Page 125 of Brambles and Bellflowers
I blinked at her. Her bluntness never failed to catch me off guard.
“Okay…” I said, pulling the hood over my face. Damen had mentioned that she’d been able to read our lips and wouldn’t be able to like this, but I couldn’t be disrespectful to Kathleen either.
Besides, it was a bit embarrassing. My cheeks flushed as I welcomed the darkness and limited sight.
I could pretend I was alone this way. I’d never done this before—not in this life—and having her keen gaze made me forget my thoughts.
And the words.
Goddamn it, I hated Latin. Why the hell had we recorded this ritual in Latin?
I probably could have used any other language, but knowing Kathleen, she’d want me to follow tradition.
My worries fadedas the words began to flow—and a long, out-of-reach humming sensation buzzed through my skin.
My fingertips pulsed as every cell was electrified, yet it wasn’t enough. Of course, there was enough power—I could feelit lingering out of reach. However, unlike the others and their true selves—which now included Bianca—I remained unable to connect with Tu.
It wasn’t fair. What did I lack that the others had?
I only knew glimpses into a past and a kindred personality just out of the edges of my awareness. When I dreamed at night, I chased after those shadows, hoping that that missing piece would finally fall into place.
It felt surreal to bury Kathleen, knowing that after this, I’d have to meet with Jonathon. But as the closing ritual concluded and the last of the five candles flickered into darkness, a sense of otherworldly peace had come over the area.
At this moment, I was closer than ever before. Moving was mindless, easy, and habitual.
My thoughts were hazy, yet somehow I knew. I’d buried countless wanderers and villagers with these same actions—these words. The homestead faded, as did my audience. It was over before I realized what had happened, and I stood before a short mound of freshly packed dirt. The only light was the lantern Bianca held beside her as she remained sitting, cross-legged on the ground, and the full moon high in the sky over the treetops.
“Is that the end?” she asked, her voice carrying between us on the cold breeze.
“Yeah…” I mumbled, but there was no way she could hear me.
“Yeah,” I repeated, clearing my throat as I pushed the hood back from my face. My fingers brushed against the gash, and I flinched. I was no stranger to pain, but facial wounds were a bitch.
However, they did say women liked men with discerning scars, so this ordeal could work out in my favor.
But did I want to hold Bianca’s attention with pity? What else did I have to set me apart from the others and their stupid trio club?
“Are you okay?” she asked. She was suddenly in front of me, pressing her hand over mine.
“What?” I asked. My attention was now where our skin touched. My heart leaped into my throat as her blue-green eyes bore into me.
“I still think you’re attractive,” she continued.
“Thanks…” I replied, swallowing.
Yes, I would stoop this low to keep her attention. Sometimes, I hated myself.
“We should get ready to leave,” I told her, stepping back. I ignored the flash of hesitance in her gaze and tried not to feel guilty when she dropped her hand back to her side. “Are you okay to travel?”
“Yes,” she whispered. She shuffled slightly, nervousness radiating from her. Her uncertainty hung thick in the air. “Kathleen was making some purple potion…” her voice trailed off.
“Well…” It probably didn’t matter; it felt sacrilegious to go back inside.
“She said it was for you,” Bianca added.
I sighed, slumping my shoulders. There was something sacred, untouchable, about another witch’s space—especially after they passed. But I couldn’t ignore this.
“Remember, she’s not there,” Bianca said. She hesitated but still stepped toward me, linking her fingers with mine, and when I hesitated further, she added, “You don’t have to be afraid. I’ll hold your hand.”
