Page 42 of Magic Blooms
“Umm, how much further is this little walk going to be?” Even as I spoke, my feet started to sink deeper into the mud, each step threatening to rip off my new shoes. It would be much harder to run back to Fox’s End if I had to do it barefoot.
“I’ll know when I’m there,” answered Fawn, gazing out at the land around us and taking in a deep breath, as though savoring the damp, sticky air.
I couldn’t help but notice Fawn had changed over the course of our walk. Small hints of color had returned to her corpse-like body. A pale pink graced her cheeks, and her lips had shifted from blue to nearly white. Even the network of veins had receded fully from view.
Was it the land? The time of day? The approaching ritual?
I didn’t like the thought of her becoming stronger when she could already so easily overpower me, if that’s what she intended.
Still, I said nothing, continuing behind her but watching very carefully.
Fawn veered off path and took a step into the thick swamp, then another.
I lifted the bag high and followed, until soon the water neared my knees.
A symphony of plopping noises swelled as various swamp creatures drew close to watch. Still no sign of any gators, though.
Once the water reached our hips, Fawn finally stopped.
“This should serve us well.” She took off her cloak, which had long since started soaking up the dark brown water, and handed it off to me.
I dutifully took it from her, struggling to keep my balance as I added the water-weighted cloak to my load.
Now Fawn wore only a simple black dress with long bell sleeves. Not exactly what I would’ve picked to wear out in these conditions.
“I see you’re sticking with the black and white color palette,” I murmured.
She looked over her shoulder at me and narrowed her eyes. I knew she was trying to figure me out. Well I suppose that was fair, given that I was doing the same to her.
“The clothing is immaterial. I have gathered my strength for today. I’ll need every ounce I can muster to complete the ritual satisfactorily. Now open the bag, and let’s begin.”
I glanced up to where the sun was still hung high in the sky. This was good. If she was starting now, we should be done plenty early. I passed the bag over to Fawn, but instead of accepting it, she just stared at it as though it was beneath her to even consider touching it.
“I said open it.”
I tightened my lips but didn’t fight her. I dutifully opened the bag, unsure of what to do next.
“Now open the jars, and hand them to me one by one.”
I had to balance the handles of the bag on one of my arms so I could free up my hands. There were four jars inside, and I had no idea what they might contain. “Is there any particular order you need these?”
“No more talking,” she said in a deeper voice than normal, jutting out a hand in my direction. So much for precision.
I grabbed the first jar I came across. Its glass let off a soft blue glow. It had been filled with a black jam-like substance. I carefully twisted off the lid, surprised by the almost pleasant smell, something like a fruit that wasn’t quite ripe yet.
Fawn grabbed the jar as soon as I offered it and emptied the contents into the swamp, tossing in the container after it.
“The crushed fruit of nightshade,” she recited. I wasn’t sure if she was speaking to me or this was part of her spell, but I stayed quiet, eager to get the whole thing over with.
The next jar proved even stranger than the last. It was full of small white flowers. I handed it over, and she dumped that as well, the little petals cascading across the surface of the black water.
“Hemlock to sweeten the poison.”
There was no mistaking what the next jar held. I handed that one over as quickly as possible.
“Blood of the innocent,” Fawn proclaimed as she emptied it into the mix. The dark red spread out, pushing the petals further away. This must be what she got from Karen at Art’s office. This very ritual was what that poor woman had died for.
The last jar was the most surprising of all.
