Wings whispered above my head, and I glanced up to the sky. An owl continued onward, flying ahead of me toward the house, just in case I was too dense to know which way I should be walking.
I straightened. Lorde circled me twice, whining and licking my fingers as she came to a stop at my left. “Is Lu here, girl?”
Lorde whined again, and I knew Lula was not here. I glanced behind me. I could leave. Once I figured out what state I was in, I could hitch a ride.
A flash of silver, curved like a scythe, burned briefly through the air and was gone, leaving only blue sky behind.
Death had sent me here. He and his kite. There must be a reason why. A reason that would lead me to Lula. I got moving, following the owl to the farmhouse, Lorde at my side.
CHAPTERELEVEN
“Tell me all of it.” Eunice paced between the kitchen sink and the teakettle. She kept reaching up, half opening a cupboard, then pressing it closed again. “Tell me everything you remember.”
She stopped at the kettle, turned to where I sat at the kitchen table and deposited a huge mug into my hands.
The steam smelled of lemons, chamomile, and rose hips. I thought I could drink for a year and not kill my thirst. I raised the mug, but my hands shook so badly, tea slopped over the edge and onto my fingers.
“Oh, I see.” She took the mug back and gave me a warm, damp washcloth I ran over my fingers, then wearily over my face.
The warm cloth smelled of tea, and I closed my eyes, welcoming the moment of relief.
I felt like I’d been hit by a truck. Everything ached from my ass to my teeth. I wanted to linger in the darkness, breathing the scent of tea for a decade. Maybe two.
Under the table, Lorde draped over my feet, her breathing anchoring me. Eunice had contacted Lawrence to pick her up at the Junk Hunt and bring her out here. Lula and Abbi had not been found.
“Try this.” Eunice took the cloth. I was too tired to fight for it. I blinked against the light that seem bright enough to burn, but barely cast any shadows.
A migraine, I thought. This was what a migraine felt like. Or an aneurysm.
Or death.
Lorde whined softly.
No, not death. I might never know what death felt like if the gods had their way.
“Brogan, drink some tea.” Eunice’s voice was gentle, sweet with melody, slipping through the car crash in my brain.
I blinked until the room unfuzzed, then took the smaller, sturdy tea cup she offered me. It was about a quarter of what she’d given me before, the handle and weight of it manageable, even in my unsteady hands.
This time I got tea to my mouth and swallowed. The taste was a miracle.
I drank it as quickly as I could, only registering it was lukewarm after I’d drained it down.
“How’s the pain?” She exchanged my empty cup for an identical full one. I drained it, too.
“Not worse,” I said with a chainsaw voice. I cleared my throat, and she offered another cup. She also pressed two pills into my other hand.
“Aspirin, nothing fancy,” she said. “It should help.”
I squinted at the round white pills, decided they looked enough like aspirin that I wasn’t going to turn them away, and swallowed them down with more tea.
By the fourth cup, I was feeling more human.
After the slice of toast slathered in apple butter, I could think again.
And what I thought was that I needed to find Lula.
“…better if I know now. That way I can tell you which way…” Eunice was leaning against the oven, a big mug in her hand, the smell of cocoa in the air.
