Page 26 of Witches of Dubious Origin
“Eloise, please,” Eloise said with a polite smile.
“Eloise it is,” Jasper agreed. He turned to me and asked, “Did you get your secret mission sorted, Zoe?”
“More or less. It’s not much of a secret now.” I gestured to the group.
“Zoe, if it will ease your mind, Tariq can take Eloise for a full medical workup if she agrees to it,” Miles suggested.
I turned from Jasper and faced the group, trying to ignore the way his deep, accented voice had said my name. It took me a second to process what Miles had said.
“Yes, please, I think that would be wise.” What I didn’t say was that I was desperately hoping that Eloise wasn’t who or what she said she was. Given the events of the past few days, it was a long shot, no question, but before I broke my vow of no witchcraft, I wanted to know precisely what I was dealing with.
“Would that be all right with you, Ms. Eloise?” Miles asked.
“Just Eloise is fine.” She simpered a bit under his regard, but no color filled her cheeks. She was just as pale as she’d been when I’d first met her.
“Will this make you feel better, dear?” Eloise asked me.
I met her gaze and felt like an absolute jerk. She looked so innocent, like a lost little kid just trying to find her family. Still, I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. The librarian in me, who operated in citable sources and verifiable truths, needed proof, otherwise I would always have doubts about going back on my word to my mother.
“All right, then.” To her credit, Eloise didn’t hesitate.
“If you’ll follow me.” Tariq gestured to the door. “I promise to make it as quick as possible.”
As soon as they left the room, I turned to Olive. Her face was impassive, expressionless per usual, and I had the horrifying thought that perhaps she had recognized Eloise so easily because she was similar. As in, maybe the reason Olive came across as so cold and unfeeling was because she was undead herself. I didn’t know how to ask that, so instead I asked, “How certain are you?”
She didn’t ask what I was talking about. She just shrugged. Her dark gaze was bored when it met mine. “As I said, I’ve met my share of undead before. Eloise has the same look about her. If you look closely, you’ll notice there’s something not quite right.”
“Like the lack of actual breathing?” Claire asked. Her voice held the tiniest note of sarcasm, but Olive just bobbed her head in accord.
I felt as if I were being sucked down into quicksand. If this was real, if Eloise was truly undead and Mamie had been the one to bring her back, I didn’t know how I could manage to live with breaking my word to my mom. It had taken up a sacred space in my heart as the last thing I’d been able to do for her before she’d left me. Going back on that promise, given her recent death, felt wrong on a soul-deep level. With that thought, I reached into my shoulder bag and retrieved the book.
10
“I want you to keep this,” I said. I held out the volume to Claire. She didn’t take it. Neither did Miles or Olive when I shifted toward them. “Please.”
“This is quite a change in attitude from yesterday, Ziakas,” Olive said, addressing me by my last name. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Weren’t you determined to sort the situation yourself?”
Miles shot her a chastising glance. “Tell us about meeting Eloise. How did that come about?”
“She knocked on my door,” I said. “After I was terrorized by a single-minded raven who would not get off my porch—I swear it was watching me—”
Jasper broke into a fit of coughing, and I paused, waiting for him to be okay before I continued.
“Anyway, when I finally shooed the bird away, there was a thump on the porch, and I opened my door to find Eloise standing there.”
Claire took my arm and led me back to the love seat. Olive and Miles resumed their seats in the armchairs, and Jaspertook the chair Tariq had vacated. I felt them all watching me expectantly, so I told them everything I’d learned from Eloise the prior evening, from Mamie being the one who had brought Eloise back from the dead to Eloise’s belief that Mamie had been murdered. That was where I paused.
“What else, Zoe?” Claire prodded gently. “What else did Eloise tell you?”
I took a deep breath. I could feel their scrutiny and I wondered if they would think I’d gone mad. I glanced down at the book in my hands. I hadn’t opened it since my visit yesterday. Perhaps it was my overactive imagination or maybe it was everything I’d learned about the book, but I could swear I felt it thrum low and deep in my hands. Like a cat sitting on the lap of its chosen person, the grimoire had a strange sort of contentment emanating from it. I hastily put it on the table in front of me, wanting to put some distance between me and it.
I spoke slowly, forcing out the words I didn’t want to speak. “Eloise said that my mother murdered my grandmother and stole the book and that someone then murdered my mother for the same reason.” My throat was tight, my voice rough. I rejected this narrative with every bit of my soul and I knew my voice conveyed as much. “It’s not true. My mother didn’t murder my grandmother.”
“That must have been a lot for you to take in.” Claire’s voice was kind and I felt my clenched shoulders ease in response to her empathy.
“And now Eloise wants you to send her on,” Miles said.
“Yes, but I can’t. I can’t decipher the book. I have no idea where to begin. Also, I’m not cut out for whatever all this is. Frankly, I don’t want to have anything to do with it.” Ipushed the grimoire across the table. I don’t think I imagined that it resisted me like a child digging in its heels, refusing to leave the playground. I stopped pushing and it sat in the center, its silver hexagon and engraved band catching the light against its dark matte cover.
