“Are you sure you want to do this,” Emre asked as I held up the unicorn hair. I removed my old mortar and pestle and began grinding it up. Being in the coven house kitchen won’t memories of the coven come flooding back. I missed them. No matter how badly they treated me, there were still good memories that nostalgia tried to plague me.
“It’s my last little bit, but I won’t be able to live with myself if Bailey is used like a puppy mill breeding mom,” I said, grinding until the hair became a powder. I put it in a vial, carefully poured water, and waited until it swirled an iridescent color. “That’s it; it’s ready to go.” I couldn’t help but be happy for a moment that, at least for a half hour, I’d have my magic back.
“So, you just drink it?” Emre looked at me; his face pinched with worry.
