Chapter 27
Twenty-Seven
Dawn brings overcast skies and gray light breaking through the clouds.
The lake is calm, the air warm and humid, and a gentle fog lazily rolls in.
Hiram is already on the dock, looking on at Peter and Antaris, who sit with their legs crossed, eyes closed.
Peter’s palms glow white while Antaris’s slide through an array of colors.
“It’s a lesson in control.” Khadijah joins Veda at the window. “Something we do with the little ones. He has to match Peter’s color, over and over, until it becomes a smooth transition. They’ve been at it for about ten minutes. The first match usually takes fifteen and—”
Antaris’s light flickers a bit before turning white.
Khadijah makes a pleased noise. “Excellent.”
Veda smiles. “Hey, while they’re outside, I wanted to talk to you about something.”
She squints. “Is it about the fact that you haven’t been home in days?”
“A week and three days,” Veda deadpans. “But no, something else.”
She excuses herself to Hiram’s room and returns with her rucksack, pulling out what she found in the forest.
“Foxgloves.” Thanks to magic, despite being picked days ago, they’re perfectly preserved. “The island’s forest was bursting with undisturbed magic. These are likely more potent. I know you and Peter have been looking for a safe alternative that’ll slow my heart to the point of stopping.”
“And you want to try foxgloves?” Khadijah asks, aghast. “I found a few options that are better on your system. A dream elixir, a pulse-pause potion, or Heartbeat Hollow’s essence can work and won’t poison you at the same time.”
“None of these will stop my heart completely.”
“Yeah, that’s the point. They’re not intended to kill you.”
“The research said death will lead it out. The healer at the hospital when Ariadne-as-Everett attacked me said something similar. We have to mimic death, and if this curse was easily fooled, it would have left me after I was attacked.”
Khadijah considers what she’s saying before sighing heavily.
“Prepare it, but I think we should be careful and use a potion we know how to control with magic from the outside that has minimal side effects. We can’t manipulate foxgloves.
Nature will take its course, and we’ll be forced to use other methods to heal you.
We only take the foxglove route if it’s the last option. ”
“Okay. Want to help?”
Khadijah does. They find everything they need and put on gloves.
Veda carefully places the foxgloves on parchment paper.
The desiccation charm works instantly, drying the leaves and flowers before her eyes.
Veda picks up the paper and deposits the foxgloves into the mortar and pestle, grinding them by hand until they’re powder.
Khadijah keeps the particles from flying away with a stasis charm.
Hiram comes in as she finishes. Hesitant, he asks, “Should I be concerned?”
“We’re processing the foxgloves.”
“My question remains unanswered.”
Khadijah cuts her eyes. “We need something to put it in.”
“I have something.” Hiram is gone for so long, Khadijah sheds her protective gear to check on Peter and Antaris. He returns with a modest silver ring with striations and a navy opal stone. Ignoring her wide-eyed stare, Hiram flips it open, revealing a small pillbox.
“There’s probably a story with this.”
Hiram chuckles. “No story. It was my aunt’s. My uncle wore it, and her wedding ring, around his neck after she died.”
“And you’re giving it to me?” Veda asks skeptically.
“You need a place to store your crushed foxgloves, and this will do.”
Veda hesitantly accepts, carefully fills the pillbox and closes it. “If you want it back—”
“I already told you.” Hiram slips it on the right ring finger. It fits. She looks at it, tests taking it off and putting it back on, while Hiram watches with an unrivaled intensity that’s hard to ignore, even when he takes her hand once more.
“Worst-case scenario, it’ll put me out of my misery.”
“Don’t talk like that,” Hiram says. “I know it’s a reality, but—”
“I know. I’m sorry.” Anxiety breaks through like the persistent weed it is. “Let me clean up.”
Taking extra precautions with the pieces they used, Hiram cleans the counters twice, stores everything in another room, and starts figuring out breakfast, his mood quiet and somber.
“Everything okay?” Veda asks.
“Yeah.” Hiram abandons cracked eggs to tilt her chin and kisses her in a way that unravels the tightness inside her.
A conversation without words. At the feel of his lips, time stills, their breaths syncing.
Freeing and frightening. Veda thinks back to what she once told herself: He’s a temporary insanity.
Unfortunately, bursting their island bubble and returning to real life hasn’t cured her one bit.
The talisman alerts them to a new arrival. “Expecting anyone?”
