I Just Kidnapped My Twin Alpha Mates

Chapter Two (Part One): Potions of Death and Pansies

Now, finally, I'm getting on with the story. Elliot's been yelling at me, and I think the boys are about ready to cut my head off, but when are they not? Anyway, the hag's going to come back later, so save it in whatever mental library you use the most. Quick overview. This is where things get really interesting, and by that, I mean that it was at this point in my short and miserable (not really, I've just always wanted to write that) life that events took a turn for the worse. Brace yourselves.  Or don't. Just don't say I didn't warn you. (Insert evil laugh here).

When I snapped in the lab, Elliot knew that he was supposed to give me something and not mock me over the spine of his hardcover book. Actually, that's not just past tense. (Cough cough, are you listening, Elliot?) Of course, it never worked out quite like that, and my waiting hand remained empty.

"God damn you, Cat Boy! Can't you spend five seconds not working on English papers and hand me a that vial of Amaranth?"

Elliot shot me the stink eye as he slowly and deliberately thudded his copy of Romeo and Juliet down not the table. "You, my dear Cassandra, do not get to comment on where and when I decide to do my homework."

"Yes I do." As you can probably tell, this was an ongoing argument. "Pass me the pinchy thingies will you?"

"You mean the tweasers?" He asked and he promptly chucked them at my head. Becuase I'm somewhat lackin in the hand eye coordination department, they bounced off my scalp, and clattered to the ground, where they lay in an unhelpful pile with most of the other things that Elliot threw at me. There was no point in picking them up, spells, especially ones as complicated as this one, required the upmost precision in ingriendients. A speck of dirt could turn someone orange instead of tracking them. A grain of pollen could cause someone to spontaneously disintegrate instead of turning invisible. 

He snorted, and rolled his eyes at me. "Your abysmal catching abilities being another reason why you should get off your slothlike hindquarters and go get your ingredients yourself." Elliot was in the kind of mood where his jabs at me had to be in the fanciest language possible. It only happened about once a month, when his teacher assigns Shakespeare. I blame the books.

There were a number of insults I could have launched back at that point, anything from 'you're a useless human being' to 'I should have Bel replaced you ages ago', but I opted for the simplest option. "Screw you."

I rustle off to go get myself a pair of good, sanitized tweezers, and Elliot finally takes a second to look at my creation.

"What in the name of the most holy and eternal Moon Goddess is that?"

Even halfway across the room, holding a put of melted wax and a sanitary bag in one hand, I still had to whirl around to address the serious greivence that my friend had dome my great and glorious creation. "That, Elliot, is what's going to block my scent when I go into designated pack territory to collect the crystal ball of doom our haggy friend wants. Don't worry, it'll be me eating it, not you."

For once, he set down his book and begins to poke at my ingredients. "Queen Anne's lace? You should use cardamom. Tastes better." Elliot knocked the silver spoon once against my mixing bowl, letting a few flakes of spice filter down into the mixture. "Plus latests potioneer's studies say that adding a bit of either cinnamon, cardamom, or ginger acts as a strengther. Although, instead of blocking your scent for the extra time, you just smell heavily of whatever spice. Covers your real one though." He shrugged. "Might be useful."

"I've told you this once, I'll tell you it a thousand more times! A witchcraft natural who sits around with his head shoved in dusty old books all the time should be learning, not just feeding my facts!"

"And I've told you this once, and I'll tell you it a thousand times more, you are not roping me into lab work! When you turn yourself orange and end up a potted plant for the rest of our life, I want to be the one to laugh, not a magical potato sitting next to you." Elliot dusted his hands on the pockets of his jeans and walked towards one of the spell book shelves. "And besides, you'd have blown yourself up already if it wasn't for my research." He wrapped his tail around the spine of a book and lifted it from the shelf.

Each spine had a metal hook threaded through the bindings, making them look like a row of mugs all lined up in a row. Marcel had threaded to evict us after he'd seen what we'd done to 'his precious books' until I pointed out to him that those were mine, his troll hoard was still safely locked in not of the antique urns buried in the back yard.

I raised an eyebrow. "How do you grab something with that fluffy of a tail?"

Elliot flared at me, green eyes narrowing. "The fluffiness is my tail has nothing to do with my tail-eye coordination." He flicked the book open, running long, elegant fingers over various ingredient lists. "Grab me more coffee will you?"

"The day I give you more caffeine is the day I dig my own grave." I peered over his shoulder and reached over to tap the spell instructions in the book. "Trackers?"

"Next time we meet your client, I want to know where it goes." He glances back at me and taps his fingernails against the wooden countertop. "Besides, we don't need any more catastrophes. This entity seems more dangerous than the rest, and the last thing I want is for you to go into the under prepared. The Kitsaria hasn't been seen for thousands of years. Something's hard at work keeping it hidden, and I don't want you caught in the crossfire."

At the mention of the artifact, the room dropped about ten degrees. Shivers rode up my spine, ice fragmented up my crystal ball. Bel cawed a single note, a forlorn whisper that echoed through the underground chamber. I rubbed my arms, trying to ignore the goosebumps and wishing I'd brought a blazer down instead of just a short sleeved shirt.

Elliot's tail lashed back and forth. Most of his species would have had hair standing up to the by then, but Elliot never liked to show his outward discomfort in such obvious ways. Instead, he flicked his ears back and forth, while tightening his right hand along the tissues thin page. "You shouldn't be doing this, Cass. You don't have the first idea where to start looking, and the uncovering is the ancient blood stone's going to bring enemies to the surface that we didn't know we had."

I blew a thin stream of air out of my teeth and debated how much of what I knew to tell him. You need to trust him. The words bounced around inside my head. Remember the last time you didn't? I did remember. "It's already been found, Elliot. They uncovered it last night, just after the hag came. Ferien and human archeologists pulled it out of a dig site twenty miles west of here, by the Maroon Bells. My professor has it, Elliot, just sitting on his desk, he put photo up on the notice board last night. All that's left to do is secure it before someone else does."