Page 85 of Witches of Dubious Origin
Olive shrugged. “Magic can be punitive.”
I stared at her. “You might have mentioned that.”
“Now you know,” Olive said. “I suggest you expend your energy on translating the grimoire instead of being indignant with it.”
“It’s not the book I’m annoyed with, it’s—” I began, but Olive cut me off.
“Was there anything of interest in the obituary?”
“There was no cause of death listed,” Jasper answered.
It appeared we were skipping over my tantrum. Fine. “It listed her good works in the community and such, but that was it. Did you have any luck tracking down any of her old friends?” I asked.
“Not really.” Eloise’s eyes were filled with a deep sadness. “It seems most of the people we knew have either passed on or moved away.”
“The one woman we did locate, Janet, mentioned that the island doctor, Dr. Hawthorne, relied on Toni’s skills and was quite beside himself when she passed.”
“Is he still practicing?” I asked.
“Yes, we’re on our way to see him now,” Olive said. Thewind tossed her dark hair around her handsome face. She lifted her eyebrows and added, “Maybe he can take alookat your eyes.”
“Are you serious right now?” I asked. “You’re actually making a joke when I resemble a vampire?”
Olive’s mouth lifted in one corner. “If not now, when?” She turned on her heel and started walking. “Come on, then. The doctor is only going to be in the office for another thirty minutes. If we want to see him at all, we have to go now.”
“But what about the grimoire?” I protested. If it wanted to show me something, I wanted to know what it was. Right now.
“It will keep for a half hour,” Olive said. “Besides, opening the grimoire in the middle of town might cause attention we don’t want. Let’s go.”
Frustrated, I followed Olive, hugging my backpack to my chest and mentally promising the grimoire that I’d get to it as soon as I could. I didn’t think I was imagining the pouting coming from the book.
Dr. Hawthorne’s office was tucked in another white clapboard cottage in the center of town. The island really was ridiculously picturesque. We entered the building and the scent of disinfectant with cold air greeted us, making it very clear that we were in a medical establishment.
Olive spoke to the woman at the front desk. The receptionist was shaking her head vigorously and Olive waved me forward. I had a feeling I knew what she wanted and was proved correct when Olive said, “Lower your glasses.”
I glared at her, which was useless through the dark lenses, and reached up and lowered the shades just enough for the receptionist to see my eyes. Her gasp was not a delicateinhalation of surprise; rather it sounded like a sonic boom of shock.
She popped out of her seat and came around the counter. “This way. I’ll tell Dr. Hawthorne it’s an emergency.”
She led Olive and me into the back while Jasper and Eloise, by unspoken agreement, stayed in the waiting room, keeping an eye out for anyone suspicious. As soon as the receptionist shut the door behind us, I turned to Olive and asked, “Was it really necessary to use me as bait?”
Olive held her arms wide. “We’re here, aren’t we?”
“How long will my eyes be like this?” I asked.
“No idea,” she said. “But the sooner you figure out what the grimoire wants, the better. You don’t want to start losing body parts like Eloise.”
“If you’re trying to freak me out, you can’t possibly trip me out any more than I am right now,” I said. “And believe me, if you’d given me a chance to see what the book was trying to show me, I’d be all over it. And yet, here we are.”
A sharp rap on the door interrupted our conversation. Olive took the visitor’s chair while I sat on the paper-covered exam table.
“Come in,” I called.
The door was pushed open and a short, round man with neatly trimmed silver hair entered the room. There was a calmness and competency about him, as if he’d seen everything there was to see and could no longer be surprised by anything. Well, I was about to put that to the test.
“What can I do for you, Miss…?”
“Zoe,” I said. “Zoe Ziakas.”
