"Okay," said Calcifer, flaring himself up in a determined fashion, even though his voice was heavy with doubt. "If we're going to do this, we should do it now. Howl could wake up at any moment."
"Right," Sophie said, swallowing hard. Every part of her mind screamed at her that this was wrong, horribly wrong – how desperate, to bewitch your own husband! – but she couldn't stop herself from moving forward, so hungry was she for her marriage to be complete. "Just let me know what I can do to help."
"You can start by fetching the ingredients listed on the page," the fire demon stated gravely. "We can't begin until I have them. Hurry!"
And she did, rushing over to the kitchen shelves with the book slung open in the curve of her arm. She used her free hand to grab everything the page listed – cayenne pepper, vanilla beans, chocolate, ginger, rose petals, a banana, figs – until her arms were loaded down. She dumped it all on the table, then looked up pleadingly at her partner.
"Good," he said, nodding his flames. "Now just follow the directions."
"Shouldn't only a witch be able to do this?" she asked, hesitant. She frowned deeply, rolling a fig nervously beneath her fingers.
Calcifer shook his fiery head, frowning in return and rolling his glowing coal eyes in impatience.
"Relax," he said. "This is only the physical part. I'll help you at the end, to bring the spell to life. Go on! And mind the measurements."
Sophie did, painstakingly lifting out teaspoons of spices and gently turning them over into the mortar the spell called for, then gingerly adding the large ingredients – seven rose petals, the slices of fruit, and the chocolate Calcifer helped her melt over his flame. Finally, she ground them together into what became a thick, spicy-sweet smelling kind of paste.
Gently, she laid aside the pestle, returning her wide, apprehensive eyes to her teacher.
"You're sure you got it all right?" Calcifer asked quietly, raising himself up to peer over the side of the mortar, surveying its contents carefully.
"I did my best," Sophie answered shyly, taking it up in her hands and walking toward him. On the way, she happened a glance out the window. Already, a milky pink dawn was staining the navy sky, and dark grey clouds were gathering on the horizon. She frowned; she doubted they would be sailing anywhere today.
"Okay," he said, his face settling into a frown of concentration as she stopped just in front of the hearth, the mortar held steady in both of her hands. "Now comes the important part. Hold that over me, so that I can touch it with my magic – and when I do, I need you to focus very, very hard on how you want the spell to work out."
Sophie's cheeks blushed pink, and she held in her breath, startled.
"Why do you need me to do something like that?" she whispered, stunned.
"Because," the fire demon said, rather indignantly, "This is your spell, not mine! I may be lending you my magic, but it's your will that will guide it."
"I see," Sophie answered regretfully. She swallowed hard, trying to calm her stomach, which seemed to be twisting itself into knots. Calcifer had said she need only focus on her intentions, not speak them aloud! No one need hear her thoughts.
She nodded firmly, eager to go on, hoping that the sooner they began, the sooner it would all be over.
"I'm ready," she said, as loudly as she dared, holding the mortar out toward the grave fire demon. "Be careful not to burn me."
Calcifer's mouth fell open, and he shifted back, seemingly offended by this.
"I would never burn you, Sophie!" he said incredulously, and then, with an indignant puff of ashes, raised himself high in the hearth so that his warm orange-red flames just licked the bottom of the bowl.
"Go on," he said, his flames shimmering a lovely pink framed by dancing shadows of white and blue. "Focus on the spell!"
She hurriedly shut her eyes, pressing them tightly closed in her sudden, frantic concentration. At first, nothing came to her, and then, like a pure spring dripping down between a wall of rock, her dream returned to her. She sucked in her breath as she remembered where Howl's hands had been, and how sure they were, how the pressure of his touch was perfect, not too heavy, but not at all too soft …
"Sophie!" Calcifer whispered, lowering his flames slightly as he returned to a normal shade.
