At night, I would sneak out to feed the wolfess and her pups. They’d grown quite big and would soon leave the den to fight for themselves. I should’ve followed their example.
Meanwhile, Claire’s condition worsened. She began whispering about her dreams and conspiracy theories, giving away signs of the Oracle eye breaking through. She was on her way to finding out the truth, and I could not forgive myself for poisoning her gift.
During summer break, I moved to the mansion and worked at the apothecary where I received a salary beyond belief. I was entrusted with healing Claire, as she demanded to talk to me, and only me.
My heart ached when I watched her throw up the medicine and advised her to pretend that she used it, while I searched for other options. I even brought her my precious stash of Sosden, which she smoked through a pipe and took long naps afterwards. It had proven itself as a short-term solution until she began suffering from nightmares that woke everyone inside the manor. I could not look at her semi-conscious face without shedding a tear while she blabbed her words in the wrong order or confused the syllables. Most of the time, she didn’t talk at all.
One day, she pulled on my arm with her eyes ripped open. “You died,” she whispered. “I’ve seen it.” Which I took for another attempt to keep me close.
Walking down and up the hill was replaced by strolling at the harbour and hoping to see Deg’s ship again, but I never did. At least I had enough time overthinking my choices while I stared at the waves.
Pleasing every party tore me apart, I had to put an end to it.
Who was I kidding? I couldn’t heal Claire, neither with magic nor witchcraft, and it pushed me to the one last option I despised. This time I stepped over my pride. She didn’t deserve to suffer, and I put her to sleep with a strong tranquilliser before smoking her room with rosemary.
After advising Loyra to close her windows as soon as it all vanished, I made my way to the night tower with a new chalice and a bottle of wine in my hands.
19. Black Magic
“I will do whatever it takes to find the grimoire,” I had chanted for an hour and tried summoning Veymor. Perhaps he enjoyed my despair and would let me chant until I collapsed.
Not if I would cut my hand and let the wine turn red. I took off my dress and covered myself in blood, attempting to descend.
Veymor appeared between my legs as soon as he got wind of it. “Looky-look, who crawls back,” he said, “begging me.”
“Save it. I need your help.”
“I see, but this time it costs you.”
I sighed, I had known or else I would not have called him. He was the very last option I had. “Whatever it takes,” I said and he flew with me onto my mattress.
Carefully, he licked my wound, healed it and I had to confess that he had made me feel comfortable with him, though he was not always gentle.
Ever since I saw Claire with Bryon, I’d lost my libido. I failed to answer Tonio’s flirts, never got in the mood, and therefore suspected Veymor of cursing me.
This would be an act of service and I had to endure it, if I liked it or not. He made me repeat his prayers every hour. After those, waves of lightning rushed through my legs and I had to clench my knees, almost screaming out loud. Nonetheless, Veymor continued. His hunger lasted till sunrise. By the end, I couldn’t move, my lap pulsated and my limbs ached at every turn.
While I laid still, he rummaged through my herbs and started crunching them in the mortar until it became a paste.
“Open your mouth,” he said and smeared the paste under my tongue before holding my lips shut with his hand. It had stung and burned until my tongue cramped and my body began forcing it out. “Keep calm and don’t swallow it.”
I tried to fight against it but found myself paralysed, unable to lift my arms and scratch him away.
He mumbled in a foreign language, perhaps the language of Gods.
The paste shot through my nostrils along with spit and he pinched my nose.
“You’re almost there. Don’t give up on me now.”
My eyes rolled back into the skull and he let go of me with a last deep push into the mattress. When I jerked up, my vision blurred grey with black dots and ovals. The biggest black shape before me was Veymor, and I struggled to understand his words. He sat behind me and stretched my arms out.
“Where is it?” he asked.
Before me glimmered a grey sea of black stars, some had moved, others stood still. After I regained orientation, I recognised one star bigger than the others and it whispered to me.
“Atahar kahalas, Verra tana ohara.”
I pointed down at the whisper.
“What did she say? Is it here?” He let go of me and walked beside the star. “What do you see? Do you recognise me?”
“No, black circles, you’re a large one,” I mumbled with a swollen tongue.
“How many times bigger?”
“Seven, maybe eight,” I said. His aura had vibrated and changed size, making me uncertain.
“Shit,” he grunted, placed his hand on my eyes and whispered a chant, guiding me into a deep sleep.
The weight of water on my stomach woke me with the horror of drowning. Veymor had put me into a hot bath and held my hand.
“Ho, ho,” he calmed me, “you’re fine.”
My vision came back.
