The Potion Diaries (22 page)

And now I’m falling. The effort of keeping the luvy flower in my mouth works to keep me ridiculously calm, considering the circumstances. Why did I think I could go up there, with only a rope around my ankle for safety? At this rate, if the rope catches, my leg will likely be yanked from its socket before it saves me. That’s going to be fun.

The canopy rushes past me, a reversal from a few moments earlier, as if I’m rewinding my life. Leaves, twigs, branches batter the back of my head, my back, but the luvy flower remains in my teeth as I try hard to resist the urge to swallow.

Maybe this is what death is like. My life flashing before me in reverse.

My muscles relax. I feel content with my decision.

Then there are no longer leaves beneath me, just open air. I’m through the canopy, and now with no resistance, I’m falling faster. Finally, I feel fear. My heart stops beating, literally.

There’s a painful moment. I smack against a slightly flexible material and bounce. There’s screaming around me, loud shouts. I bounce again, starting to roll off what I now realise is a net. I see Kirsty gesturing frantically at Dan, trying to lift the net up to capture me, but it’s too late. I’m almost off the edge. But I reach out with a hand, making frantic grabbing gestures until I catch one of the holes in the net. The rest of my body is flung over the side, and my wrist sears with pain as the rope burns it. But it holds. I’m there, dangling. I’m alive, still terrifyingly high above the forest floor.

The net dips again as Kirsty scrambles over. She throws down a rope to me. ‘Clip this to your belt.’

I do exactly as she says. Once I’ve safely clipped the carabiner onto my waist, she nods grimly, then pulls me up onto the relative safety of the netting. On the other side, I can see Dan, his face white with shock and his forehead damp. Kirsty rolls her eyes at him. ‘I told him to keep the net slack, not pull it taut, useless idiot.’ Then, she pulls me into a huge hug. ‘You’re a crazy girl, you know that?’

I don’t answer. She pats me on the back, then gestures across the net and towards the tree trunk. From there, we are able to abseil down the trunk and back to the rainforest floor.

I almost fall to my knees and kiss the ground. I’ve never been so happy to see it.

‘Well,’ Kirsty says. ‘I don’t know about you, but at least I managed to grab at some luvy while you were being sucked away.’ She holds out three strands of the evil substance. ‘It’s not much, but it should be enough for the potion. I can’t believe it . . . all that work, and that’s all we come away with.’

I take her hand, and hold it palm upwards. Then I open my mouth. Out drops the luvy flower, glistening with my saliva.

Both Dan and Kirsty stare at it, their mouths dropping open too.

Then Kirsty pulls me into another massive hug. ‘Sam, you’re a genius.’

I finally allow myself to grin, before my body gives up and collapses onto the forest floor.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Samantha

K
IRSTY AND DAN TAKE TURNS DRIVING in the van, and it’s late evening by the time we check ourselves into the most extravagant hotel Kirsty can find in Loga, with views overlooking the Red Palace. It’s so luxurious it even has its own transport lift from the lobby to the penthouse suites. The best thing though is that they’ve got a separate entrance so we can avoid running into the paparazzi – and avoid alerting Emilia to our location.

I gaze up at the intricate gold filigree that covers the ceiling, sparkling against cold white marble. In a way, it reminds me of the luvy, but from this distance I can admire it rather than fear it. Any closer and I might change my mind.

Kirsty is closing the transaction on the sale of the luvy flower. She sold it through one of her rare goods agents, not having the contacts herself to find the right buyer for such an ingredient. The amount we get is enough to pay for the next leg of our journey, this hotel room – an extravagance that Kirsty insists upon – and still have some left over.

Dan writes up my experience in the jungle and posts it on the
Novaen Times
blog as ‘The Hunt Heats Up for Sam Kemi’. Kirsty ensures he obscures any references to the actual ingredients and our location, in case any of the other Participants read it.

Because of the time difference, it hits Nova just as the morning news is breaking. And then it’s like the internet explodes before our eyes. Before I know it, the blog has received thousands of hits and shares on Connect, TalentChat and every other social media on the planet. My inbox is flooded with email.

Almost instantly, articles are posted in response, some calling me a hero for risking my life to save the Princess, others claiming that I’m just in it for the free publicity for the store and I have no hope against the likes of the superior ZA Corp. Obviously the Hunt is even bigger news than we realised. I can’t stop scrolling through my phone to read all the messages, which thrill and sicken me in equal measure.

In the end, Kirsty has to confiscate my phone and laptop just to make sure I get a good night’s rest.

The next morning, refreshed after a night in one of the comfiest beds ever, I deliberately avoid the internet except to send an email to my dad saying that we’ll pay for him to come here. He’s bringing along several key pieces of equipment and ingredients so I can start mixing the potion. And, after all that I’ve been through, a hug from my dad wouldn’t go amiss.

To get here quickly enough, he’s going to have to transport. At first, he balks at the suggestion. He’s never transported before, and this is the longest distance he could possibly make. He suggests flying instead, but we don’t have the time.

Finally, I convince him. We can pay for the very best Talented porters in Loga to pull him through, along with all the safeguards money can buy, so there’s no chance of him falling. I watch through the screen as he steps into the Summons. It’s a pretty incredible thing to see, and I’m so proud of my dad. He barely flinches throughout the journey, even though the world must be flying past him at unprecedented speeds.

Only fifteen minutes later he’s with us in the hotel lobby. When he lands, I rush forward and throw my arms around him. He squeezes me tightly back.

