Page 29 of Firedrake Betrayal
Retrieving the magical ingredients the witch needs to heal Brennan involves a ten-minute drive deep into Wilkersons suburban streets.
Meliah, I remind myself.
Her name is Meliah, and I have been hanging around Patten for too long to be calling her ‘the witch.’
We pull up outside a narrow, pale cream painted house. It’s very ordinary. I hadn’t known what to expect, but it had not been this. Again, probably because of Patten and his mutterings over the years of witches cackling over cauldrons in moldy basements.
He has very specific notions about witches, and he must have infected me with them.
“You live here?” I ask, climbing out as I take in the quiet street.
“I do,” she admits as she leads the way to the black iron gate and down a gray stone path to the front door.
“And how do you know Brennan to want to rush to his rescue?”
She pauses with her arm raised, poised to insert a key in the lock. “I belong to a local coven here. A few years ago, we had apack of incubi settle. I hired him to get rid of them, since they were causing so much trouble here.”
“He must have done a good job for you to want to return the favor?”
She peers over her shoulder. “Come on inside. It won’t take long to gather everything we need.”
I follow her into the house, watching her closely. While I’m not as cynical as Patten is about witches, I’m not stupid either. I stay on high alert.
“Were you aware that your friend who tried to hide from me has part of a dead witch clinging to his soul?” Meliah plucks a small black jar from a wooden bookcase filled with more glass jars with wooden corks than I’ve seen in my life.
Some are filled with herbs, others dark liquids, and yet more, it’s impossible to know what they contain. A rare few have white labels on the front and the writing, a cursive script, is almost unreadable to me.
Distracted by the heaving bookcase, I wrench my eyes from it to her. “What did you say?”
Meliah is efficient in her task as she plucks a glass jar from one shelf and another from a different one. She places each into a small black velvet pouch I didn’t see her pick up. All seemingly without giving her task much thought.
“It sometimes happens. When a witch dies and she isn’t ready to pass over to the next life, a part of her clings to the nearest living thing.” After depositing a jar that looks like it contains a reddish-brown herb, she gives me an unreadable look. “Like your friend.”
“I don’t know what you…” My voice trails off when I recall the female cop who bolted from us on the highway, acting like she had seen something truly terrifying.
A witch cursed us years ago. Jade broke that curse.
Yet the cop had reacted as if we were cursed.
Not we, I correct myself. Patten.OnlyPatten. The cop looked at Isaiah and me, and she didn’t react at all.
“A witch cursed us,” I explain.
“And I’m assuming she paid for doing such a stupid thing with her life?” Meliah grabs another jar, this one containing a black viscous liquid, and adds it to her pouch.
“You sound critical.”
“Death curses are rarely a good idea, even for an experienced witch. They have a habit of coming back on you in unexpected ways.” Her tone is dry. “Best to save curses and dark spells for… well, never.”
“So you’re a good witch, then?” I don’t hide my doubt.
“The tools are there for anyone to make use of them. Some choose to harm, others to help. I try to be a good person. But cut me off in traffic? I’ll roll my window down and scream at you to do better. Iamonly human.”
“Right.” I snort a laugh.
“Once I’ve finished helping Brennan, I know a purification spell to remove the witch’s taint from your friend.”
“Go near Patten with a spell?” I shake my head. “I doubt you’d live through that experience.”
