“I shall make you proud, Malvina,” I whimpered, my voice bent with fresh emotion. “I have always only ever wanted to make you proud. I shall not use prophecy and I will not use the book.”
“You may use the book for noble causes sparingly, child,” she smiled. “You will know when you open it which spells are meant for only the wicked, the ones that will swallow the caster and turn them to something unnatural. Bad magic stains the soul.”
“Please use the oleander I prepared, Malvina,” I pleaded, sensing our time together coming to an end.
“Live well, child. Know that I loved you more than my own flesh and blood, and ye and Iris brought me to the only joy I’ve ever experienced. I’d save you a hundred times over. Know this when your kind heart is overwrought with guilt,” Malvina leaned forward and gripped the bars, as though they were my hands and I swallowed down a mournful bleat.
“Take the oleander, Malvina,” I cried again, visions of self-satisfied villagers smirking as Malvina hangs lifeless in town, filling my head.
Malvina took the vial, opened it and poured it onto the filthy floor before burying the empty container under the grimy hay. “I love you, girl. Tell Iris of my affection and to mind her ma.”
My breath caught. “I’ll be there, Malvina. You shall not die alone.”
“Everyone dies alone, child. I take my leave of the world just as I entered it. Do not serve as witness to it, lest you attract unwanted suspicions and attention.” With a final oblique grin, she nodded at me before retreating to the corner again, humpbacked with the blankets heaped upon her wizened shoulders.
“I love you, and I’ll never forget you.” My voice was hushed, but I knew she heard me. I forced myself to my feet and with one last longing glance, I climbed the dark stairs and cannot recall how I left the house without making a scene.
Once back out on the porch I wanted nothing more than to lie prostrate and wail, but I knew the rest of the town was watching my behavior carefully. Seeing their curious glances, I swallowed down the overwhelming emotions threatening to bubble over like one of Malvina’s cauldrons full of bitter tonics.
My eyes scanned the townscape wanting badly to lay sight on my one ally, and I found him, though my heart sunk once I did. There he stood, sunlight almost a halo upon his handsome head as he laughed and tossed a towheaded little girl into the air. She giggled and kicked in mock struggle and when he carefully set her down onto her feet she begged to be picked up again. Next to the winsome pair was a woman laying the same adoring eyes on George that I did, though this woman had the lawful right to do so. She was without a doubt his wife Sarah.
I stared at her, suddenly uncaring of the consequences for doing so, taking my time to appraise her. Youth gave her a fresh look, but a more in depth observation showed that she was plain, and her beaked nose and small eyes filled me with mean spirited pleasure. Her body was slight and trim, but nary a curve and her hair was a lifeless dirty blonde, but the joy on her face watching her husband and child was alluring, and the jealousy that wracked my body made me almost vomit. As beautiful as I was, I was only a poor widow who could only enjoy him illicitly and I would never be legitimized in his life.
My eyes stormed as they locked with George, who quickly glanced away, tugging on Sarah’s sleeve as I watched the trio amble down the road to their marital home.
I gathered myself and returned home, where after fixing Iris lunch I stole away to Malvina’s cabin. As I approached, the wood pile sat like a funeral pyre, jagged and unwelcoming. I set to work moving sticks and logs to the side, my hand dirtied with every movement and spiders tumbled out of their nests as I breathed heavily, determined to find the book. Eventually I beheld a dirty cloth, dusted with detritus but very clearly shielding my inheritance.
I was not sure what to expect, perhaps a tome bound of human flesh with a spine of bone, or a gold leafed, grandiose book of wonder. But what I found was a humble, time-worn book with yellowing pages and the handwriting of many people scrawled in it.
As I flipped through, Malvina’s meaning became clear. Some of the spells were meant to bring people back from the dead, summon spirits, to render people mute, to inflict pain and many other things that were dark and unnatural.
I carefully wrapped it back up and tucked it into Malvina’s shoddy wheelbarrow, along with as many of her bottles of rare ingredients as I could fit. Back and forth I went, loading whatever would aid me, knowing Malvina would want it that way.
I sobbed until I felt I could have no tears left to cry as I emptied her shelves, and then took one last look around at her humble cot and her kitchen that she’d moved so efficiently in. I could almost see her shuffling around as fast as a squirrel gathering ingredients and stoking the fire. Cooking up potions, stews and Hoecakes and ordering me around at every turn, me struggling to keep up with her.
When I arrived home, I held Iris until she had cried herself to sleep and I stared into the fire numbly. I wanted to believe that mercy would somehow be shown to Malvina, but at 9pm I knew she was gone. I knew
