“We found the room on fire, boss,” Hendricks answers.
“How?” He asks, his anger coming off in waves.
We don’t have an answer for him and remain silent. He can see our intentions clearly and softens for a moment.
“Go get yourselves cleaned up. We’ll get to the bottom of this later.”
We do as he asks, feeling beat up and bewildered by the events that have transpired. As we walk, my toe hits a rogue bottle with a peeled off label. I bend down to pick it up, wincing with the effort.
In the bottom of the bottle lays a thin orange film that smells of… I take a deep whiff trying to place it.
“Elderberries?” Hendricks provides.
“And flint,” I say, deciding to bring the bottle with me.
As we walk, we pass a gaggle of witches whispering in an alcove. They immediately stop when they notice us and the hair on the back of my neck raises.
The thing about witches is they’ve figured out a way to ward their minds, making their motivations unpredictable. With any other monster or being, I can tell instantly if I’m being lied to. But with the witches? I have to blindly trust that they won’t somehow stab us in the back or lead us astray. And having lived as long as I have, finding that trust to place in anyone like that feels untenable.
We nod and they nod back, stiffly as if being done out of requirement and not mutual respect. We might have to cohabitate, but that doesn’t mean we have to like it.
“Looks like you’re going to have to rest after all,” Hendricks comments looking down at my two hands.
He’s not wrong. While my healing abilities are quick, these will take more time due to how extensively I was burned.
I just hope I’m able to mend by dusk so I can have more time with Lydia. I have so much planned for our little screamer and would hate to miss a moment of it.
Chapter 11
Lydia
“Where have you guys been? They brought by breakfast over an hour ago. It’s probably cold by now,” Faye says brushing her hair as we enter the cabin.
I’m sweaty, tired, and starving and now annoyed to find out that we could have just stayed here and food would have been brought to us.
“Oh! Breakfast burritos!” Audrey shrieks, digging into the tin foiled wrapped food.
“Now that you’re finally back, we can talk about the itinerary. I think we should do the 11 am crafting class,” Stephanie says looking over a well-worn print out of the schedule.
I take a bite of the burrito and swallow it down thickly. It’s cold and a little soggy, but better than nothing.
“What about the hike? Isn’t that at the same time?” McKenzie pouts.
Iris rolls her eyes, and my focus instinctively bounces between her and McKenzie making me wonder if they’re about to erupt into one of their fights. I wish the two of them would justagree to how amazing they can be together and save us from the will they won’t they. My money is on they will.
Once the burrito is down, I take my daily medication slinging the little tart tasting pill down with a swig of my water bottle.
“I’m down for the crafts, honestly. I’ve had enough of getting chased around for now,” I say. “What do you think it’s going to be? Paint and pour maybe?” I could really use a glass of wine to relax and not feel so fucking scared. Intoxicated me might be able to deal with all the high stress situations I now find myself in.
Spoiler alert, it’s not paint and pour.
McKenzie, Faye, and Iris all ended up choosing to go on the hike, while Stephanie, Audrey, and I arrive at the craft center. Maybe craft center is a generous term, because our project consists of sewing our own poppets with moldy looking fabric.
Actually… I bring the splotchy thing up to my nose and hesitantly take a whiff.Oh god.I drop it on the table and tighten my lips to keep from retching. No one needs to see my breakfast burrito in reverse. That’s revolting. How are we supposed to make anything with these supplies? It looks like they dug them up from a trash bin and said here, make something.
Stephanie seems to be unfazed, though, pulling her black string through effortlessly, while Audrey pokes at a bowl of mismatched buttons and bobbles. She manages to string together a few stitches making a sad looking sight.
“This is boring,” Audrey whispers garnering a glare from our instructor, Kelly. She’s a gorgeous girl, maybe around our same age with jet-black hair and sharply cut bangs that hit right above her eyebrows. She’s wearing a fitted black dress and wearing black and green striped tights and looks like she’d rather be peeling her own skin off than sitting here watching us. I’m afraid to nod my agreement with Audrey, but this class is a fucking joke.
