Chapter 20
Twenty
After Ruth’s quiet exit, Veda stares out the window, hurrying to wipe her eyes when Hiram joins her.
“I’ll tell Khadijah to take you home.”
Her composure cracks with a whispered “Thank you.”
It’s the last thing they say to each other.
Hiram points Khadijah in the direction of the room Veda is in, then collects Antaris from story time early.
His disappointment at her premature departure fades fast when Veda offers him a tired smile and signs tomorrow.
They spend the rest of the evening eating pizza and watching cartoons.
Antaris doesn’t make it through two episodes before falling asleep.
After tucking him in, Hiram retires to his bedroom for a fitful night of sleep.
It’s barely ten in the morning, but Hiram has been awake for hours.
Rather than cook, he decides to treat Antaris by taking him to the Leaning Cactus for breakfast. The moment Antaris signs bacon, please to Hiram while ordering, Cathy, the waitress, fawns over him, showing him the signs for different menu items that they practice while she’s putting their orders in.
Antaris’s meal is no charge because he reminds Cathy of her deaf granddaughter.
Hiram leaves money on the table for her and lets Antaris write thank you on the back of the receipt in his uneven penmanship.
They don’t have plans, but this changes when a familiar truck pulls onto the road, towing an even more familiar motorcycle.
Veda is on the side of the road, phone to her ear.
She does a double take when she sees him, hanging up with a roll of her eyes and approaching the passenger side as he slows to a stop beside her.
Smiling at Antaris is routine, but the look she gives Hiram is less cold than usual. Progress.
“You missed Peter. He’s dropping my bike off at the shop. It wouldn’t crank. My Imprint reader isn’t working.”
“Why didn’t you let him take you home?” Hiram asks. There’s nothing around but trees lining the road.
“I am at home.” When he and Antaris exchange dubious looks, she shakes her head. “My driveway is concealed from the road by illusionary magic to protect my cottage from prying eyes. It’s about a mile into the forest.”
Antaris squints at the forest line. He clearly wants to see where she lives, and Veda knows it.
She surprises Hiram by getting into the passenger seat and closing the door.
Eyes shut, she cups her hands and frowns in concentration until a blue orb materializes before her.
Alarmed, Hiram puts the car in park, ready in case the consequences of magic hit her hard. “You don’t have an amulet.”
“It’s already been paid for, years ago,” Veda explains as the orb floats to Antaris. “It’ll read and store your Imprint when you touch it and allow you to see beyond the illusion.”
Antaris’s trust in Veda shows in his lack of hesitation. He giggles at the sensation. Hiram’s glad he’s parked because the sound jolts him.
“Tickles?”
His son nods, a tinge of color in his cheeks.
Hiram’s amusement fades when the orb floats to him. “Are you sure?” he asks Veda, understanding the depth of what she’s offering.
“No, but I know you won’t hurt me.”
“I won’t.” He meets her eyes as he touches it. Warmth spreads through his fingertips, and the trees begin to fade, revealing a driveway behind her.
“Reserare is the incantation to open the path when I’m not around. Go on.”
Hiram turns the car onto the narrow path.
Isolated is the first word that comes to mind. The forest is dense on both sides of the dirt road, growing thicker in parts, thinner in others. A few animals dash by the car, but none get too close. At last, the trees part to reveal her cottage.
“There’s not much to see,” she says as they climb out of the sedan.
Antaris slips his hand into Veda’s, eager to see everything she shows him, from the talisman at the door to the solarium.
He sees her lantern floating above her bed and sign language books spread all over the coffee table.
While Antaris looks out the window at the forest behind her house with Hiram, Veda stands beside him.
“If I were lost and found this place, I wouldn’t know it was yours,” he says quietly.
“That’s my intent,” Veda replies honestly.
Antaris notices the herbs in the kitchen, pointing. They’re leggy in parts, thin in others. Partially dead.
“Ah, yes. They were slightly neglected when I hurt my hand. You can have them, if you’d like. Your dad was going to start a little garden for you at home. Oregano, mint, dill, thyme, cilantro, rosemary. These are perfect.”
Hiram appreciates the gift, but sours at Veda detaching herself from yet another thing. “You can share them with us,” he suggests in a rush. “We’ll provide the space and you can help us keep them alive.” He waves his thumb. “Black thumb and all.”
Veda studies him too long for it to be appropriate. “I think I’ve got an extra cedar raised bed that I built for the greenhouse and never used.”
Antaris goes with her to find it, and not long after, it’s in Hiram’s trunk and they’re all off to the greenhouse for spare dirt.
It takes an hour for Veda to mix everything, explaining each part to an intrigued Antaris.
Finally, they head back to his house and start working on the bed, the quacking ducks on the lake serving as background noise.
Hiram leaves them to make pastitsio as a thank-you.
The windows are open. The sun is shining. He can see them outside as he cooks. Antaris is on his stool with gloves Veda snatched from the greenhouse, wielding a hand shovel. From the looks of it, they’ll have room for more herbs in the bed. Having sage would be nice. Green onion and basil, too.
Having Veda here to plant it would be better.
As if hearing her name in his thoughts, she turns, catching his eye. A single brow raises. Hiram has to get out of his head, or he might do something to compromise this tenuous trust they’ve built. That would be terribly stupid.
Hiram swears to the empty kitchen as the water starts to boil.