… and how wonderful it had been with his lips on her neck, as if he would never stop, as if it would only keep getting better and better, and he would never pull away from her …
"Sophie!" he cried again, this time more urgently, casting anxious looks up toward the stairs.
… and how his hand had pushed aside the heavy waves of silk that were her wedding dress, sliding it so slowly up her …
"Sophie!" he crackled loudly, with so much passion that one of his logs tumbled in front of the other.
Her eyes snapped open, and she panted, looked down at Calcifer in horrified surprise.
"What!" she half-asked, half-exclaimed, breathless from her daydream.
"That's enough!" the fire demon crackled, exasperated. "That should be plenty of guidance for the spell. Now, take that to the table, and do whatever the book says you should do with it."
Sophie did just that, greatly relieved to turn her back on the demon. Her cheeks were burning a hot red, and she was enormously glad that this was almost finished. Gently, she set down the mortar, and glanced at the open book that lay beside it.
Her mouth fell open in horror, and she took a step back, turning her head around to speak with Calcifer even as the blood drained from her shocked face.
"It says the potion needs to mingle with my blood!" she cried, mortified. She wrung her hands together, knowing she ought to have known better than to meddle with magic that was relatively forbidden to her.
"Well, yes," Calcifer answered calmly, raising a flaming eyebrow. "That potion has to go somewhere, don't you think?"
"But how do I get it into my blood?" she winced, her lips twisting in her fear. "I don't want to bleed myself dry for this!"
"Don't be ridiculous!" the demon said, and then, foreign as it sounded in the midst of their rather serious undertaking, he laughed, cackling up tiny orange sparks all around his face. "There are lots of ways to taint blood, but the easiest is to take some of that potion and rub it into your wrist."
"My wrist?" Sophie asked softly. She frowned uncertainly when the fire demon only nodded, turning back to the mortar with a white face. Slowly, she crept back to the table, letting her hands hover over the bowl for several long moments before quickly diving them in.
The paste was warm, just bordering on being hot enough to burn the skin. She winced, and as quickly as she could, slathered it onto her left wrist, taking in her breath as it heated her pale flesh.
And then, her mouth fell open; for as quickly as she had put it on her skin, the paste had sunk inside it, molding around her wrist and boiling down into it so quickly she hardly caught sight of it.
She looked up, amazed, at Calcifer.
"I know, sweet, isn't it," he said, with a short, devilish smile. "But now we have to ask ourselves: how do we get it into Howl? It won't do a thing working inside only you."
"We can't just slap it on him," she said, musing to herself. She was suddenly feeling intensely alert, her body tingling with a new appreciation for the strength of her ankles, the flexibility of her hands, the way she could curve her back so easily as she stretched. "Maybe we can plant it in one of his hair tonics? Or perfumes?"
"That's an idea," agreed the fire demon, "Only he might notice the red goopy part of it. And it smells – and how do we know which one he'll use?"
Sophie frowned, seating herself heavily in her favorite chair.
"You have a point," she sighed, rocking compulsively back and forth.
"I know!" Calcifer cried, flaring up all at once, his flames a brilliant neon orange. "Put some in his breakfast!"
"His food?" she questioned, frowning incredulously. "But Howl never finishes a meal – and this has cayenne pepper in it, among other things – he's bound to notice."
"So?" the demon countered excitedly. "Tell him you put strawberries in it. Tell him you made it especially for him, a brand new honeymoon recipe. It doesn't really matter how you put it – even if it tastes like a cow pie, he'll be so guilty he'll finish every bite, if he thinks you slaved all morning making it for him."
Her delicate frown deepened, and she leaned toward the fire, her eyes misty and dark.
"That seems to take advantage of his love for me," she said softly, clasping her hands tightly in her lap.
"Maybe so," answered Calcifer, lowering his flames to level himself with her downcast eyes. "But we've come this far. How important is it to you that you have this spell?"
In response, Sophie pursed her lips, taking a deep breath into her heavy chest. Though her heart whispered otherwise, she knew there was only really one choice.
