The sink let out a sound like a waking dragon. A thick, dry foam, shot through with white lightning-like crystals, erupted from the drain, climbing six inches into the air before collapsing into a churning, bubbling geyser. The water in the sink didn't just bubble; it danced , swirling counter-clockwise as if trying to escape its own reflection.
Instead of vinegar, he grabbed a dusty bottle from the back of the pantry: citric acid , a remnant from a long-ago jam-making project. He poured a cup of baking soda directly into the drain, then followed it with a half-cup of the fine, crystalline citric acid.
Leo stumbled back, knocking over a pepper grinder. "Good lord," he whispered, wiping a fleck of foam from his cheek. It was cold. And it tingled.
