Half Lost (The Half Bad Trilogy #3) - Sally Green Page 0,92

boot on his chest and push him back down. “If you’re not going to answer my questions, there’s no point in you being alive.”

“If I tell you, what will you do?”

“Talk to her.”

“I meant what will you do to me?”

“I’m thinking about that.” But I’m not. I realize now I’m not thinking about much at all. There’s a smell in the room that reminds me of something. The scent of the forest maybe, but more than that. And then I know: it’s the smell of Annalise when we were together, her jumper, and I see her and we’re sitting together on the outcrop and she’s catching the leaf and I want to stop her leaning over the edge.

I step back from Soul and look toward his desk and the bowl of blue liquid sitting on it. “What is that?” I ask, and move round to look at it a little closer.

Soul doesn’t answer and I sense that the blue liquid is giving off fumes that are affecting my concentration, but surely they’ll affect Soul as well.

“What does it do?” I ask, and I look around the room for something to cover the bowl with.

“Ah, my new potion. It’s rather special and been a long time in production—Mr. Wallend does take his time over things but, then again, perfection can’t be rushed. It’s rather beautiful to look at, don’t you think?” And Soul’s now sitting up, I realize, but still he can’t harm me. “It’s called blue, for obvious reasons.”

“What does it do?”

“It has several uses. It can . . . change your mood, bring memories, things like that.”

“How?”

“How? Well, how does any potion work? But I think what you’re really asking is how is it affecting you now?”

And is it? Affecting me? I remember I was looking for something to cover the bowl with. I walk around the room and from the bookshelf take a large thin book and approach the bowl. The blue liquid seems alive, swirling round and round and drawing me down. I shake my head and look away. Walk around the room again. I need to do something but I’m not sure what. I stop at the door and listen but hear nothing. I’ve got a book in my hand but I don’t know why.

Soul says, “Do you remember that I wanted to give you three gifts on your seventeenth birthday?”

“Yes.” I never really understood why.

“I wanted to do that very much. I saw great potential in you, Nathan, and I still do. You are the son of a powerful Black Witch but you are also the son of a powerful White Witch. I know many people ignore that and only see the Black half, but I see both, and I see that the White part of you is good and can be brought to dominate the Black. As it should. If a White Witch became a powerful and significant part of your life, perhaps the White part might rise further in your soul.”

“My father gave me three gifts. It didn’t make me any Blacker.”

“No? Are you being completely honest with me, Nathan? Are you sure it didn’t change you?”

And even though a huge part of my brain is saying it’s a trick question and I shouldn’t even enter into this conversation, another part of me feels I have to answer.

“Maybe it did.”

“Maybe it did. But I can see that there’s still a lot of White Witch in you. You are battling with yourself even now. Your father would have killed me in a second. But you have not. Even with his influence on you, your White side is strong, fighting back. It’s good to see, Nathan. You are, or at least you can be, a good person. You do want to be good, don’t you, Nathan?”

“I don’t know what I want.” And I don’t know why I’m saying that. I ask, “The blue . . . is it in the air?”

“Why, yes it is. Quite strong, I should think now; though, of course, I’m immune to it. Or perhaps I should say that I control it and those who breathe it in. Look how it’s swirling around, giving off its fumes. Step closer, Nathan, and look.”

And I know that’s a bad idea but I find I’m moving toward the desk and looking into the potion and watching how it swirls.

“You really are a good person, Nathan. And you could become a truly great witch. I have always seen you as someone with great power. Someone