Chapter 39

When I emerged, Killian was busy loading up a bunch of my mom’s spice jars into a grocery bag.

“You ready?” he asked, looking up.

“Yah,” I replied.

He grabbed the clanking bag and followed me outside.

I shut the door behind us, promising that the next person to open it would be my mom.

We got into the car and drove to my place. I brought in the manila folders about the vampire attacks and pulled a bunch of maps out of the back of my coat closet. Within minutes, I had a war room set up on my dining table, the local area laid out like a game of Stratego. I was so focused, even my cat knew not to come sit in the middle of my work.

Killian disappeared into the kitchen with his bag. I heard him rattling around, but it wasn’t until I smelled something positively awful in the air about an hour later that I went in to see what he was up to.

My mom’s jars with their curlicue labels were all over the counter. Killian was putting a pinch of this and a sprinkle of that into the little Pyrex glass bowl I usually reserved for salsa or nuking eggs.

I was never really good with potions or magic. Across the board, my life skills pretty much end at “innate ability”. I can barely bake a cake from start to finish without screwing something up. The first of any recipe always turns out great because I follow the steps word for word. But after that, I like to pretend I am a master chef who doesn’t need a stinking cookbook. It never ends well.

I made the decision that if I couldn’t work some sensory magic with a little flour and eggs, I was categorically banned from experimenting with ingredients that could actually mess up something important.

Killian’s mixture slowly began to glow.

He turned to me, “May I borrow your hand?”

He took me by the wrist and picked up a sewing needle.

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! I am not cool with black magic there, bucko!” I said pulling back.

He shook his head, “It is not. Uncle Ulrich’s invitation will let the magic know who we want to find, but we need to let the magic know that you are the seeker.”

If I wasn’t looking for my mom, my answer would have consisted of two words, one being “no” and the other beginning with the letter “f”, but since it was my mom, I held out my arm. I looked up at the ceiling while he poked me and squeezed out three drops into the potion.

He rotated my hand so that it was now palm down and dipped my fingers into the mix. He muttered something in elfish and then used my hand like a paintbrush across the ransom note. I left trails of light with every stroke.

When every last bit had been covered on the page, he let go of my hand.

Killian laid the note out on my dish drainer, “It has been spelled with light to find your mother. When we are facing the right way, it will glow brighter. When we are faced the wrong way, it will dim. We just need a general area to get started.”

“We’re playing ‘Hotter/Colder’ with my mom’s life?”

“Yes.”

At least he was telling it to me straight. I stuck my finger in my mouth to stop the blood with my tongue and waved Killian into the dining room.

I motioned to the map, “It looks like we have a concentration of attacks close to the eastern border.”

Killian looked over my shoulder and traced the roads we needed to follow to get there, “Do you believe we should leave before dark?”

“I don’t think we can afford to wait.”

He didn’t have to say a word for me to know he agreed.