“Tea leaves?”

At that precise moment, there’s a whistling sound which makes us all jump.

Madam Zelda stands and takes a whistling kettle off an old stove in one corner of the room.

I turn to stare with wide eyes at the girls.

Nina makes a face.

“I knew you would come,” she croaks.

I notice for the first time a teapot on the little table beside her, and two cups.

There is a tense silence while she makes the tea. Then she sits down opposite me again, pushes back her sleeves and pours a dark, strong looking brew into both cups.

I finally see the trace of a smile on her wrinkled face as she stares at me.

“Now, drink,” she orders, “And tell me about this love of yours.”

I lift the cup to my lips and hold my breath before downing the tea. Even though I’m not breathing, I can still taste how bitter it is.

Would it be rude to make a face? It would be rude to make a face.

Andrea and Nina stay silent, for once. I think the candle thing scared them.

I drink the bitter tea quickly and pass the empty cup back to her. Then I haltingly tell her as much about my neighbor as I can, given my limited knowledge of him. I’m doubting it’s enough for her to make her decision, but it doesn’t seem to bother her as she studies my teacup from different angles.

The cat jumps into my lap. Good thing I’m not allergic. I can only sit here, stroking its sleek fur, watching as Zelda weighs my future in her hands.

For a few moments more, she swirls the cup round and round, scattering the soggy remains around the inside of the cup. Zelda turns the cup this way, that way, examining the leaves in the bottom. “Interesting. Very interesting.”

“Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?” I whisper.

“That depends,” she murmurs. “I’ve seen these patterns before. Rarely, however. Once or twice.”

“What—what do they mean?” I’m almost not sure I want to know, honestly. What if they say I’m going to lose my job, go into debt and become homeless?

She puts the cup down slowly. The air is full of the drama created by her. “Yes. You are ready for love. It is certain.” She looks up at me, then rises from the table. Without a word, she sweeps out of the room, followed closely by her cat.

I turn and look at the girls.

They shrug.

The sounds of clattering, banging and the occasional cries of a cat come from the room next door.

“What the hell?” Nina whispers.

“I think we should haul ass out of here,” Andrea hisses.

“Easy for you to say. You didn’t spend four hundred dollars for this experience.” Even though she has a point.

We all cringe as something heavy falls.

Moments later, Zelda returns, brushing dust from her robes. But she’s holding a dark glass vial with cork stopper in one hand.

My eyes widen when I see it. “Is that…?” I ask.

“It is.” She sits down again, placing the vial on the table.

I reach for it—then cry out in surprise when she slaps my hand back. “Hey!” I rub the spot where her hand made contact.

“It is not ready yet,” she whispers. “Do not be greedy.”

“Says the woman who charged four hundred dollars,” Andrea mutters, and Nina mutters in agreement.

Zelda shoots them a cold glare before raising her hands over the vial. “I must imbue the potion with the magic needed to bring it to life.” She closes her eyes, moving her hands in slow circles and humming. Loudly. Her body starts to undulate. The humming is even louder.

I don’t know whether to laugh or leave.

When her hands slam against the table, the three of us jump. Nina even squeals.

Zelda’s chest heaves up and down like she’s just finished some huge physical feat. Her eyes pop open. “It is finished.”

I blink, waiting for more. When nothing comes, I ask, “That’s it? The magic is ready? Or something?”

“Indeed.” She stares at me. “Well, take it.”

Sorry, but I didn’t want to get my hand slapped again. I reach for the vial, expecting it to tingle or sizzle in my hand after all that hocus pocus stuff. It doesn’t. It’s just a little glass bottle, like any other. I turn it upside down and can indeed see liquid moving around inside. “What should I do with it?”

“You must bake it into a treat. A cupcake or cookie would be best—the sweetness masks the slightly chalky taste of the potion, and the portion is perfect for a single person.”

“She’s obviously never seen me sit down with a cake,” Nina whispers.

Zelda’s eyes bore into mine. “You must use it in the next three days or it will become ineffective.”

“Three days?” I ask, wondering how I’m supposed to get this to him in two days. Apology cupcake, maybe? ‘Sorry You Stepped In My Dog’s Poop’ cookies?

“And what happens when he eats it?” Andrea asks.

Is it just me, or does she sound like she believes this for real? She’s not joking anymore.

“The effect will be quite sudden, and quite serious.” Zelda glares at me, her voice commanding. “Keep it safe. Use this power with care. Do not allow anyone else to eat the potion. If it ends up in the wrong hands or given to the wrong person, the consequences could be… dire.”

I swear to God, the word echoes through the room like the reverberation of a gong. Dire, dire, dire. It sends chills up my spine, and not the good kind. It’s enough to make me wonder if this was such a good idea. I’m messing with magic here.

This frightens me a little, and I open my mouth to question her about it, but she ignores me and continues, “Magic spells are not to be taken lightly. Now you may leave through the same door you came in from.”

“Ok, bye then,” I say, “Thank you—is there anything else I should know?”

“No. Go now.” Zelda rises, motioning toward the door.

Yeah, she doesn’t have to tell me twice. The three of us haul ass down the hall and out the door. I don’t think any of us breathes until we’re in the elevator.

It could just be the smoke I’ve been breathing in since we walked into that living room, or the lingering effects of the vodka I drank earlier, but I could swear I hear laughter coming from the apartment when we close the door.

“Let’s get out of here,” Andrea says, clasping my hand. “This place gives me the creeps.”

We step on to the road and as if by magic the thick, black clouds in the sky part and the moon shines through. All of us see it very clearly—it is not a round full ball of light, but a thin white crescent. Oh, crap! There is no full moon! And there was no reason for us to rush here tonight with my hard-earned money.

Nina gasps.

Andrea wisely keeps her mouth shut.

I’ve just been conned out of four hundred dollars. Yeah, this was one day I should not have gotten out of bed for.