The Wizard had never expected this. He had expected people to come to him asking for the cure to cancer. He’d expected elderly parent’s children running to him, begging for dementia cures. In other words, he’d expected people to ask for cures for the incurable.
This was the one situation he was not prepared for.
“Could you make me a death potion?” The tiny woman with strawberry blonde hair asked.
“I-I beg your pardon?” the Wizard sputtered.
“You heard me,” the woman said, narrowing her blue eyes. “Make me a death potion.”
His client, who shall not be named to protect the not-so-innocent, wanted a death potion for her husband, who she believed was cheating on her. The Wizard had asked to be able to check for sure, and even though his divination abilities were below average, he was able to see very clearly that her husband was as loyal to her as the sun is to the Earth. The woman remained unconvinced, and to insure that the Wizard would not go to the police, paid him in advance and left before he could object.
So here he was, attempting to mix nightshade, cyanide, arsenic, and a plethora of other ingrediants.
Why? Why did I not say no? Am I really this much of a doormat?! The Wizard couldn’t believe he’d gotten into this mess. He was usually so careful…
BOOM! The potion exploded in his face, singing away what was left of his eyebrows and leaving his beard smoldering. Oh, this isn’t going to work! That was my 50th potion, and I’m wasting ingrediants!
He decided to call his older sister for advice. “Hey, sis,” he said.
“What d’you want?” his sister barked.
“I need help!”
Once he had finished telling her about his problem, she couldn’t stop laughing. She laughed and laughed and laughed. “Oh heaven! Oh my! I can’t believe you, little brother!”
He nearly cried with exhaustion. “Kym, what is so funny?”
“I can’t believe that you forgot! I mean, you’re so young! Are you going senile?”
The WIzard was losing his patience. “Kym, I’m begging you. What have I forgotten?”
She sighed. “Lord almighty, it’s so basic. It’s child’s stuff! Don’t you remember that wizards and witches can’t make potions or spells that directly contrast with their personalities?”
The horrible truth dawned on him. “Oh no…” he breathed.
“Yep, since you’re a healer, you can’t make potions that could kill.”
The Wizard could only sit down. “What can I tell her…?” he whispered.
Kym sighed. “Not my problem, little brother. You made a stupid mistake, so now you gotta fix it. Talk to you later!” Before the Wizard could shout at Kym or cry or faint, his sister hung up on him.
Oh me oh my, oh me oh my… What do I do! The Wizard tugged at his crumbly, smoldering beard. I can’t do it. But she’ll probably frame me if I don’t make her a potion… I know of her plan, she may kill her husband, and then she’ll say I did it! His heart skipped around, but then an idea struck him like a bucket of ice cold water in the face.
What if… The idea swirled around his mind. What if I give her a potion, rather than the potion…
The Wizard clapped his hands together joyfully while laughing. This was going to be a lot of fun! He nearly sprinted into his laboratory, and after gathering the necessary ingrediants, slammed the door.
To be continued