Merlin lifted his eyebrows suggestively. "Perhaps you even underestimate yourself, and a little confidence boost wouldn't hurt. What do you say? Will you... help us?" He leaned in toward her, almost as if he was trying to insinuate something.
Perhaps he was, she thought, but tried to get her focus back to the situation at hand. After all, it was just as possible he was intentionally toying with her as it was that something as preposterous as her love spell working had happened.
But then she remembered something, and that nearly convinced her. And when she was nearly convinced, she nearly passed out.
"What did you say your name was?" she asked the man holding the journal.
"Nick," he said. "Nick Flamel. Why do you ask?"
She blinked at him a couple of times, trying to wrap her head around everything that had gone down in the last twenty-four hours. "No reason," she said, but even she didn't sound convinced. "What would you like me to do?"
She should have seen this coming.
If she theoretically had been granted with the skill of foresight, the least she could have gotten out of the deal would have been some warning. But, no, here she was, in a frenzy, doing her best to clean up her little home.
She lived in a darling, cozy little cottage in what passed for downtown. It was the kind of place that was altogether more pedestrian than most witches lived in, but it was within walking distance of her shop, and it got the loveliest amount of light for her plants. The inside had walls lined with books and more plants and stones, the exact fairy tale cottage a kind witch would live in, and it brought her a sense of peace. It wasn't unlike her shop, but here she had her cat and cabinets full of tea, and it calmed her down.
Usually, that was.
Today, she found it... lacking. The thing about witch homes was that, on the whole, they were given to grandeur. Since many witches lived longer lives than their human counterparts, and since they were prone to showing off, they amassed a substantial sum of money and then to spend it.
The result? An abundance of mansions in the witch world, especially ones with treasures from around the world, but ones that leaned a little on the impersonal side.
Cassandra had always found the community's infatuation with grandeur eye-roll-worthy, but she'd also done her best to stick to human home visitors who usually gushed over her garden and cat instead of witches who were more likely to comment on how "quaint" the place was.
Until now.
She had started out the conversation convinced she was going to find a way for them to work together... pretty much literally anywhere other than her home. The library, she'd thought, or maybe the coffee shop if they liked it too. Failing that, she thought perhaps they could clear out some space in the back room of Roots and Gerunds. Or maybe they could just meet in the shop after hours.
But it seemed Merlin had a way with words. He'd convinced her they'd love to see her home, even if it was a small little human-ish place covered in cat hair and books in random places. She'd tried to convince them otherwise, she was almost sure she had, but looking back on it, she wasn't even certain the words had left her mouth.
Now, she ran around her place, running a vacuum over all the soft surfaces and a wet rag over the hard ones. She cleaned the cat box one last time, put the scattered books on their appropriate shelves, then started the water kettle to make some tea before they arrived.
It'll be fine, she reasoned with herself. She'd warned them. At least, she thought she had, and that would have to be enough.
She jumped when the doorbell rang.
"Ah, right where I suspected," Isaac said. "What a perfectly reasonable place to have a home. Just a quick walk to your shop, it seems? How lovely."
Cassandra took a deep breath, trying to determine whether he was making fun of her, but his smile and the way he looked around seemed like a genuine show of appreciation, and she forced herself to relax a bit.
"Please," she said, "come in. Would you like some tea?" She moved out of the doorway to allow them passage, trying to hold on to the kindness she'd seen in Isaac's face instead of onto the anxiety she had around other witches seeing her home. As Merlin passed, she felt his hand go to the small of her back, but not in the way men usually did with her; rather, with him, it felt like... an intentional motion to reassure her.
She wondered if he was doing a charm to manipulate her into calming down at his touch. Not that she would have been unhappy about that, given the circumstances, but it would be valuable information for her to know whether she felt charmed by him because of magic or because...
Or because she was into him.
She had, so far, done her best to put her love spell out of her mind. It seemed likely enough the only reason she'd done it was to get the men to come into her life enough she could help them. If she tried to believe that what she'd done had been effectual? Well, it seemed likely it'd end up she was wrong, and she'd just end up disappointed.
But witch or not, she still had hormones. And man, those hormones were likely making her much more receptive to these men than she might otherwise have been.
She tried to put it out of her mind, and when she brought her attention back to the man before her, she realized he'd answered her question several moments ago while she'd been staring into space.
"Very good," she said, "I'll make a jasmine green tea." She used it as an excuse to leave the men in her living room while she went to the kitchen to gather her thoughts.
The kettle whistled, and she prepared a tray with various cups, a few types of milks and creams, and several types of sweeteners. She added a few snacks to a second one, just in case anyone found themselves peckish while they were working, then carried the first one out.
She wasn't sure what she expected to see when she got back to the living room. Perhaps she'd expected them to be going through her books—though she was glad they weren't reading her romance collection—or to be sitting stiffly on her comfortable seating and staring at their surroundings with disdain. Instead, they were arguing passionately about something she didn't quite understand; the words "formulas," "writings," and "translations" flew about. On the coffee table between them was a collection of papers and diagrams, in the center of which was Nick's journal.
