filled with cement. Gordy’s arms hung at his sides, two wrecking balls for hands swaying like pendulums. He shifted his eyes toward Sasha, and she pushed him squarely in the chest. Gordy didn’t move, but she stumbled backwards. Pedro, Brianna, and Dez each took a turn trying to move him. They joined forces, but even with Dez swinging all his weight on Gordy’s arm, not one of them could make him step even an inch in either direction.
“How did you do that?” Pedro asked, exhausted from his effort.
As the effects of the cheese wor
e off, Gordy felt a sensation like sandpaper being rubbed over his skin. Then he heard the sound of clapping hands from the doorway. Gordy turned to see Sasha’s mom standing there, applauding.
“Well done, Mr. Stitser,” Mrs. Brexil said. “I wouldn’t have believed it had I not seen it with my own eyes.”
How could she have watched him? She’d only just now shown up in the kitchen. As if sensing Gordy’s puzzlement, Mrs. Brexil pointed to the corner of the ceiling, where a tiny camera was perched with its lens angled toward the table.
“Had to observe to make sure all was well in my home,” she said. “I believe Drams need to be closely monitored when not brewing within a sanctioned laboratory. It keeps our world safer, don’t you agree?” The woman’s eyes narrowed as the corner of her mouth twitched toward the beginnings of a smile. “I must say, you definitely live up to the hype.”
After cleaning up their workstations, the four Drams and Mrs. Brexil sat at the table, devouring plates of sugary sweets.
“When did you know you could Blind Batch?” Mrs. Brexil asked Gordy. She had poured herself some sparkling lemonade and lounged in a chair, one leg draped over the other, swirling the pale-yellow liquid in her glass.
Sasha’s mom looked as though she could’ve modeled for toothpaste ads with her sparkling white teeth. Gordy did notice, however, a few crow’s-feet by the older woman’s eyes as she smiled, showing her age, if only slightly. She wore a suit and high heels and looked as though she were about to attend an important meeting. Where did she have to go so late on a Saturday evening?
Gordy glanced at the Gravity Gouda resting as the centerpiece on the table and wanted to shrivel up. Mrs. Brexil was an Elixirist, which meant she understood the dangers of Blind Batching, even if she couldn’t do it herself. The memory of Gordy’s mom panicking when she’d caught Gordy in the act of mixing the Mangle potion popped into his mind.
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