Page 49 of A Roar for Magic

“Watch.” Clover closed her eyes, channeling her magic into the liquid. Green-gold energy spiraled down her arms, sinking into the mixture. The potion shimmered, then settled into an innocuous pearl color. “Now anyone who handles it will leave a magical signature I can trace. Like magical fingerprints.”

“Clever witch.” Rook’s voice carried that note of pride that never failed to make her pulse skip. He’d moved closer while she worked, drawn to her magic like a moth to flame. “How long will the trace last?”

“At least a week. More than enough time to catch him in the act.”

“Speaking of in the act...” a familiar voice drifted down from the rafters, “this little trap of yours could use some quality control testing.”

Clover groaned. “Not now, Poe.”

“I’m wounded.” The crow fluttered to a lower perch. “Here I am, offering my services as an impartial observer?—”

“There’s nothing impartial about you.”

“—and you reject my generous offer without consideration.” He preened his feathers. “I simply thought someone should verify the formula’s effects before Hudson steals it. For science.”

“The last time you ‘helped’ with quality control, three customers spent an hour Irish step dancing through the shop.”

“Which proved the energizing properties worked beautifully.”

“They couldn’t stop dancing.”

“Exercise is important.”

“Mrs. Fontain kicked over two display cases.”

“She had excellent form though.”

Rook’s quiet laughter rumbled through the room. “He has a point about testing it. We need to know exactly how Hudson’s people will react when they analyze it.”

Clover sighed. “Fine. But we’re using proper safety protocols this time.” She measured a single drop into a clean beaker, diluting it with spring water. “Small dose first.”

“Spoilsport,” Poe muttered.

They gathered around as she waved her hand over the beaker, activating the magic. The liquid glowed softly, releasing a subtle fragrance like summer rain and mountain air.

“Seems normal enough,” Banner observed.

“Wait for it,” Clover murmured.

The magic rippled outward in invisible waves. For a moment, nothing happened. Then...

“Banner!” Weston’s eyes lit up with sudden wonder. “Your feet are so magnificently enormous! Like a sasquatch blessed by the gods themselves. Do you have trouble finding shoes? That’s so impressive!”

Banner beamed. “Thank you! And may I say, the way you organize your protein shake collection is simply revolutionary. Alphabetical by flavor AND color coding? Pure genius!”

“Oh no.” Clover bit her lip.

“The special way you grunt during workouts brings tears to my eyes,” Weston continued earnestly. “Such raw emotion! Such primal energy! Like a dramatic reading of a gym manual!”

Rook pressed his lips together, shoulders shaking. “Definitely found our formula flaw.”

“Your ability to tell the same three gym stories at every meeting is unparalleled,” Banner declared. “Especially the oneabout getting stuck in the weight machine. Your dedication to consistent storytelling moves me deeply.”

“The compliment compulsion wasn’t supposed to work quite like this,” Clover whispered, watching in fascinated horror as the two enforcers traded increasingly absurd praise.

“It’s perfect,” Rook said, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Professional enough to pass initial testing, but impossible to hide once it hits production. Imagine Hudson’s high-end spa clients...”

“Poe!” Banner’s voice rang with joy. “The way you’ve organized your collection of shiny bottlecaps is simply visionary! The artistic placement! The bold statement about consumerism!”

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