Page 23 of Ashes and Lilies
The witch was pale and shaky—and was in the process of tucking a bottle into a bag.
“Wait!” I pointed at him, and he froze. “Is that a water bottle?”
Miles glanced at the bottle still in his hand and then turned his gaze back to me as if he found nothing wrong with this situation.
It was as if most people carried holy water in a mister.
“Yes…” he replied, his tone unsure.
“That’s for styling hair, not for holy artifacts!” Another of my preconceived pictures of paranormal investigation shattered. This almost seemed sacrilegious. “What about a glass bottle and a cross? Or even, in dire cases, a mason jar?”
Miles’s eyebrow had climbed higher with my every word, but the confusion never left his expression. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this, haven’t you?”
I ignored his ridiculous question. “How can you even touch that? That’s so irresponsible. What if you drip some on yourself?”
Miles’s second eyebrow rose to join the first. For a moment, nothing happened. But then, with slow, exaggerated movements, he pulled the bottle out of the bag the rest of the way.
I could only stare in shocked silence as he twisted off the cap and dumped the contents into his open palm.
My horrified gasp echoed throughout the room. The sound turned into a strangled scream as Miles crouched into himself, cradling his hand to his chest. “Oh God,” he cried, anguish lacing his voice. “It burns! I should have listened!”
“Miles.” Julian’s voice held a hint of warning, but I didn’t care about him. He wasn’t the one currently in danger of melting into the floor like a wax candle.
“Miles! Are you all right?” In a flash, I was beside him, ready to help. His shoulders quivered under my hands, and I shook. I’d never felt so useless in all my life.
I was so upset that it took a moment to figure out why Miles was shaking. And even longer to interpret the meaning behind Julian’s disapproving glare.
“You jerk!” Before I could second-guess myself, I smacked Miles on the head. “That was not nice!”
Miles fell forward into the coffee table, but I chose to let it be. Instead, I returned to my seat beside Julian.
He was so mean.
Miles stood, staggering, trying to regain his footing. His nose appeared to be bleeding as well.
Whatever. He was probably faking the blood anyway.
“I can’t believe that you’d waste priest-blessed water in such a way,” I lectured, ignoring the guilty pang in my chest as Miles eyed me.
“That hurt,” he complained, his voice muffled behind his handkerchief. “Do you have super strength?”
I could show no pity. He’d never learn otherwise.
“Now you’re out of holy water,” I informed him. “What will you do if you need it?”
“There’s more.” Miles pointed to his bag. “You can get holy water from pretty much anywhere.”
I gasped, but in horror. “Miles!”
“Stop playing around!” Mr. Weaver said angrily, reappearing in front of my face. Apparently, being dead for half a day hadn’t taught him anything about patience.
“Oh.” I had plastered myself into Julian’s side at the intrusion. “Hello, Mr. Weaver.”
“It’s only him?” Julian lowered his arm, a slight grin tugging at his lips. “What in the world is he doing here?”
“I need to find my brother.” Mr. Weaver wasted no time.
“He wants to know where Dr. Stephens is,” I translated for the others.