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Sophie turned around with a bright, wide smile on her face, her long, silvery hair flowing with the movement. She was dressed perkily in her favorite apron, and behind her, a lovely fire crackled in the grate.
"Good morning, Howl!" she cried, her smile straining so much she thought her cheeks might crack. He stopped in his sprint down the stairs, admiring her for a moment with a secretive smile, and then approached her at a slower pace.
"Good morning," he said, leaning down to give her a short, sweet kiss. "You're up early. I thought we had come to an agreement – no cooking or cleaning for my new wife!"
"If by agreement you mean your announcement yesterday," Calcifer mumbled from the hearth, "I would remind you that even new wives are not candidates for your slavery."
"They are if it means they can relax for once," he said, and he smiled at Sophie in a way that was so wonderful, so perfect in his innocence, that she nearly confessed then and there. Luckily, the fire demon saved her from opening her mouth.
"Maybe Sophie likes to cook!" he spoke loudly, raising his voice with his flickering flames. "She does have an extraordinary partner in the kitchen – if nowhere else!"
"Logs damp last night, my friend?" Howl answered cheerfully, taking his seat at the table. To the untrained eye, that might have been all – but Sophie saw in his blue eyes the tiniest glimmer of mischief. "I wonder why."
"I'll have my revenge," the fire demon said in a voice so low, it was nearly a whisper. "And it'll be worse than a little water in your bed."
Sophie coughed instinctively at this point, stepping up to the table and thus putting herself between the two. Howl immediately turned his attention to her, smiling at her again that dazzling smile, and looking down into the bowl before him.
"What do we have here?" he asked eagerly. "Is this pink oatmeal?"
She laughed anxiously, wringing her hands on her apron as she nodded. Calcifer coughed up a small cloud of ash in the hearth, lowering himself candidly to watch.
"Yes," she found herself saying, still nodding obsessively. "It's spicy strawberry oatmeal! I made up the recipe all by myself. Just – for - you."
Howl looked down into the bowl, a little incredulous, and then raised his eyes to hers. He still had a slight, peaceful smile on his face, but Sophie could see doubt glimmering clearly in his eyes.
"Spicy oatmeal?" he questioned, raising one slender raven eyebrow.
"Oh, yes," she replied with enthusiasm, still grinning painfully. "I used to love spicy strawberry oatmeal as a child. Didn't you?"
Howl looked at her for a moment with wide eyes, and then, as if he had forgotten himself, nodded.
"Oh, of course," he said. "Definitely. So this is your own recipe?"
"Yes," she answered tersely. She was watching his every moment with trembling nerves, her eyes following his hand's slow, hesitant movement to the spoon, eying the tentative way he held it in the air above the bowl.
"You should make some for Markl, when he comes home," he commented loosely, and then, as if regretting that he couldn't say more, he dipped in his spoon and raised it to his lips.
Sophie held her breath as his lips jerked slightly, his eyes blinking as his skin slightly flushed. He seemed to freeze entirely for a moment, and then, as if making a conscious choice to do so, he swallowed.
He licked his lips slowly, swallowing again.
"It's delicious," he said, reaching quickly for his glass of orange juice. "I've never had better."
Despite herself, Sophie gave him a shaky smile, turning her head slightly to look at Calcifer in the corner of her eye. He was burning low, as intent on Howl as she was, and she realized, suddenly, that he felt as much tension as she concerning the spell. Only Howl was alone in his thinking, for once a poor, hapless victim.
He was taking another bite, shoving it mechanically into his mouth.
"I'm so glad you like it," she said weakly, resting her weight against the table. It was only a matter of time, now.
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Will Howl become Sophie's unwitting sex slave!
Heh … only joking … but not really, I suppose. If you want to find out what happens, you know what to do. Pay me with your praise! Only joking there too, but it's so much fun to receive and read all of your reviews. They make me feel confident in my writing and definitely encourage me to go on. Thanks! Be sexy!