When she approached, all three of them froze, then moved into apologies.
"I am so deeply sorry, Miss Cassandra-"
"We should have kept it together-"
"We shouldn't have started without you-"
"Would y'all stop it and just move some of your papers off the table so I can set this down?" she interrupted them.
They all scrambled to do so and made a show of getting out of her way, and when she set it down, they erupted in a chorus of "thanks" before pouring themselves mugs and adding milks and sweeteners to their preferences. As they did that, she disappeared again to get the snacks, and returned to more arguing, this time whispered.
"We've scared her, and it's all your fault. If you had just-"
"Look, I know, but you-"
"GUYS." Cassandra nearly yelled at them this time. "Cut it out. You will not scare me." She sighed. She was only half lying; she'd been apprehensive about them initially, but now that they were in her living room absolutely terrified of accidentally disrespecting her? Nope. Now she was more entertained by them than anything.
"Well, I hope not," Nick said, moving over to make room for her. "I was really hoping we'd make a better first impression, though," he said.
Cassandra tried not to roll her eyes, but put some extra effort into softening her voice before she spoke. She didn't want to hurt their feelings, either, especially not when what she was saying was true. "You made a fine first impression. Better than fine. I'm just kind of an awkward person, and that's not your fault at all."
It would help if they weren't so damn attractive, she thought, but kept it to herself. It's not like it was their fault her sexual attraction was on overdrive.
Isaac furrowed his brows. "I don't find you all that a
wkward," he said, "except perhaps when you claim to be awkward, which is overall an obvious lie."
She wasn't sure she could trust his opinion, since he seemed to be the most awkward of the three of them, but maybe that bit of charity on his part was alright.
Sexy nerd? Yes, please.
"I appreciate that," she said. "So, anyway.... what exactly were we discussing?"
"We were debating whether the chemical composition of the philosopher's stone required mercury for the next step of its transmogrification process. We seem to have differing opinions on the translation of the writings. I don't suppose you're an expert in code-breaking?" He asked in a way that suggested he almost expected her to confirm she was one, and the sincerity on his face made her laugh.
"I studied plants," she deadpanned. "I'm not even sure I know what all of this means."
"Ah, but I don't suppose you need to," Merlin said, smiling. He moved his hands somewhat theatrically, as if he felt that would help him make his point. "I believe your skill here will be to tell us the results, not to tell us how to get them."
"I still don't understand," Cassandra hesitated.
"I believe what he's saying," Nick interrupted, "is that you'll be able to help us guess which of our hypotheses are accurate based on your visions of the future, not based on your scientific knowledge."
Cassandra blinked. "But I don't have visions of the future," she said.
Merlin smiled more widely, crossing over to Cassandra and placing one large hand on her shoulder. She shivered with his touch, and for a moment forgot how to breathe as he looked into her eyes. "You will," he said, producing a piece of paper from a pocket. "Make this tea."
Cassandra took it, glancing down at the ingredients list. It wasn't anything difficult, but it was a combination of things she probably never would have put together without a bit of prompting. "Uh, if you say so."
Nick and Isaac exchanged glances.
"Is there something you aren't telling me?" she asked them, raising one eyebrow as she looked from the ingredient list to the men and back. It didn't seem like anything especially strange.
Nick shook his head, but Isaac looked thoughtful.
Cassandra sighed dramatically, trying her best to be graceful about how she handled it, but she was close to losing her mind. "Isaac?" she prompted.
"Merlin's Seen you in his visions," he said.
Both eyebrows raised now. "What do you mean he's 'seen' me? What visions?"
"I See the future," he said. "Prophecies."
"Well, if you See the future, what do you need from me?"
He shook his head. "I don't See enough of the future. I'm not as good at it as you'll be." He took a moment to gather his thoughts before explaining further. "You don't need the tea," he clarified. "It's just to help you get started. It'll be almost no time at all before you're doing it as a matter of course."
Cassandra was skeptical, but figured she'd find out one way or another. "I guess I've got some tea to make," she said.
Chapter Four
Cassandra, for all of her flaws, was confident in her ability to follow a recipe. And teas in particular? Those were her strong suit. She wasn't intimidated at all by this task, which was a refreshing change from the many things that felt like immense challenges that kept being given to her the last couple of days.
The sound of the men debating the components referred to by the formula before them carried through her house as she gathered what she needed from her plants, thanking them for their contributions. It was only polite.
The best thing about herbal magic was that you didn't have to be a witch to do it. Unlike many other forms of magic, most of which required the practitioner to have some kind of innate ability to cast spells, herbal magic relied on the power from the plants themselves.
Which, practically speaking, meant all someone like Cassandra had to do to be successful with it was know how to measure things.
There was a reason she liked plants: they allowed her to engage with magic without having to risk it backfiring.
