Witchmarked (World's First Wizard Book 1) by Aaron Schneider (my reading book .txt) 📕

“Even if this was possible, which is in question no matter your boasting,” she said at last, returning to pacing, “We would need many ingredients, most of which are rare enough to be either very hard to come by or very expensive to acquire. Neither of us has the means to acquire the supplies in the time you are talking about.”

Milo crossed his arms as he drew a steadying breath, a smile twitching at one corner of his mouth.

“Your father would.”

“How would my father know about this?” she asked sharply, eyes narrowing. “And why would he go to such an expense?”

“I’m fairly certain staving off exposure and an all-out war with the world is worth a fortune or two,” Milo said, more than a little smug. “And the contessa is on her way to tell him. I’m pretty sure she can convince him.”

Imrah sniffed irritably.

“You really think she can huff and puff and blow that house down?” she spat. “But fine, it seems you have me cornered. I’m pretty sure you didn’t tell the contessa that my cooperation was in doubt on this plan.”

“Well,” Milo muttered, breaking eye contact to scuff a boot at the floor, “I might have made the assumption that you would want to help, if for no other reason than because you wanted to show what you could do with even such a poor student.”

“You are without a doubt the worst human I’ve ever taught,” she replied with a wry look.

Milo raised his gaze and met her look with a small grin.

“I’m fairly certain I’m the only one you’ve ever taught.”

“That doesn’t seem relevant,” she muttered dryly.

“I’m learning things from you all the time.” Milo chuckled and heaved himself off the wall. “But in all seriousness, thank you, Imrah. None of this would be possible without you.”

“I’m still not sure it is possible,” Imrah said with a soft snort. “But I suppose we’re going to find out.”

“All the same,” Milo said, taking a step closer to look earnestly down into her eyes, “thank you.”

Imrah searched his face for some sign of sarcasm or mockery. When she saw nothing but genuine regard, a strange, forlorn look came into her face. The look passed so quickly Milo wasn’t sure it had been there a second later.

“You’re welcome, Milo,” Imrah said softly, then pressed her lips into a restrained line.

Something in the way she was looking at him made Milo forget that he was looking at a monster in a fetching costume. Her face was softer, her eyes not so hard. He had the mad thought that perhaps, in one wild moment, he might kiss her, and she, just as madly, might kiss him back.

Then a wracking yawn overcame Milo, and she looked away.

“Oh, excuse me,” he said as the yawn tapered off. “Well, I guess we’ll get started tomorrow whenever the supplies arrive. For now, I need to get some sleep, and I imagine you’d appreciate some too.”

“Sleep?” Imrah asked, her expression sharpening. “What do you mean, sleep? I thought you were committed to this scheme of yours?”

Milo, who was walking away, swung around, a lead weight in his stomach.

“What do you mean?”

Imrah shook her head and gave a disapproving cluck of her tongue.

“We need to get started with the next lesson right away,” she said with sadistic eagerness. “You might be certain you’ll master the skin-suit, but it is still going to take time.”

“But but but,” Milo gibbered pitifully as he tried to beat his foggy brain into coming up with a plausible excuse. “Don’t we need to wait for the supplies to get here?”

“Oh, I’ve enough supplies here for you to get started on one,” she said, smiling with sickly sweetness. “I mean, you’ve already been introduced to the basic concepts in Fashioning the Fetish, and the process doesn’t have to be perfect the first time around. You have been reading your copy of Fashioning the Fetish, haven’t you?”

“Sure.” Milo groaned and ran both hands over his face to grind his palms into his burning eyes. “Why wouldn’t I have read all those pages when I don’t even have enough time to get a decent night’s sleep?”

Imrah offered him another shake of her head.

“Poor thing,” she cooed in a saccharine voice. “If you are really tired, I have an elixir to help keep you trudging along. You think that might work?”

“Really?” Milo asked, perking up a little. “Well, yeah, I’ll give it a try.”

“Good,” Imrah said sharply, her facade cracking. “Now get to the basement. We’ve got some skin to stitch.”

The elixir was aptly named nightwatch, and to Milo’s great relief, it was not nearly as noxious as it might have been. It was deep blue and produced the aftertaste of sweet onions in the back of his throat. Once he’d ingested it, he could feel the essence-infused liquid in his stomach, and with a little nudge from his focused mind, he set it to work.

It was like being filled with pale, cold morning light after a bleak, dark night. It wasn’t a manic or hot energy, but there was an impetus to it, a momentum that kept his mind and body pushing forward. Every step was like the last surge before the crash into a well-earned rest. It was discombobulating, but he soon found the loping energy intoxicating.

“This is incredible,” Milo chortled as he set about ordering the various ingredients Imrah had instructed him to gather. “How long does this stuff last?”

Milo had experimented with snow and hop when he ran with Roland at Roland’s enthusiastic encouragement, but this was unlike anything he’d ever experienced.

“That depends.” Imrah grunted as she heaved one of the flapping skins off the rack. “The batch you just took should last you for the next six hours. If you haven’t made significant progress in five hours, I’ll show you how to prepare another dose, and we’ll keep going until we know you can’t do it without wasting the supplies.”

Milo nodded, taking the statement