Gordy’s mom navigated the van to the first of two security checkpoints and showed her badge to the uniformed man standing guard. The other guard gave Gordy a temporary pass which allowed him access to certain areas of the property. Gordy clipped the pass to his shirt and leaned forward to stare out through the windshield at the immense hexagonal-shaped building rising four stories above the expansive grounds.

At the second checkpoint, Gordy saw a bright pink sign with the words Somnium Fine Creams and Oils stuck in the lawn in front of a neatly manicured hedgerow. Bottles and cartons of various Somnium products were sold all over the country at grocery stores and in gas stations, and Gordy had memorized several of the catchy jingles from the television commercials. Any normal passerby may have raised an eyebrow at the amount of security needed to protect a multi-level marketing corporation, but while Somnium’s products were real and beneficial, Gordy knew that it was all just a cover for the truth.

Behind the closed doors of that impregnable fortress was B.R.E.W. Headquarters. The Board of Ruling Elixirists Worldwide was the governing body of the potion community. The B.R.E.W. Chamber of Directors determined what potions could be concocted and which ones were in violation of the laws. Every legal advancement in potion making in the last thirty years had come from within the walls of B.R.E.W. Headquarters.

Goosebumps prickled on Gordy’s arms. He was finally going to see where the magic happened.

Gordy’s mom parked the van, and the two entered through the lobby doors. There was yet another security post. This time they had to empty their pockets and walk through an X-raying machine similar to the ones Gordy had seen at airports. Wanda carried all sorts of vials and ampoules in her purse, but they slid through the machine just fine.

A crystal chandelier dangled from the center of the ceiling directly above a desk where a receptionist issued Gordy a visitor’s badge. He attached it next to his security clearance badge.

“Surprised to see you here today, Wanda,” a man said, approaching from behind Gordy.

“Bolter?” Gordy’s mom replied in surprise. “I could say the same thing about you. Don’t you have business up North?”

“Indeed I do. But when the Chamber beckons, I must report. I’m showcasing my newest invention.”

Bolter had dark skin and long black hair that draped down below his shoulders. He was incredibly tall and thin, towering above Gordy and his mom like an odd lamppost, only one with a pair of charcoal-colored goggles strapped to his forehead. He was also wearing jeans, which made his legs look ridiculously long. His eyes seemed to sparkle when he smiled. When he leaned forward to speak to Wanda, cupping his hands over his mouth, Gordy noticed Bolter was missing his fingers. With the exception of his thumbs, only gnarled stubs remained.

Bolter whispered something secretive to Wanda, and she reared back in surprise.

“You’re kidding me! And they approved?” she asked, sounding impressed.

“Yes, indeedy! I just need to provide documentation.” Bolter turned to face Gordy. “Who do we have here? An intern perhaps? One of B.R.E.W.’s youngest and finest?” His nose twitched, but then he placed a hand on Wanda’s shoulder. “No! Don’t tell me. Is this the Gordy Stitser?”

Gordy’s mom nodded. “I had to bring him here to introduce you two eventually, didn’t I?”

“I was beginning to think it would never happen.” Bolter closed his eyes and bowed to Gordy. “Your mother tells me you have quite the gift. May I test your abilities?” The peculiar man reached into his front pocket and pulled out a small jar containing a white substance. Unscrewing the lid—an impressive skill, considering his lack of digits—Bolter mystically wafted his hand over the opening of the jar. “Yes, yes, go on. What do you sense?” he coaxed.

Gordy leaned forward and sucked in a deep breath, but it took only a second to decipher. “It’s mayonnaise,” he said, slightly confused.

Bolter’s mouth fell open in a gasp. “So gifted!”

The corners of Gordy’s lips lifted into a smirk as he glanced at his mom. “Gifted? That’s a jar of mayonnaise.”

“Delicious. Would you like some?” Bolter offered the jar.

Gordy politely declined.

Bolter clapped his nubs together. “So, are we touring the vicinity this morning?”

“Would you like to tag along?” Wanda asked, winking at Gordy.

Bolter glanced down at his watch, pursing his lips together. “I have a few half hours I can thread together to show this young Dram the ropes.”

Bolter had endless stamina, his tone lively and his mannerisms animated, as he spouted off information like a machine gun. He walked with a pronounced skip in his step, his thin legs swishing across the marbled floor, and he insisted on taking the stairs as well, sometimes three or four steps at a time. Gordy and his mom labored to keep up.

Each of the floors of B.R.E.W. Headquarters served a different purpose. Bolter called them the four Ms: Management, Military, Machinery, and Medical.

“We won’t spend a lot of time on the first level,” Bolter said. “Management. Administrative and legal operations. All sorts of boring and blahs.” He winked at Gordy. “Though your mother would like to have a corner office on this floor one day.”

“I would,” she agreed. “That would mean less travel. More family time.”

Bolter made a disgusted face. “Such a waste of talent, if you ask me.” He bent over to address Gordy at close range. “Wanda has no doubt neglected to share with you this nugget of knowledge, but she is one of the greatest Elixirists in the world.”

Gordy’s mom burst out with laughter. “I don’t like to lie to my children.”

“But it’s true,” Bolter said, waggling his eyebrows. “She brews with vibrancy and revolutionary skill. Don’t let her fool you, young Stitser. Wanda is one of the elite.”

Gordy smiled and looked at his mom, who promptly shook her head in denial. It was nice to hear what other people thought of her abilities. She kept things close to the chest. He always wondered why she insisted on being so secretive.