Antaris falls asleep after dinner before he can wander. Hiram puts him to bed and returns to find Veda holding a glass of wine.
“Peter said he’d come by to take me home. My bike will be ready in two days.”
He can’t admit that he doesn’t want her to leave, so he nods. “Thanks again for starting the herb garden.”
“They’ll do better here than in my kitchen. I only had them because they reminded me of home. My mom kept an herb garden. I’ve always loved the smell of fresh herbs. It’s comforting.”
The faint meowing of the cat makes Hiram sigh. “He acts like nobody ever feeds him.”
“Do you not like animals?”
“Cats are fine, even though they make my face itch. I have a list of other animals I don’t respect.”
“Don’t respect?” Veda bites back her smile. “Go on. Top three animals on that list and why.”
“Orcas are bullies, mosquitoes are pests, and hippos are deceptive,” Hiram rattles off without hesitation. Leaning closer, he adds, “And no, I won’t explain.”
She stares at him blankly, then laughs.
Hiram smiles at the sound. Veda’s treatment has been less hate and more tolerance, leaving Hiram wondering how much he can continue to shift her wind.
Angling sideways to face her, he watches her laughter fade, her inscrutable countenance returning.
Veda checks her watch, then reaches for the drink she already finished and grimaces.
Hiram thinks she’s going to wait by the door for Peter or check on the planted herbs, but she leans against the edge of the island and asks, “What do you do when he goes to bed?”
Hiram is slow to answer. “I mostly read. Either books or research. Why?”
“I’m making conversation, or else we’re going to sit in silence until Peter gets here. So, do you have hobbies?”
“I don’t have many hobbies, never had time for them, or quiet days or nights. Sometimes I finish tasks I’ve neglected, prepare for the next day, or clean. Or Peter comes over for beers.”
“Do you ever stop moving?”
“No,” Hiram says. “If I do, everything I balance will collapse.”
Veda closes her eyes. “I feel like that sometimes. If I stop, the bind will fade, and this Sanguis Curse will consume me.”
“Does it hurt?”
“When I neglect myself by not eating right to keep my energy up. It’s worse when I skip swimming in Nénuphar.”
“So . . . often.”
Veda rolls her eyes. “You sound like Khadijah.”
“Shocking that this is the one thing we agree on.”
“Yeah, well, she gives a shit, while you—I’m not sure what you’re doing, actually.”
“I’m keeping my word.” Because he wants to. And perhaps to prove he can.
“You don’t have to.” Veda’s soft frown fades when she picks up the meowing kitten.
“I want to,” Hiram replies.
“We don’t always get what we want.”
“No, but I am patient and willing to wait for what I want.”
“Which is?”
“Everything or nothing. I won’t settle for something in between or beg for scraps.”
Out of habit, Hiram has been alone for years. Not lonely, there’s a difference. He’s okay with being alone, but sometimes, he wants more. Day by day, it’s become increasingly obvious to him that the more he wants is her.
The walls around Veda could block out the sun, but she’s lonelier than she realizes, and more vulnerable than she’ll ever admit.
Her fight-or-flight reaction looks like his, which is probably why Hiram can see the cracks in her facade.
She can pretend and avoid reality, but at her core, he wonders if she wants what everyone wants—even him.
Genuine, human connection.
Hiram turns on the television for background noise and sits beside Veda on the sofa. She shoots him a sharp look but doesn’t ask him to move. The kitten leans over, pawing at him. Veda scratches behind his ear, the motion halting when the evening news begins.
“Good evening. You’re watching the Friday Night News.
I’m Finn Clark with breaking news. Reports of a serial killer are emerging from the FCD today.
Known as the Botanist, with twelve victims, all from the Seer community, the killer now poses a danger to everyone. Please be on the lookout for . . .”
A picture of Dr. Simpson flashes on screen. Veda swears, and Hiram shares the sentiment.
“Dr. Everett Simpson, a Seer who works as a veterinarian at Weston Academy, just outside of Proventia. He is a person of interest and potential suspect in the case. Do not engage. He is considered dangerous. If you know anything, please contact the Investigator Department of the FCD.”
No mention of Everett’s curse.
“He’s not a suspect,” Veda says more to herself. “Fuck, this is going to put a target on every Seer’s back. Parents at the school. Students.”
Hiram mutes the television. There’s tension in the silence that has nothing to do with them.
Veda calls Peter, but he doesn’t answer. “He’s probably going to be late. Sorry for intruding.”
“You’re not. I can take you home if you’d like.”
“I don’t want to disturb Antaris.”
“You can stay here. I’ll sleep on the sofa and take you home in the morning.”
The look she gives him is but a flicker. “Okay.”
Hiram isn’t sure when Veda falls asleep, probably while he’s reading and she’s petting the kitten.
Hiram picks her up, carries her into his room, lays her on the bed, and removes her shoes without rousing her.
She sleeps like the dead. Odd, for someone so paranoid.
He keeps his room cool at night, so he covers her with a blanket, grabs a change of clothes, and heads to shower.
After he’s done, he checks on Antaris. The kitten has made his way back into the cat bed, and the lantern emits a soft glow.
Once he looks in on Veda, who sleeps soundly, Hiram finds a blanket and a spare pillow, then settles on the couch with a book, too wired to sleep.
But there is a different feel in the air tonight. Quiet. Steady. Rain falls and thunder rolls. The house feels warm. Full. Alive. The earth’s sigh lulls Hiram to sleep.