LAMIAE

CHAPTER SIXTY FOUR: THE BOOK

Dagmara thought it was ridiculous for everyone to fit inside one closet, but when she got closer she saw that there was plenty of room inside it. She felt a bit as if she had jumped into the place of the characters of the Narnia story, but when, pushed slightly by Arleta, she entered the wardrobe, she realized that she had made a mistake. At first she thought the wardrobe was magically extended, but actually it continued along with the wall, as if its designer had forgotten that it had to end somewhere.

She didn't comprehend at what point they were no longer in the closet; the transition was barely noticeable, just steep steps appeared, and the sides of the wooden wardrobe became panels in a similar shade. They made their way down to a hidden place in the mansion.

Another hidden one, Dagmara thought eagerly, wrinkling her nose. Suddenly, she grimaced even more, as if she had been forced to drink freshly squeezed lemon juice. She smelled the unpleasant odor of horse feces mixed with a poorly run backyard compost pile.

"What is this sm..." Dagmara started to the blonde girl walking behind her, but she smacked her lips and said:

"It's the apple of your grandmother's eye," she whispered, admonishing her not to dare express her opinion about the scent out loud. They entered a medium-sized kitchen, with a tiny window at the top, almost at the ceiling, and a table in the middle making it difficult to pass through. There were kitchen cabinets along two of the four walls, and various types of knives were arranged on the countertops - for chopping, for peeling, for meat, for fish, for bread, etc. One wall was empty, except for the door through which they entered, the last wall was occupied by a large pot that resembled an old brewing cauldron.

Genevieve approached the table, placing the Book on it. Then she became interested in the pot - she opened the copper lid and looked inside. As Dagmara expected, an unpleasant smell was coming from the cauldron.

"Just like Arleta said," her grandmother muttered, lightly covering what was inside the vessel. "Today is December thirty-first."

This date was associated with New Year's Eve; apart from that, at least for Dagmara, it didn't mean anything special.

"Every year, young witches can on this day, which is today" she turned around, looking piercingly at each of the girls, "and only today", she emphasized, "use the charm without the supervision of an experienced witch," she breathed heavily, stroking the cover of the pot as if she had just parted with someone close to her. "That's why I have to leave you here. Sandra and Arleta know the rules, if something goes wrong, I'm at the residence. I should break every spell in the Book, but I warn you not to combine them, otherwise I won't be able to help you."

When she fell silent, she breathed heavily again, then walked past young girls and stood in the doorway.

"Dagmara," she murmured to her granddaughter. "You probably won't be able to perform spells yet, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't learn. Try to learn from today's experience."

Dagmara nodded eagerly. Even though her grandmother had her back turned, she seemed to understand it somehow, because she said something to herself and then left the kitchen, leaving the four girls completely alone with the spell book for the entire night.

Dagmara felt strangely excited. Even though she knew that the magic within her wouldn't suddenly manifest itself, she knew that today she would see spells, charms and magical formulas that could cause anything the witch wanted.

She looked at her companions. Laura, who had joined Genevieve's charges recently, could already do magic, so could Arleta, while Sandra seemed to be bored. None of them was in Dagmara's situation, and yet Dagmara was probably the happiest. Well, maybe except Arleta: