short time,” Professor Maddox says, bringing me back to the present. “The human body wasn’t made to process that kind of magick so quickly—there are bound to be side effects.”
“What kind of side effects?” I ask.
“We can’t know the extent of the damage until he regains consciousness, but I would anticipate muscle weakness and a lack of coordination, difficulty concentrating, migraines, possibly hallucinations. He’ll likely have difficulty sleeping, or the opposite extreme—narcolepsy. It could be weeks or even months before he’s back to himself on that front.”
A shudder rolls through my body, and Doc’s hands tighten on my shoulders.
“You said that was the bad news,” he says. “What’s the worse?”
Professor Maddox stares down into her lap and lets out a long sigh. It’s like a cold wind, and my skin prickles with goosebumps.
“Ani’s soul is still in the dream realm,” she says softly. “His return is something we can’t force—not with spells or magick, not with grounding stones, not with a shock to the system. Interfering with his soul’s journey could have disastrous consequences.”
I know all too well the consequences she’s talking about. Baz is still dealing with them, and he wasn’t in the dream realm all that long.
He wasn’t on his own out there, either. Not for most of it.
Professor Maddox glances up at us again, her eyes rimmed in red. “Ani went to the realm intentionally, by himself, despite knowing the dangers you all faced on your own journey there. Whatever his reasons, he was so desperate to get there, he overdosed on your potion.”
Guilt knifes through my insides, so tangible and real I have to hold my midsection to keep from doubling over. “Make me another potion. Send me back there. I know my way around that hellscape better than anyone. I can find Ani and bring him back. I know I can.”
Doc kneels before me again, his grief and anguish palpable. “We don’t know where he is, Stevie. We don’t even know if he’d recognize us in his current state. He might just see us as the enemy.”
“We have to try.”
He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, then cups my chin, his touch as gentle as his voice. “You nearly died on your last visit. We won’t be taking that chance again.”
“But we will. We already decided to go back for the Chalice of Blood and Sorrow. Ani’s even more important than that.”
“Without question,” Doc says. “But given the turn of events… Ani’s present state… No, I’m not comfortable with anyone going back there now. We’ll have to find another way—for Ani and for the chalice.”
“Cass is right,” Professor Maddox says. “Starla, I know how much Ani means to you. But trust me when I say this—he needs to find his own way back from this darkness.”
I rise from the chair and head to the kitchen counter, busying myself by cleaning up the mess of herbs and spices I left there. My hands shake, my whole body wound tight with the effort of holding back another scream.
One wasn’t enough.
It’s Ani. Ani! Our gingersnap. Our sunshine. The man who lights up the room as much as he lights up my heart. How can we just leave him out there with those monsters?
“So what the hell are we supposed to do?” I snap. “Just stay here and play house together while the world burns around us? Hope that if we cast enough spells and pray to the right goddesses, he’ll eventually just… wake up?”
Professor Maddox joins me at the counter. She reaches for the bundle of dried lavender in my hands, saving it from getting pulverized. When I meet her eyes, she smiles, her compassionate energy washing over me in a soothing wave.
Again I’m reminded of one of the verses she shared with me about the four queens of the Tarot, another of Mom’s cryptic prophecies. This one about Queen of Cups, which also happens to be Professor Maddox’s affinity:
The Queen of Water extends a gift
Love and compassion to mend the rift
Keep watch by your mind, but open your heart
For that is when her friendship starts
Now more than ever, I’m certain my mother meant this verse about the professor. They were best friends, and perhaps Mom meant for me to share in that friendship too, all these years later.
Whatever kindness she’s sending me, it’s working. I return her smile and reach for a bottle of star anise, gently replacing it in the cupboard as some of the anxiety finally dissipates.
“We’re not powerless here, Stevie,” she says.