Hiram shakes his head. “I was planning a quiet day with you and Antaris after Peter’s lesson.”
Those plans crumble when Veda answers the door.
“Is there a place we can talk?”
Ruth looks frail. It makes it harder for Veda to hold on to her anger, especially after learning about the oath.
When Veda lets her inside, Ruth drifts to the great room and stands at the glass door, watching Peter and Antaris work on control.
Khadijah returns, takes one look at Ruth, and mumbles something about needing to run an errand.
Hiram boils water. Veda sits at the table. Minutes pass as they sit in tense silence, trading increasingly skeptical glances. The clink of Hiram placing a cup of hot tea on the glass table startles Ruth, who draws a hand to her chest, closes her eyes, and takes a few settling breaths.
Hiram sits beside Veda.
“How are you?” Ruth asks at last, joining them at the table. “I know we didn’t part on the best of terms.”
“Moving forward, as I always do. But I’ll admit you’re making me nervous.”
“I see Antaris is catching on nicely.” Ruth smiles sadly. “The littles do struggle the most when Sight manifests earlier than intended.”
Hiram tilts his head. “You knew?”
“No, but one of the volunteers suspected. Indica.”
Don’t stress, little one. You’ll speak again in time.
“Child Seers are—”
“Nicknamed littles, yes. It’s meant to be ironic, because they unconsciously do so much little magic that’s overlooked.
They need the most care. A father’s love, a mother’s strength.
” Ruth sips her tea, brow rising at Veda’s expression.
“You may not be his mother in blood, but you don’t have to be to love like one. ”
Veda awkwardly studies her hands.
“Look out for Marlene and Everly.”
The request lands oddly. “What’s going on?” Veda asks.
Ruth reaches across the table and covers Veda’s hand with her own.
“Remember what I once told you, Veda. What you think is loneliness is actually hunger. Don’t starve it, or it will die.
Don’t be afraid to indulge. To live. To want and to care.
That hunger is what makes you human, and you will need your humanity to face the road ahead.
” Her hands shake, but she doesn’t let go.
“Remember the bad times, even when it physically hurts to do so. But remember the good times, even if it hurts more to know they’re gone.
Grieve. Let forgiveness come in its own time, when you’re ready to move forward. ”
“What are you—”
“Giving you life lessons. There’s more, but there is something more important we need to discuss.” Veda starts to speak again, but Ruth hushes her. “Ariadne will come for you. I have Seen it.”
Veda’s eyes bug, alarmed. “You can’t tell me your vision—”
“It will not matter,” Ruth says, brushing her off. “Ariadne will be desperate. She will try Sight Unseen, as she has done before, and will again.”
Veda is confused. “I’m not a Seer. I don’t have Sight for her to steal.”
“No, but because of your parents, you carry the potential for Sight, whether it ever manifests or not. And you two share blood. Meaning your potential for Sight now lives in her, too. Ariadne doesn’t want to just kill you, Veda. She wants to consume you.”
Knowing this leaves Veda strangely calm. “And the curse?”
“I don’t know how she plans to extract it, but it’s a problem she’ll deal with once she has what she wants. Ariadne is brilliant, but her hunt for Sight has blinded her in other ways.”
“Do you think she knew this would happen the night she cursed me?”
“No. This is a twist only the Cosmos could have created. I don’t know how she figured it out, but if she is anything like her father, she wanted to take you so she could experiment on you until she found an answer. She is dangerous. You need to protect yourself.”
An idea forms. “I’ll do that by giving her a taste of her own medicine.”
“How?” Hiram asks.
Veda turns to him. “The Liquid Curse.”
Hiram’s nod draws Ruth’s attention. “You surprised me, Hiram Ellis. The world is wrong about you. I was, too. Continue to be the man we never thought you were.”
Reflective and humbled, Hiram replies, “I will.”
“Your father is home from the hospital.” Ruth gives a knowing look before rising to her feet. The back door opens, and Antaris walks in. His hand slips from Peter’s as he drifts forward, standing before the elderly woman as if waiting for his own message. “Hello, little one.”
Antaris signs hello.
“You’re closer now than ever.” She rests both hands on his shoulders. “You’re the soul of the Scorpion. You have your mother’s heart and your father’s will.”
The boy steps closer, face full of questions.
“Did you know Grace?” Hiram asks.
“No, but I’ve heard much about her fighting spirit. I can only hope to show her fortitude when the time comes.”