Page 13 of House of Crimson Kisses
I spend my time singing a mantra, a prayer to the witch-gods pleading with them to save Eleanor. Let her survive.
She has to.
Smoke is fizzling to a noisy steam that scatters through the air as I finally approach her street.
The anticipation makes my stomach drop when I reach her apothecary. I can’t bring myself to look yet, so I tie the horse to a fence post and locate a bucket of water. Many stand abandoned by the townspeople who must have spent the night putting the fire out.
I put the bucket within the horse’s reach, and he laps happily at the cool liquid. I rub his neck and give him a pat, cooing praise and whispers of, “Good boy, good boy.”
I’m stalling because I don’t want to face the horror behind me. I’ve carefully avoided staring at the cottage because I’m terrified of what I’ll find, or rather what I won’t.
I lean my forehead against the gelding’s neck and inhale the musty straw and earthy scent that’s unique to horses.
“Come on, Cordelia, we must do this. We must be strong and find our love,” I breathe into his silken mane.
I give the horse one more pat, and then I turn and face the apothecary.
The sight drops me to my knees. It’s all but smouldering embers.
There’s no roof; the thatch has completely burned away. Half of the walls have collapsed, and everything is charred black.
I hold my mouth in my hands and let silent tears fall.
“Oh my gods, please… please have escaped.”
I rock back and forth, hugging myself and wiping the tears away for what feels like an age. Finally, my courage returns, and I stand on shaking legs.
I edge forward until I almost trip over what I think is a piece of charred wood wrapped in what may have once been a sheet. There’s the faintest hint of blue on an edge of the fabric, the only remaining colour left in the house. Everything else is black, charred coal or varying shades of soot.
I take another step and my ankle gives way. There’s something under my foot. I bend down to pick it up and discover a ring. A ring Eleanor always wore. Bile climbs my throat. Please gods, I pray. The ring is gold, though part of it has warped from the heat. I suspect I could have a jeweller remould it or fix it enough it would be wearable. I slip it into my dress pocket. If she’s gone, then at least I can keep a piece of her.
I step towards the house, and a wave of warmth hits me.
I frown, wondering why the apothecary is still hot when the fire is out. I step forward, my fingers inching towards the remnants of stone where the front door was.
A voice startles me, halting my progress.
“I wouldn’t touch the stone, miss,” a man says.
I swivel around to look at him. “Why not?” I say.
“It’ll still be hot, you see. Fire’s gone, but the stone holds the heat for a while. I wouldn’t go inside either. Very dangerous. The remaining rafters will collapse, eventually. Wouldn’t want a knock on the head, would you?”
“No, I suppose not. But I…”
His face is round and ruddy, but he seems very pleasant. “You looking for the healer that worked here?”
Worked. Past tense.
My heart spasms; my chest tightens. I’m not sure I can breathe. Everything blurs, and I’m convinced I’m going to pass out.
I can’t do this. I can’t find her dead.
He looks away, realising that I’m stricken with emotion.
“Sorry, miss, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Where—” I start, but I’m unable to finish the sentence.