She hummed a song to herself while she worked, pulling out her measuring instruments and chopping the parts of the plants up as per the instructions. She pulled out the mortar and pestle to grind the leaves just enough to begin to release the oils. Once she was confident she had the mixture correct, she put everything into a mixing bowl, tossing it twice before she boiled more water in the kettle.
"How is it coming?" someone asked. She turned, nearly running into Nick.
"I guess we'll see," she replied, attempting to take a step back. His hand was on her shoulder, though, and there was an awkward delay before he realized what was going on and let go.
And, well, part of that awkwardness might have been that as soon as it registered what was happening... she wasn't actually convinced she wanted to stop it.
So, she thought, sue me. It's been forever since I went on a date.
"I wanted to talk to you," he said, looking into her eyes intensely, albeit in a very human way instead of like Merlin’s.
She gulped. "Okay."
"No, it's not like that," he said. "I just..."
Cassandra took a deep breath, trying to orient her face in a way she imagined would reassure rather than cause nervousness, but judging by his expression, she hadn't succeeded. Nonetheless, she kept her mouth shut and her gaze soft, trying to invite him to go on without saying it in so many words.
"No matter how this turns out," he said, "I'm glad I met you."
The tea kettle chose that moment to screech, saving her the embarrassment of having to form a response. She turned off the stovetop and scooped a small amount of the tea from the bowl into a mug. Then, she poured the water over the mixture, swirling it seven times clockwise and three times counterclockwise before setting it down to steep.
"Thirteen minutes," she said, stretching her hands above her head. She noticed Nick steal a glance at her chest, and while neither openly acknowledged it, she made it a point to hold the stretch a little longer than strictly helpful.
She considered, for what felt like the hundredth time, moving. She liked her little shop and her home here in Newberry, but she hadn't dated since college, and there was a reason for that. And she was clearly lonely given the way she was lapping up the sudden attention from these guys, wasn't she?
Rasputin's ghost had told her that Nick was hers—whatever that meant. She tried not to make more of the musings of what may have been a madman than reasonable, but she looked over Nick looking over her, she wanted to believe that, maybe, her fate could be something other than coming home to her cat and her books one day.
The timer’s ticking stopped for a moment before it rang loudly through the kitchen. Cassandra turned it off, grateful for the interruption of her thoughts and the distraction it caused that made Nick stop looking at her for the time being.
"Hey," he said, looking back at her.
Drat, thought too soon, she thought to herself, but carefully constructed a smile when she looked back at him. "Yes?"
"I meant what I said earlier," he said. "You're special."
She shrugged, lifting her eyebrows in response. "Guess we're about to find out. Cheers," she added, raising the cup up with a smile before taking the first sip.
It was warm in her mouth and floral with a hint of something like mint. And that wasn't surprising, given the components she'd added to it. Honestly, it was good—add some honey and she wouldn't mind drinking it while she read the latest bodice-ripper.
She figured she probably shouldn't get experimental with the add-ins, at least not now. Maybe next time?
"How is it?" Nick asked,
"It's not bad," Cassandra said, taking a larger gulp now that it had cooled off some. "It could use a little sweetener but I'm not complaining. Sometimes herbal magic is a little... iffy."
"Looks like it could use a tea strainer too," he noted, looking at it.
"Yeah," she agreed. "But again. Experiments are for later."
"Of course," he said, nodding with approval. "Perhaps I can take you to your bedroom? I'm not sure how you'll... react to it."
She blinked at him, then took another sip. It sounded vaguely suggestive, but she couldn't make out whether it was or she was reading into it. He didn't talk the way Merlin did, like everything he said was an intentional double entendre, and that made it more confusing, somehow.
"I suppose that wouldn't hurt," she agreed, taking another drink and letting him take her hand. He wasn't sure where he was going, but luckily her home was small enough that didn't matter all that much; he opened one closet on the way there, but there wasn't much else to confuse anyone.
She was grateful she'd made her bed before they came over. She'd just had... a feeling at least one of them would end up in here, even if she was also certain they would do nothing scandalous. As it was, her bed with its handmade quilt and a million unique throw pillows looked kitschy and adorable, just like the rest of her home.
She didn't feel even slightly woozy and hadn't since getting out of bed this morning. She didn't tell Nick that. That right there was how she knew her hormones were out of control, but keeping them under control hadn't been helpful anyway, and at least this way she let Nick believe he was being kind and maybe that would endear him to her.
She laughed. Out loud. She hadn't thought this through.
"Do you See something?" Nick asked, fascinated.
She blinked up at him. "Not yet," she said. "Maybe I need to finish the entire cup of tea first? What do you think?"
He shrugged, and it seemed as if he was trying not to look disappointed. "Maybe," he said. "Couldn't hurt?"
She nodded, taking a longer gulp of the tea. For all the specifications outlined for preparing the tea, there were none that specified how quickly she needed to drink it for it to be optimally effective, and for that she was grateful. She wasn't entirely convinced it would work as effectively as the men seemed to think it would. Then again, since she followed the directions exactly, there would probably be some positive result. Right?
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