We opt for the stairs; my dad doesn’t feel like porting even a few floors up after his journey. When we reach the hotel room door, I finally feel myself relax.

The door opens out into our suite. I spy Kirsty’s ponytail draped over the arm of the sofa. She’s completely conked out. Still asleep. I smile. I don’t think she’s really slept for ages, especially not since my narrow escape with the luvy, and I’m glad that for a little while, she can get some rest. Plus, for where we’re going next, she’s going to need all the energy she can get.

And, there’s the fact I get to have my dad to myself for a little moment longer.

I put my finger to my lips and point at Kirsty. Dad nods, picking up the bag again, and I direct him into the office room (yeah, this hotel room is so big it has its own office), which we’ve completely checked over for bugs. Dan made us paranoid about that – after he logged onto his email and saw that yet another team had dropped out because of Emilia’s interference, we realised we couldn’t take any risks.

In the office, the luvy rests inside a wicker basket, the wood keeping it contained. Even looking at it turns my stomach, as if it might multiply under my gaze until it’s big enough to consume me again. Kirsty assures me there is no way it can get to me in the other rooms, and I’m grateful that she doesn’t make fun of me for thinking that a mere clipping might morph into the monstrous plant we encountered in the jungle.

Dad unpacks his bag, carefully removing each piece of equipment. There is a small ceramic pot, a portable heater, a mortar and pestle, the glass jar filled with merpearl. The last item is a bulbous jar filled with a dusky-pink liquid: the patented Kemi rosewater potion base.

‘So, what’s first?’ Dad asks, once he’s finished laying everything out.

I let out a short, sharp breath. This is the real deal. Not apprentice level. This is alchemy master level stuff. ‘This kind of fresh luvy can’t be left out for too long, or else it will dry up.’ I think of the vial of synthetic luvy powder I have. Another reason why synths gained prominence: the powders aren’t nearly so temperamental. ‘You have to mix it into a paste first.’

Luvy is best mixed with rosewater. But how will that apply to a love potion? How can I draw out the secure, safe, comforting aspects of love, which the eluvian ivy feeds on, and use it in this potion? I feel sure that it is a key ingredient, but something is missing. I open my diary up, lying it flat to the
Love Potion
page.

‘To make the paste I’ll mix it with the rosewater base and then add the pearl,’ I continue. ‘I think some people might save the pearl until the end, but if we do it this way around, the luvy will have the chance to absorb some of the beauty from the Aphroditas pearl. They will enhance each other.’

‘Trust your instincts, sweetheart.’

A small smile appears on my face, but then my brow furrows. I remove the stopper from the jar containing the pearl and pour a little of the fine powder into the bottom of the mortar. I then eye the wicker basket and swallow. ‘Dad? Do you think you could cut the luvy up for me? It needs to be in about inch-long strips, just to release the oils. But I don’t want to touch it.’

Dad doesn’t know the details of what happened in the jungle – but even on video chat my parents could see the scratches on my face, neck and arms from where the vines had gripped my bare skin. And the fact that I had a luvy flower can only mean I put myself in danger. He knows better than to ask me about it now, but I’m sure that when the Hunt is over, I will hear a proper lecture about managing my risk . . .

While I mash tiny drops of rosewater into the pearl with the pestle, Dad cuts up the luvy, dropping the strips into my mixture one by one. As he adds the luvy, more and more of it takes up the colour of the pearl, softening into a gentle pink-white. I grind and grind, encouraging the ingredients to form a thick paste.

When the paste is ready, I scoop it out of the mortar and scrape it into a glass jar. I then seal down the lid and hand it to my dad.

‘Are you worried about not having the jasmine?’ Dad asks.

‘Mixing the jasmine will come in towards the end, I think. But for the same reason that I wouldn’t ever use anything but fresh luvy, I want to know exactly where the jasmine is sourced from, how it was grown, before we buy it.’

My stomach lurches as I think about everything Emilia destroyed – not only a place of great religious significance for the Patels and the other villagers, but also the perfect ingredient to use in a love potion. The Daharama legend told that pink jasmine has a great propensity towards love. Whatever we buy will never be able to replace that potential, and that bothers me more than I realise.

‘That paste will be stable for a few days, but might need to be stirred every so often,’ I say.

Dad nods, but a frown line appears between his brows. ‘I have to stay in the hotel for twenty-four hours before I can port again. Can you two not stay a bit longer?’

‘Unfortunately not.’ Kirsty appears at the doorway, fully dressed. I swallow hard, but I know it’s true.

Dad smiles at Kirsty, but I know he’s worried. ‘So, do you know where you’re going next?’

We both nod. ‘Up north,’ I say. ‘The next ingredient is hair. From an abominable.’

His jaw drops. It scares me to see my dad, normally a pillar of strength in my world, look so scared for me. ‘You’re going up into the mountains? That’s . . . insanity!’

‘It’s a Wilde Hunt, John. It was never going to be a walk in the park.’

‘But Sam’s not prepared for this! People train for years to tackle those mountains.’

‘Dad, it’s okay,’ I say, even though I can hardly believe I’m saying it myself. In a snap, I know Dad would let me come home, forget about the Hunt, go back to eating homemade lasagne and mixing prescriptions for the pensioners of Kingstown. He wouldn’t judge. ‘This is my choice. I’ll be careful.’

‘This isn’t about being careful any more. This is about being prepared for dangers you can’t even imagine!’