“Yeah, yeah, it’s been on the property for as long as I can remember. Works beautifully to leakproof the roof and walls. I thought it was gone a few years back but it started bubbling’ up again and I’ve been using it.”
“Sir, have you ever had cancer of any sort?” asked Quentin.
“Me? No. My wife, Shirley, she died of breast cancer.”
“Quentin, what is wood tar?” asked Luke.
“It’s produced when destructive distillation of pine or other wood occurs. It’s a dark, viscous liquid composed of phenols, cresols, and guaiacols. Although it’s used in a lot of daily household products, including meat preservation, it can be toxic to human cells and can cause damage.
“I think because he’s been exposed to it for so long, he may have developed a tolerance of some sort and that’s why he’s still alive.”
“But it’s not contagious is it?” asked Eric.
“Normally, no, you wouldn’t carry it to someone else. They would have to be exposed to it. I think it’s possible that Harmon’s own cells mutated this somehow and it’s changed.”
“What do we do?” asked Cam.
“Get him back to the clinic where they can look at him more closely.”
“Well? Was he right?” asked Luke staring at the faces of their medical team.
“Yes,” said Layla
“And no,” said Suzette.
“You all are killing me,” frowned Luke. “It’s not the wood tar?”
“It is but it does have something else in it. He’s been using it to repair his roof, his logs, anything that leaks and I’m sure it works for that but something in that soil is changing it.”
“How do we figure out what that is?” asked Quentin.
“I have some thoughts,” said Hezekiah coming into the room. “Forgive the intrusion but it’s quite miraculous that I can hear your thoughts from across the property.”
“It’s alright, Hezekiah. What are your thoughts?” asked Kennedy.
“The smell on the gentlemen was insanely familiar to me. I was having trouble placing where I’d smelled it before and then I remembered. The witch.”
“The witch? You mean, like the witch that cursed you into that mirror?” asked Luke.
“Yes. The very same. Remember I said she was angry that I wouldn’t marry her daughter. I met them when she called for a physician to come and see her daughter, and I recall that smell and something else.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“Cressida, I’ve called for that fine young doctor to come out and take a look at you,” said her mother, Beryl with a sly grin.
“Mother, I do not need a physician. You’ve given me a tea and poultice and they are working just fine. It’s is nothing more than a cold.”
“Nonsense. This doctor needs to see you,” she said determined to keep the girl within her sights for a while longer.
Cressida went about doing her chores in spite of feeling under the weather. It was winter after all and she most likely had a cold. When the handsome new doctor arrived at their dock, she knew exactly what her mother’s plan was.
“Mother. Do not do this. I have no interest in the doctor,” she pleaded.
“Yet. You have no interest yet. He’s handsome, wealthy, and from a good family. Meet him and we’ll see what happens.”
Nothing Cressida said could convince her mother otherwise. She’d learned years ago it was easier to just go with her mother’s crazy ideas and fight them later. She was a witch, after all, and often her anger spewed toward her daughter as well. She never hurt her, not really but she certainly did things that embarrassed the young girl.
“I believe it’s just a touch of a common cold,” smiled the doctor. “You’re doing all the right things and she’ll be well in a few days.”
