summoning dark winds or ghastly spirits of the deep. Miranda and Louise appeared to be cooking and exchanging recipes.
Louise chose a bottle and shook something tiny into the palm of her hand. “Eye of newt,” she said. “Can’t seem to make anything without old eye of newt.”
“I know,” Miranda said, “but they’re so hard to cut up, and a whole one always seems to be too much.”
“Just make a lot and put it on the shelf. This stuff don’t spoil, babe. It can’t spoil. No way. Not if you put it through the flame and say the words.” Louise popped the newt’s eye into the pot, and Miranda leaned over to sniff the steam.
“Evil,” she said, drawing back. “It smells awful, Louise. Nobody’s going to drink that stuff voluntarily.”
Louise shook her head. “Miranda, child, how many times I have to explain? First the things of power you put in and make sure they be well charmed up, then the sweet things of field and woods to make it good. Now rhino horn.”
“We shouldn’t, you know,” protested Miranda. “The poor rhinos are almost extinct just because of people like us.”
Louise put down the jar she was holding with a thump. “You think you charm a man without rhino horn? You just show me how. Go on. Find something.” She gestured at the row of bottles. “I truly waiting to be surprised.”
“Well, maybe just a pinch,” Miranda said. “You’re right; there just is no substitute, and after all, this rhino perished long ago. There’s no point letting it go to waste. I don’t expect to be needing this particular potion again.”
Louise snorted. “Better make it strong, then,” she said, shaking the gray powder into the pot. “You won’t hook that cold fish with any wimpy little pinch of horn.”
“It’s not me he doesn’t like,” Miranda explained. “It’s everything else.” She sniffed again. “Mmmm. Better already. I wonder how this will taste with Scotch?”
Bren had listened shamelessly from his dark vantage point near the door. Now he felt that he had heard enough. He cleared his throat and advanced into the room. “Do you know what time it is?” he said. “Couldn’t we think about cooking something a little more nourishing?”
Miranda gave a guilty start. “Oh, Bren, is school over? I completely lost track.”
“School has been over for a century,” Bren said, “and the house is so gloomy even Gram’s got the creeps. Come up and make like a mother for a while, if it’s not asking too much.”
Miranda turned back to her crony. “Louise, dear, can you wind up the charm by yourself? You’re so much better at it than I am, and duty calls.”
“You better believe I am, babe,” Louise said. “I just surprised you trust me alone with your potion. How you know I won’t turn your fish into a goat?”
Louise chuckled at her own humor, and Miranda fixed her with a bright, blue stare. “Oh, I’m not worried about that,” she said. “As a certain fish once pointed out, the price of real estate on the West Side has gone much too high in the last few years for anyone to take any chances. But thanks, Lou, for all the help and for the rhino horn. I’ll pay you back for that.”
Miranda blew a kiss to her sister witch and followed Bren up the stairs. When they reached the hall, Bren said, “I got your wretched frog, by the way, which is why I’m late, so if you’re fiddling with the weather, you can stop.”
“Oh, Bren, that is good news,” his mother said. “But I wasn’t, you know—fiddling with the weather, as you put it. All of this changing from clouds to sun and back again is someone else’s work entirely.” Miranda cast a pious glance in the direction of the skylight, then turned back to look closely at Bren. “How long were you down there watching us?” she asked.
“Not long, but long enough,” Bren said. “If you think you’re going to mix that glop with twelve-year-old whisky and get an expert like Dad to drink it, you must be
Louise chose a bottle and shook something tiny into the palm of her hand. “Eye of newt,” she said. “Can’t seem to make anything without old eye of newt.”
“I know,” Miranda said, “but they’re so hard to cut up, and a whole one always seems to be too much.”
“Just make a lot and put it on the shelf. This stuff don’t spoil, babe. It can’t spoil. No way. Not if you put it through the flame and say the words.” Louise popped the newt’s eye into the pot, and Miranda leaned over to sniff the steam.
“Evil,” she said, drawing back. “It smells awful, Louise. Nobody’s going to drink that stuff voluntarily.”
Louise shook her head. “Miranda, child, how many times I have to explain? First the things of power you put in and make sure they be well charmed up, then the sweet things of field and woods to make it good. Now rhino horn.”
“We shouldn’t, you know,” protested Miranda. “The poor rhinos are almost extinct just because of people like us.”
Louise put down the jar she was holding with a thump. “You think you charm a man without rhino horn? You just show me how. Go on. Find something.” She gestured at the row of bottles. “I truly waiting to be surprised.”
“Well, maybe just a pinch,” Miranda said. “You’re right; there just is no substitute, and after all, this rhino perished long ago. There’s no point letting it go to waste. I don’t expect to be needing this particular potion again.”
Louise snorted. “Better make it strong, then,” she said, shaking the gray powder into the pot. “You won’t hook that cold fish with any wimpy little pinch of horn.”
“It’s not me he doesn’t like,” Miranda explained. “It’s everything else.” She sniffed again. “Mmmm. Better already. I wonder how this will taste with Scotch?”
Bren had listened shamelessly from his dark vantage point near the door. Now he felt that he had heard enough. He cleared his throat and advanced into the room. “Do you know what time it is?” he said. “Couldn’t we think about cooking something a little more nourishing?”
Miranda gave a guilty start. “Oh, Bren, is school over? I completely lost track.”
“School has been over for a century,” Bren said, “and the house is so gloomy even Gram’s got the creeps. Come up and make like a mother for a while, if it’s not asking too much.”
Miranda turned back to her crony. “Louise, dear, can you wind up the charm by yourself? You’re so much better at it than I am, and duty calls.”
“You better believe I am, babe,” Louise said. “I just surprised you trust me alone with your potion. How you know I won’t turn your fish into a goat?”
Louise chuckled at her own humor, and Miranda fixed her with a bright, blue stare. “Oh, I’m not worried about that,” she said. “As a certain fish once pointed out, the price of real estate on the West Side has gone much too high in the last few years for anyone to take any chances. But thanks, Lou, for all the help and for the rhino horn. I’ll pay you back for that.”
Miranda blew a kiss to her sister witch and followed Bren up the stairs. When they reached the hall, Bren said, “I got your wretched frog, by the way, which is why I’m late, so if you’re fiddling with the weather, you can stop.”
“Oh, Bren, that is good news,” his mother said. “But I wasn’t, you know—fiddling with the weather, as you put it. All of this changing from clouds to sun and back again is someone else’s work entirely.” Miranda cast a pious glance in the direction of the skylight, then turned back to look closely at Bren. “How long were you down there watching us?” she asked.
“Not long, but long enough,” Bren said. “If you think you’re going to mix that glop with twelve-year-old whisky and get an expert like Dad to drink it, you must be
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