Page 120 of Brambles and Bellflowers
Why was Miles taking so long? “Can I—”
Kathleen tossed a handful of herbs into the pot with a flourish. The reaction was instantaneous, turning the purple into red, and the smoke cleared.
“What are you making?” I asked, even though she’d ignored Miles when he asked the same question. “What was that?”
“Mandrake,” she replied, stepping back with a heavy breath and leaning on the table. “It’s ready, except for the blood. I’d even added the artifact. Now, for him to stop being so pious. Remind him that Jonathon is playing with him.”
I moved toward her hesitantly. “What is it?”
Did witches often use their own blood in their potions?
She heaved a sigh. “I need to lie down now.” She slumped forward, and I moved to her, bracing her weight over my shoulder.
She was surprisingly heavy, and with every one of her shaky inhales, I wished that, for once, Miles’s laziness had overridden his desire to help others.
Why couldn’t he have chosen to milk his injury? He should be here. But instead, I was alone with an ailing woman with an apparent medical emergency.
We lumbered toward the small, tidy bed, and my labored breathing had nothing to do with her weight.
“Are you okay?” I asked, forcing myself forward with every heavy step.
“No,” she answered, and my stomach turned to lead. “But that’s expected.”
“It is?” My voice squeaked as she crawled into the bed and pulled the covers over her lap.
She laid down, grimacing, and the action transformed her from a small but fiery personality to someone frail and delicate. “I’d been putting this off for a while.”
So help me, this had better not be something life-threatening. That would be my luck.
“I’m dying, Bianca,” she almost whispered, and my heart turned to stone.
Goddamn it.
She’d spoken the dreaded words with a sigh. “I’d been waiting for a sign. Your arrival only validated what I already knew.”
No, no, no… This couldn’t happen right now. Not while we were alone. And if she knew this was coming, why in the world would she send Miles away?
I hadn’t realized I’d spoken out loud until she turned her attention back to me.
“Miles isn’t meant to be here,” she answered, reaching for my hand. “It’s supposed to be you.”
“Why?” I asked, my voice squeaking. “Because I’m a medium?” But I was no good with dying people.
I glanced toward the door, but unfortunately, Miles did not burst through the entrance. “Do you need anything? Do you want me to get—”
“No,” she interrupted, turning slightly to me. The lines of pain on her face had softened, replaced with smooth tranquility. “Everything is fine, and my work is completed.”
“W-what?” I stuttered as one of my worst nightmares came to life. If she wasn’t being dramatic, which I highly doubted due to her graying complexion, then she was telling the truth.
How could this happen? I’d promised myself I would never be in this position again.
Yet, here we were.
“Are you sure…” My words trailed as the room grew darker, lit only by the dimming light of the hearth. But this time, it wasn’t fear that had silenced my words but the look in her eyes.
Her attention had drifted toward the window, and the air was thick with the weight of heavy longing.
Suddenly, my panic no longer mattered.
