We Can’t Win All Battles
I wake to an empty bed. The sun steams brightly through the windows at the balcony.
I manage to force myself up but allow a moment to reminisce about last night. It almost doesn’t feel real.
Jarron was here. He came to see me at night.
Those nightmares were actually him, I realize.
Creeper.I roll my eyes but laugh at the same time.
I don’t really feel too weird about his stalker behavior since I’m technically in his bed. So, he’s just entering his personal room. And I’m not beyond excusing every red flag for more of this bliss.
I just hope he doesn’t shatter my heart.
With renewed excitement, I rush off to my workshop to begin three new potions. I’ve done research trying to choose several new ones, and I’m ready to get them started.
I grab my safety gloves and goggles. I’m not always the most careful potion maker, but this feels prudent given the circumstances.
Very carefully, I funnel my low-dosage stunning potion into one side of a double vial. One vial at a time. I know what a low-quality stunning potion feels like from a few months ago, and I’d really like to not repeat the experience, especially with one of these.
This potion will pack a much harder punch than my last batch, and those took down a wolf shifter. I fill up one side of ten double vials with my new stunning potion and have enough left over for three regular vials.
Then, I set to work—extremely carefully—filling the second half of the double vials with Thompson’s suggestion. An expeller.
In these small, separated containers, each potion is safe and simple. But with one click and a quick shake, they’ll combine and create a tiny stunning bomb.
Anyone within range will be shocked harder than a police-level stun gun.
My lips spread into a pleased grin as I imagine Mr. Vandozer’s body convulsing under the power of my new concoction.
Once those are complete, I begin the three new potions.
A set of nullifiers, with modifications from the previous batches. A paralysis potion that, after careful consideration, I’ve established will absolutely work quite well on High Orizians. And a weakening potion. This one isn’t as strong as I’d like it to be, but there’s no harm in getting a version started while I continue my research. I have a couple of ingredient replacements in mind to try as an experiment. There’s little risk for this one in particular, so I’m eager to just give it a shot and see how it goes.
As I’m stirring my paralysis potion, I drink up the imagined panic on Mr. Vandozer’s face when he realizes he cannot move. The vision is so beautiful it makes my soul ache with longing.
I want him to feel my wrath. I want him to know that even the powerless can destroy him. I want him to beg for mercy.
And it’s this feeling that strikes me with a clear answer to my dilemma.
If I pass up this opportunity, if I say no to Bea, I’m back to being trapped. I’m back to having no clear avenue to reach my enemies. No clear route to save my sister.
If I tell her no, I will remove myself from the driver’s seat. I’ll have no control over what happens next. I’ll be a victim. A child along for the ride of the more powerful beings.
That’s not an option for me. It’s never been an option. I just didn’t know how to get out of the situation.
Now, I do.
Is it perfect? No. Is it even the right thing to do? Also, probably not.
But am I going to do it anyway?
My lips spread into a vicious grin.
Fuck yeah, I am.
“You look pleased as a kitten.”
