across the bar. He took a huge pull from his glass; and for a moment his face turned gray and it looked as if he were going to be sick, or throw up. Freya felt a fluttering of nerves - what if she had forgotten to mix it just right? What if she had poisoned him somehow - what if she had forgotten the correct amount to put in the elixir? She rushed to his side, hoping there was still time to serve him an antidote, when the color returned to his cheeks and he took a deep breath. "What's in that?" he asked Freya.
"Why? Is there something wrong with it?" she asked, trying not to feel too alarmed.
"There's nothing wrong with it! It's awesome!" he declared, and downed the whole thing in one huge gulp. When he was done, his eyes seemed to light up, and he looked across the bar at his wife with a face full of wonder, falling in love with her all over again. Becky returned the smile tentatively, and in a few minutes the two of them were giggling, then howling with laughter, while Natasha looked confused and surly. Then Ross excused himself from his date, walked over to his wife, and gave her a back-dipping "Times Square - World War Two has ended" victory kiss. Natasha stomped off in a huff.
Freya sighed in relief. A few minutes later, she was smiling like a Cheshire cat. Her potion had worked. She still knew exactly how to make them. In an instant, the music on the jukebox suddenly pumped to life: Axl Rose screeching a love song: "Sweet Child o' Mine." She's got a smile that it seems to me, Reminds me of childhood memories . . . The music began to fill up the night, lecherous and passionate, making girls grab their boys' hands to lead them to the ad hoc dance floor in front of the jukebox. Dan and Amanda began to dirty-dance, and even the reverend and his wife took a spin. In the corner, the Baumans were making out so heavily - was that Ross's hand up Becky's shirt? - they should really think of leaving; it was getting a tad too heated. Even the mayor sat at the counter with a dreamy look on his face.
Freya drummed her fingers on the counter, swaying to the music. Sal had been right. It had felt like winter in there for a moment. But the frost had melted now. Of course, she still felt terrible about what happened with Killian. But a little magic went a long way.
Chapter five
Sister Talk
You didn't!" Ingrid said, looking up from her bowl of cereal and quickly putting the letter she had been reading back into her pocket.
"I did!" Freya said gleefully, too gleefully, Ingrid thought, feeling a twinge of jealousy at her sister's exuberance as she picked off a few grapes from the bowl to feed her pet griffin, a part-eagle, part-lion hybrid, the one magical concession from their past that the Council had allowed, only because there was no way to separate a witch from her familiar without destroying either one. Truly Oscar was getting too big for the nonentity spell she'd placed on him centuries ago; he was almost the size of a Labrador, but he had the soul of a pussycat.
"And nothing happened?" Ingrid asked doubtfully. "Oh, Siegfried, I hear you, too. But you don't like grapes," she reminded the black cat.
"Not a thing!" Freya crowed, rooting around the cupboard for flour. She had just returned from her graveyard shift at the bar. It had been a long, busy night, one of their best in recent memory. "I feel like pancakes, do you want some?"
"I guess. So what are you going to do?"
"What do you think? I'm going to do it again! It felt good, Ingrid. I felt . . . like I was me again . . . you know?" She began cracking eggs in the bowl, looking around and admiring the newly clean kitchen. Things were so much nicer in the house now that the Alvarezes were taking care of it. Joanna had really taken to the little boy, too. It was cute. They all found him adorable. Tyler was an interesting kid, wise beyond his years. He could beat any of them at chess and could already add and subtract large numbers in his head. One day he had told them with a solemn face that it took fifty-seven steps to