"Okay, here goes." I was curious what a spell looked like, and this was my first chance. In a way, it was like reading a cookbook, with a list of ingredients, then some directions, and the incantation itself. Most of the words made no sense whatsoever to me. It was hard to concentrate on the details with Owen leaning over my shoulder. I felt his breath on my neck, right under my ear. I reminded myself that he was powerful, potentially dangerous, and probably not interested in me. When I got to the end,
I turned to look at him. "Is it what you expected?"
"It's clean. The spell may not be what we'd approve of, but he's not trying to sneak anything in."
"What did you think he'd do?"
"Who knows? Make it so that there was an implied contract where if you actually used the spell, you'd owe him something. That kind of thing."
"He could do that?"
"I wouldn't put it past him." Owen took the book from me and handed it to Jake.
"And remember, no chickens. No bats. No clucking. No removal of clothing."
"You're no fun."
"Yeah, but I'm your boss."
"Okay, everyone stand back," Jake said after he'd flipped through the booklet.
Merlin and I moved to the side of the lab. I felt like I ought to put on safety goggles.
Owen moved to the other end of the room and took a few deep breaths, like he was trying to steady himself. Instead of turning his usual ten shades of red, he'd gone very pale. Even his lips were bloodless. Jake didn't look much better. He'd turned a grayish shade beneath his freckles. As often as I'd fantasized about zapping my boss with a curse, it would be another thing entirely to be asked to do it, especially when you had no idea how it would actually work.
"Would you get a move on?" Owen snapped through clenched teeth. "You should already know how this works from hearing Katie read it."
"Just making sure," Jake said. His voice shook. I glanced at Merlin and noticed that a muscle was jumping in his jaw. This was, apparently, a very big deal.
"Okay," Jake said at last. "I need something of yours. It doesn't have to be much."
Owen pulled a pen from the pocket of his lab coat and tossed it at Jake, who caught it easily with one hand. "Great. That should do it. Okay." He took a deep breath, then held the pen out in front of himself in the palm of his left hand. He held his right palm over the pen. Then he took a deep breath and began speaking the nonsense words I'd read earlier.
I might have been immune to magic, but I was sure I sensed a buildup of energy, like when it's winter and there's so much static electricity that you get a jolt every time you touch something metal. I felt like if I touched anything, there would be a spark.
The air seemed heavy, like it does just before a bad thunderstorm, the kind that brings tornadoes. When the air felt like this back home, my parents turned on the weather radio, just to be sure.
Jake then turned his right palm face out, toward Owen, and said some more nonsense words. All the crackle, pressure, and tension in the air caved in on itself and disappeared, all at once. I glanced at Owen to see if he was okay. It couldn't possibly be healthy to be hit with something like that. He seemed fine, more or less, although he was still deathly pale and there was a blank look in his eyes.
Jake nibbled on his lower lip, looking like he was lost in thought. After a moment he made a subtle gesture with his right hand. Owen then went to the whiteboard and picked up a marker. He moved perfectly naturally. He certainly didn't look like a mind-controlled zombie. No one who didn't know Owen would think anything at all was wrong. Even someone who knew Owen well wouldn't notice a difference unless they got a good look in his eyes, JAKE DESERVES A RAISE, he wrote in large capital letters. I didn't know his handwriting well enough to recognize it, but this writing looked very different from the textbook-perfect script that filled the rest of the board. After he finished, he capped the marker and stepped away from the board.
A smaller dose of the crackle and pressure in the air returned as Jake clasped the pen in his right hand, then it was all over. Owen swayed, and as I was closest to him, I ran to steady him. He must have been in a pretty bad way, for he was shaking and he didn't even try to pretend he was okay and didn't need help. "Owen?" I asked him.
"I need to sit down," he whispered. Now I got to return the favor he'd done for me yesterday. I draped his left arm over my shoulders, put my right arm around his waist and walked him to the nearest chair. Once he was seated, he bent over, his elbows braced on his knees and his head between his legs, like they tell you to do when you feel faint.
