They eat mostly in silence. Veda won’t admit it, but Khadijah’s added frozen vegetables, eggs, and spices have elevated the meal.
“How are you?” Khadijah asks.
“Surprised you’re here, but given the timing between my talk with Peter about his best friend and your arrival, I’m expecting a lecture.”
“Eh, we don’t agree about Hiram, so ...” She shrugs.
“How are things with the clinic?” Veda asks.
Khadijah is a healer who runs a clinic funded by Seer community donations and a quarter of the profits from her bar, Olive. It’s vital in a city where hospitals may employ Seers but won’t treat them. Instead, sick or injured Seers are directed to Khadijah’s clinic. Medical segregation is frowned upon in more liberal cities. Proventiaischanging, albeit slowly, but many still cling to archaic beliefs: Seers have a higher pain tolerance, are immune to certain diseases, and overburden resources due to higher potion and elixir needs. None of this is true, but facts don’t matter to bigots.
“We’ve made enough profit at Olive to order new beds and restock potions with ingredients you can’t forage. The bar runs itself, so I’ve been focusing more on the clinic. Peter’s still looking for a doctor to brew as many potions and elixirs in-house as possible, and he sells spare herbs from Weston. We got a grant from a pro-Seer group for new equipment. Might bring in another healer to handle emergencies so we’re not making house calls all night.”
Only Seers can be healers, and they do the heavy lifting in health care. With their infinite wells of magic, it’s one of the few places they can use incantations and spells to cure as many ails as possible. Doctors, the Mage equivalent to healers, pull up the rear by handling smaller crises and brewing and administering all potions, draughts, and elixirs.
Before Veda became interested in medicine, she believed the relationship between healers and doctors was lopsided—Seers did all the work, and doctors got the glory. But in medical school, under the tutelage of some of the best doctors and healers in the country, she learned the truth: It was mostly symbiotic. Simply put, Seers heal from the inside out, while doctors heal from the outside in. There was mutual respect on both sides.
“Have you been going to Nénuphar?”
“I went yesterday,” Veda replies.Fortunately, there were no tattooed men swimming around this time,she adds silently.
“Good. The healing waters won’t cure your curse, but regular soaks will ease the symptoms.” Khadijah gets up. “Let me look.”
Veda sighs and takes off her shirt.
“You suck at putting on salve,” Khadijah chastises as she retrieves the salve. Veda jolts from the cooling sensation, then relaxes as the earlier irritation fades.
“I can’t reach everything.”
“Then ask.”
Stubbornness won’t allow her. A brush of warmth is all Veda feels of Khadijah’s diagnostic spell. “How is it looking?”
“Good enough. The curse is still dormant. The cyst hasn’t gotten any larger.” All good news, but Khadijah sighs, her expression tightening with guilt. “I wonder if the Botanist figured out the mistake they made when they cursed you and tracked you down, with the spider lilies at the park serving as a warning.”
“Why warn me if they want to kill me?”
“Maybe what Everett said has some truth. You’re an answer.”
“To what question?”
“We need to figure that out.” Khadijah helps Veda with her shirt. “I’m glad I was able to save you, but I wish it hadn’t meant trapping Sanguis inside you. I haven’t done what I promised and figured out a safe way to get it out.”
“You and Peter have done everything you can. I appreciate it.”
Khadijah gives her a meaningful look. “Don’t negate your own participation. You figured out the blood in the cyst isn’t yours and hypothesized that it belongs to the person who cursed you, the Botanist.”
“Yeah, but we can’t test it or find their name.” Cursed blood never spills. It can’t be extracted willingly or by force. Veda chuckles darkly at the irony of having the identity of a serial killer trapped inside her, but there’s nothing she can do about it except wait for the dam to break and see who drowns with her.
“At least we know they have a matching mark, and now they’re probably in town.”
“That narrows it down. Like finding a weed in a pasture.”
“Not really,” Khadijah replies darkly. “I imagine they’ll find you before you find them. They at least know who they’re looking for.”
“True.” Veda sighs. “I’m just ready for this to be over.”
They stare at one another until Khadijah softly asks, “Are you ready to die?”