“Ah, floor two.” Bolter waved a magnetic badge over a sensor. “Military.”

A door opened, revealing more security guards studying the Stitsers as they entered. A hallway of doors stretched out in front of Gordy. Various placards displaying names and specifications were adhered to the lintels. Gordy read a few of the signs as he passed.

Charles Capsic—Weapon Enhancements

Isaiah Govine—Ballistics

Zelda Morphata—Explosives

Gordy smirked. “I didn’t know there were so many Elixirists involved in the military. What does potion making have to do with war?”

Bolter sighed. “It has everything to do with it, unfortunately. Weapons are one of the areas where we Elixirists naturally excel. Shame. So much damage can be done by one tiny vial. Ask Einstein. He knew all too well about the dangers of revealing one’s talent.”

“Einstein was an Elixirist?” Gordy asked.

Bolter gawked at Gordy’s mom in shock. “What have you not told this boy?”

Wanda smiled and then nodded at one of the doors. “Is Zelda in the office today?”

Bolter clicked his tongue. “I thought she would be, but the lights are out.” He jiggled the doorknob. “Door’s locked. Perhaps she took a sick day?”

“Can we see inside any of these offices?” Gordy asked. He wondered what sort of workstations militarized Elixirists used. Did they have special cauldrons and ingredients?

“You know, I’d rather not linger too long on this floor,” Gordy’s mom said. “A lot of these folks aren’t as pleasant to converse with as Bolter is. Has to do with their line of work, I suppose.”

They climbed the next flight of stairs, huffing and puffing and clinging to the handrail, though Bolter never showed any signs of being winded.

“Machinery!” Bolter cheered, bursting through the door with his arms outstretched. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

There weren’t any security guards roaming the hallway on this level. In fact, the whole floor felt empty, as if the three of them were the only living beings around.

Gordy scrunched his nose, but before he could ask why any Elixirist would need to meddle with machinery, Bolter drew their attention to the opened door near the center of the hallway. His name appeared on the placard above the door, though it could have been scribbled on with a permanent marker.

Bolter’s office looked like an automotive junkyard. Bumpers, mufflers, and carburetors dangled from chains throughout the room. A mountain of rolled-up blueprints had been piled in one corner. Gordy spotted Stevia, Vietnamese coriander, and an enormous cluster of broccoli stalks hanging from an herb drying rack. Bunsen burners and a rusted steel cauldron were in the other corner. The floor was slick with oil, and the room smelled like diesel.

“This is where I find my inner peace,” Bolter said, beaming. “What do you think, Gordy? Impressive?”

“Yeah,” Gordy lied. How could Bolter work in such a disheveled lab? “So what is it you do exactly?”

Bolter blinked and grinned. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Maybe it should have been obvious, but the office needed a serious overhaul, and the whole room made Gordy itch uncomfortably. Now he understood why his mom insisted on keeping their lab so orderly. It just made practical sense. How could anyone mix and brew in an environment so filled with chaos?

“Bolter works in automotive concoctions,” Gordy’s mom explained. “It’s his primary responsibility at B.R.E.W.”

Then it all became clear. The car parts. The oil. The hanging light fixture made entirely of headlights. “That’s cool,” Gordy said. “But what do you do with cars? Make them go faster?”

“Not exactly,” Bolter said. “Volatile chemicals have a negative impact on emissions. On this floor, we try to cut down on pollution. Better for the environment. You understand?”

“I guess, but how?” Gordy nudged a tray of lug nuts, scattering them across the floor. Bolter never noticed, his unblinking eyes focused on Gordy’s.

“Have you not heard of hybrid vehicles?” Bolter asked.

“You made those?” Gordy curled his lip, impressed.

Bolter started to nod, but then opted to shake his head instead. “Not exactly. But I know several members on the team that were involved in the hybrid program. And I may have given them a gentle nudge here and there in the right direction.”

Gordy’s eyes widened. “Wait a minute.” He pointed at Bolter. “Are you the one working on our Subaru?”

Bolter’s grin faltered. “Oh, uh . . . yes, that’s me.”

No wonder their car had been out of commission for so long, if someone like Bolter had been meddling with it.

“Should be ready to go soon,” Bolter insisted. “Just a few more days for the mixture to percolate in the gas tank.”

Yeah, right, Gordy thought. And then what would happen? Would the Subaru implode?

A blaring car horn honked in the room, and Gordy covered his ears. The sound came from underneath a pile of hubcaps that Gordy realized was actually Bolter’s desk.

“Your phone’s ringing,” Wanda said calmly.

Bolter glanced down at the phone, his eyebrows rising. “Ah, it’s Zelda! She’s come to work after all. Yes, I probably should take that,” he said. “Would you like to unbury a seat or two and wait? I could show you some of my latest projects.”

Wanda smiled at Gordy, and he silently pleaded with her to escape immediately. “I’m sure Gordy would love to hear all about them, but I have to get him back to school before lunch,” she said. “And we still have a few more stops to make on this tour.”

Gordy sighed with relief. Bolter was nice enough, but if given the choice, he would’ve rather listened to his dad talk about chest freezers for several hours than spend another minute in Bolter’s disastrous office.

The horn honked again, and Gordy jumped. Bolter adroitly plucked the phone receiver from his desk with one fingerless hand and bowed his good-byes to Gordy and his mom.