“Bernadette Claire has… has passed on,” she said quietly.
The words, spoken aloud, seemed to break Persi all over again. Her crying intensified, and both her sisters covered her shuddering body with their own, while Jess and I stood there helplessly. It seemed to go on forever, each second of grief stretched to a minute, each minute to an hour. Finally, though, Persi’s sobs quieted enough that my mom and Rhi managed to get her onto her feet and, with one of them on either side supporting her, led her out of the kitchen and up the stairs to bed. Jess and I stood there for a few seconds in the echoing emptiness they left behind, and then Jess sank slowly down into her chair, looking shaken. I followed suit, my legs giving way completely so that I sort of fell into my own seat.
“They were in love,” I said, my eyes focused on the phone on the wall. “Years ago. Even as Bernadette’s powers started to pick away at her sanity, Persi stuck by her. I think she was the only person left who hadn’t given up on Bernadette. She couldn’t.”
“That’s awful,” Jess said. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”
I just nodded. I wasn’t the one who needed to hear those words. I had never known the real Bernadette, and I could hardly be expected to mourn the twisted and dangerous woman she had become in recent years. But I could understand, even after all Bernadette had put me through, that this ending was not what she deserved.
My mother came into the room, looking bewildered and exhausted. She moved over to the stove and, perhaps just needing something to do with her hands, began brewing a pot of tea. Almost automatically, I used my nose to assess the ingredients: chamomile, lemon balm, lavender. She was brewing something to help Persi sleep. She came over and joined us at the table while the water heated, sinking heavily into her chair.
“How’s Persi?” I asked.
She shrugged helplessly. “Heartbroken, though I think a part of her expected this. It’s the guilt more than anything that’s tormenting her. Guilt that she couldn’t save her.”
“It’s not her fault,” I said.
My mom smiled sadly. “Feelings like guilt and grief are rarely penetrated by anything so weak as objective reality.”
“Did they say how she… how it happened?” I asked.
“By her own hand,” my mom said. “I don’t know any more than that.”
The kettle behind her began to whistle, and she rose to take it off the burner. She pulled five cups down from the shelf, and lined them up on the counter, pouring tea into each one. Then she turned and placed two of those cups in front of Jess and me.
“Where is it you’re staying, Jess?” my mother asked, as she set the cup and saucer in front of Jess with a gentle clink.
“Just one town over, in Camden,” Jess said.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to try to return there tonight. The police will be on high alert after what happened at the lighthouse tonight, and so too will the Conclave. We’d be happy to have you stay the night here. I… don’t think we’re going to be able to settle any more details tonight, not after… well…” She gestured to the phone.
“Of course,” Jess said. “But I don’t want to intrude on what is obviously a really heavy moment here.”
But my mom was already shaking her head. “If you go, we’ll only worry that you’ll be caught. You’d be doing us a favor, not giving us another reason to worry.”
Poor Jess. How was she supposed to argue with that? “Okay, sure, that would be great,” Jess answered, “as long as you really don’t mind.”
“We don’t mind at all,” my mom said. “And that tea in front of you is something to help everyone sleep. It’s up to you if you want to drink it, but it’s an old Vesper family recipe, and it’s very effective. At least eight hours of dreamless sleep, guaranteed, and a clear head when you wake.”
“I never thought I’d voluntarily drink anything brewed by a witch, but that sounds amazing,” Jess said.
My mom nodded. “We haven’t got a spare bedroom, but I could?—”
“Don’t trouble yourself,” Jess interrupted. “I can literally sleep anywhere. Just a couch will be perfect.”
My mom nodded again, looking grateful. “There’s a comfortable one in the library. Just let me take this tea to Persi, and I’ll bring you down some linens and a pillow,” she said.
We watched her load up a tray and carry it carefully out of the room. Jess looked at me, one corner of her mouth hoisted into a sad little smile.
“What a night,” she said.
“Yeah.”
“Do you think, with what’s just happened… will they still want to…?”
“Bernadette’s death is terrible,” I said, “but it doesn’t change anything. And I can’t imagine Persi letting her final warnings go unheeded. It would be like letting her death be in vain, you know?”
Jess nodded, looking relieved. “Good. Because I’ll have to proceed regardless, and I’ll be grateful if we can do it together.” She picked up her cup, took a long swig of tea, and immediately swayed in her seat. “Whoa.”
