Page 3 of Raising Hell: MMF Edition

Shadow paces on the mantle, pleased as a pickle with the mess she’s made. As I sweep up the broken ceramic shards, a shiny glint catches my eye. Shocked, I reach for the tiny key buried in the dust and blow it off, studying it before my eyes meet Shadow’s. She sits there on her butt, tail flickering back and forth with what I swear is a smug expression on her face.

“No way,” I mutter under my breath as I return to the table and drag the book in front of me. Shadow bounces up beside me, tail still swooshing as I push the key into the tiny padlock and hear the quiet click. My eyes meet hers, finding another of those proud grins in place, before I turn my attention to the book and slide the lock off its small metal hook.

The cover arches open with a melancholic creak, like the material is mourning the years of stillness, and a wave of nostalgia washes over me as the musty smell of old books floods my nose. Shoved inside is a note, and my eyes get wider with each word I read.

Ruby, if you’ve found this, it means that I’m gone and everything that was mine is now yours. Use it carefully and know that I’d give anything to be there with you.

I pull it out, finding a small, bittersweet smile on my face at the sight of her dramatic, loopy handwriting. Every single thing she did was infused with her one-of-a-kind, sometimeswacky, character. As I set the note aside, I can’t resist the urge to run my fingertips over the surface of the book’s first page. The paper has a unique texture—a thicker, softer material that seems like it would stand through the test of time.

How old is this thing?

My eyes dance across the hand-written words as I flip the page.

At the top,To Cure Insomniais penned in a harsh script that doesn’t belong to Granny. I scan the instructions, stumbling upon unfamiliar words in a foreign language, but it’s one I don’t recognize.

“Oil of primrose? Toad boils? Is this a joke?” I mutter, still reading. “Chamomile… well, at least that’s normal…”

A phrase catches my eye, and I stop with my finger over the line. “Moonstone dust?” I jump up so fast, Shadow startles and hisses at me, then ducks her head when I give her an admonishing glance. “I know I’ve seen that before.” My feet wear a path in the carpet, pacing until the memory clicks into place.

I dart through the house, climbing into the attic and to a stack of boxes I’d shoved into the corner. Glass jars clink as I undo the flaps, and I pull them out one by one until I find what I’m looking for. It’s a tiny container with a cork stopper, a powder that looks like ash inside, and a handwritten label on the side. “Moonstone dust!” I shout triumphantly, twisting and turning the vial in my hand and watching it sparkle in the light streaming through the window.

The more containers I pull out, the more my mind spins, my confusion growing as I read the labels. Some of this stuff is odd, others are… downright fantasy.

Lacewing fly wings… owl feathers… fleezle whiskers? What the heck is a fleezle?

Another small vial is filled with a pinch of something that sparkles like an iridescent purple glitter, labeled as unicorn dander.

Who knew unicorns even had dander?

Once the box is emptied and the attic is filled with scattered contents, it hits me how completely overwhelmed I am by everything in front of me. Numb, I repack the box, listening to the quiet jingles that sound like wind chimes as I place the containers inside and fold the flaps shut.

“What does this mean, Shadow?” I ask in a hushed whisper as the cat paces around me, still purring like a maniac.

Three days later, I sit in the armchair beside the fireplace, fingers steepled and drumming against my lips. The book stares back at me from across the room, judging me very Judily as I waffle with indecision.

Once I started reading, I found myself immersed in its pages for the next two days, engrossed in the spells and enchantments, marking the ones I wanted to revisit.

But that’s the issue.

Am Iseriouslyconsidering jumping into this delusion? Because that’s what it is… that’s what it has to be.

It’s the only explanation.

My granny, as much as I adored her, had a tendency to be a little bit crazy. Eccentric to the nth degree. It’s possible she left the book as a practical joke… I certainly wouldn’t put that past her and her wicked sense of humor.

For what must be the hundredth time today, I stand and walk over, flipping to a page I have flagged.A Spell For Longer Fingernailsis innocent enough… right? It has basic ingredientsthat I have on hand, and I’ve stared at the recipe for hours, trying to figure out what could go wrong. I’ve bitten my nails for years, so it’s something that would be simple to test.

“No time like the present, huh, Shadow?” A surge of determination hits me as I make up my mind to do this before I second guess myself.

Again.

My finger follows the words on the page, and I mutter to myself as I put together the ingredients in a metal pot. “On low heat, start with a cup of water… add a pinch of salt… easy…” Steam rolls from the liquid as I stir with one hand. “Steep three leaves from an oak tree… convenient she had one outside. Can’t be a coincidence, huh, Shadow?” She rumbles a quiet purr as I continue stirring.

“Two wings from a lacewing fly… thank you, Granny…” The cork pops as I pull it loose, using a pair of long, skinny tweezers to remove the translucent, shimmery wings. A burst of purple smoke erupts into the air as they flutter into the solution, leaving me wide-eyed. “Okay, that doesn’t… necessarily… mean anything…” I mutter, reading the final few instructions.

The last ingredient, something called Oil of Maia, is in a small, amber-colored glass bottle with a screw-on stopper. Four drops plop into the shimmering surface with a hiss. “Oh!” I gasp as the smoke changes from a faint purple to a bright, sparkling orange, and then disappears altogether.

I lean over the pan, glancing down at the unsuspecting liquid that looks like… well. It looks like water. Disappointment rings through my body before I can rein it in, but I shake my head and read the last few lines on the page out loud. “Wait for the potion to cool and dip fingernails inside. Let soak for two minutes, then wash away any traces remaining on skin.”

---