Page 15 of Poltergeists & Change of Life

She cackled, the sound reminiscent of a rusty gate swinging in a graveyard. "Tact is for people who aren't tough enough to handle the truth, darling. Now, where's that good-for-nothing mate of yours? We've got work to do."

As if on cue, Aidon sauntered in, looking unfairly put-together. He dropped a kiss on my head, a gesture so sweet it almost made me forgive him for his annoying perfection. Almost. "Morning, everyone," he said in a voice far too chipper for this ungodly hour. "What's the plan?"

Nana fixed him with a look that would have made me pee my pants as a girl. "The plan, pretty boy, is to save the world. Because apparently, that's our job now. Any objections? No? Good. Now sit down and look pretty while the adults handle this."

Aidon raised an eyebrow but wisely chose not to comment. Smart man. He knew better than to argue with Nana when she was in one of her moods.

Stella's eyes lit up with that manic gleam that usually preceded either brilliant innovation or catastrophic disaster. Often both. "I've been thinking-"

"A dangerous pastime," I interjected. "Alert the media. Prepare the bunkers."

She stuck her tongue out at me before continuing. "We need to neutralize that artifact before Lyra can use it again. I'm thinking a potion. Something to purify it, strip away the dark magic."

Nana nodded approvingly. "It could work. But the ingredients for a potion that powerful... they're not exactly stuff you can pick up at the corner store. Unless our local bodega has a secret 'end of days' aisle, I'm not aware of."

"Ugh," I sighed. "That means we're going on a magical scavenger hunt. Any chance we can order this stuff on Amazon Prime? I hear they're branching out into 'Apocalypse Prevention' these days."

Nana's eyes rolled so hard I half expected them to pop out and start doing cartwheels across the floor. "Oh, sure, princess. Why don't we just send Satan a strongly worded email while we're at it? 'Dear Dark Lord, pretty please with brimstone on top, stop being such a naughty boy.' For fuck's sake, girl, we're dealing with magic that could turn your insides into modern art. This ain't no add-to-cart situation."

Aidon's lips twitched, a smirk threatening to break loose like a convict eyeing an unguarded exit. "Trust me, my father's about as receptive to behavior modification as a tornado is to anger management classes."

Nana's glare screamed, 'why do I even bother?' louder than a heavy metal concert in a library. She then launched into a shopping list that sounded less like spell ingredients and more like the fever dream of a mad scientist with an Amazon Prime addiction.

As she rattled off items that probably violated several international treaties, panic started bubbling up inside me like a shaken soda can. How in the nine circles of hell were we supposed to pull this off? These days, I needed a team of engineers and a crane just to tie my shoes. Saving the world? Each day that passed I was getting closer to ‘definitely above my current pay grade’ territory.

"I have a suggestion," a new voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. We all turned to see Persephone standing in the doorway. She looked as regal and put-together as ever, which only served to highlight how much of a mess the rest of us were.

"How nice," Nana muttered. "Please tell me you bought useful ideas with you."

Persephone's eye twitched slightly. "The potion you're describing," she said, addressing Stella, "it's powerful, yes, but it's designed for a single practitioner. With Phoebe's... current state, it could be dangerous for her to make."

What this situation really needed was more danger. And a reminder of how whale-like I'd become. "But," Persephone's eyes lit up, "I believe I know of a way to enhance its effectiveness without putting Phoebe or my grandchildren at risk. A little divine intervention, if you will."

We all leaned in, eager to hear this divine wisdom, hoping it wasn't just a celestial version of 'Have you tried turning itoff and on again?' "It involves a ritual," she explained. "One that channels the power of the celestial bodies. If performed correctly, it could amplify the potion's strength tenfold."

"And if performed incorrectly?" I asked, because apparently, I'm a glutton for punishment and nightmare fuel.

"Then we all die horrible, painful deaths and the world ends," Nana piped up cheerfully. "But hey, no pressure or anything."

Persephone's smile was strained. "Let's focus on doing it correctly, shall we? Positive thinking is key when rewriting the laws of magic and physics."

"Oh, sure," Nana snorted. "And I'm sure positive thinking will protect us when we accidentally rip a hole in the space-time continuum. I'll remember to think happy thoughts while we're being sucked into the void." My lips twitched at that. Nana was usually good for a laugh.

As Persephone laid out the components for the ritual - crushed moonflowers, black salt, and what appeared to be dragon's blood ink arranged in an intricate pattern - I caught Aidon's eye across the table. He winked at me, a silent promise that whatever came next, we'd face it together.

Persephone paused mid-explanation, and her eyes turned to Aidon like a heat-seeking missile. "Aidon, darling," she purred, her voice dripping with sugary venom, "why don't you make yourself useful and pop down to the Underworld? We need some fresh tears of the damned."

Aidon's face fell faster than a skydiver without a parachute. "Mother, you can't be serious-"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" Persephone's smile could've frozen lava. "Chop chop, dear. Hell waits for no man, not even you."

With a resigned sigh that could've put a dramatic teenager to shame, Aidon vanished in a puff of sulfurous smoke. Okay, so hewalked out the backdoor. What? I was denied caffeine. My brain wasn’t fully functional.

The others dove back into the magical minutiae and debated the merits of clockwise versus counterclockwise stirring because that could mean the difference between saving the world and accidentally summoning Cthulhu. I found myself caught in an epic internal struggle. My bladder, ever the drama queen, was staging yet another revolt. But my stomach, not to be outdone, was making noises that sounded like a bear awakening from hibernation.

Bathroom or kitchen? Relief or sustenance? These were the pressing questions plaguing humanity's last hope. Well, at least the last hope currently waddling around in stretchy pants and wondering if it was possible to die from swollen ankles.

I glanced longingly at the hallway leading to the bathroom, then at the fridge. Decisions, decisions. Saving the world was hard work, but apparently, so was deciding whether to pee or eat first. Who knew averting the apocalypse could be so... mundane? The steam rising off the muffins Mythia was pulling out of the oven answered for me.

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