Kyra quickly complied, carefully stepping over the pile of rugs to settle the tea down. Candles brightened the bedroom, large candelabras lit with dancing flames that cast random shadows along the ceiling. The only furniture other than the armchair was the oversized bed, covered in luscious fabrics and the writing desk.
“You must be Kyra Farzan.”
“Yes…”
“Well, speak up girl!” She slapped an open palm on the armrest, the sound causing Kyra to flinch. “Frederick has asked me to speak to you regarding your recent summoning.”
Kyra swept her gaze along the room, settling on the grimoires that were piled beside the old woman. “One of the elements broke the circle, it was nothing but an accident.”
“There is no such things as accidents in our world, child. That young witch was a disappointment and deserved her punishment.”
Kyra tightened her fists, meeting the gaze of the old woman, her face covered in a lifetime of wrinkles and liver spots. She couldn’t tell her exact age, witches able to live far older than a human lifespan.
Her eyes were a dark blue, once beautiful but now contaminated with specks of black. Her left eye was partially cloudy, a cataract obscuring her vision. Her lips had thinned, barely a curve and she had a single tooth in the centre of her upper jaw.
“Sit down!” she barked, the order automatically dropping Kyra to her knees. She settled on the rugs, clenching her hands harder to stop from shaking. “You’re already broken, child,” the old woman snickered before taking a long drag on her cigarette. “How amusing.”
She let out a long exhale, blowing the sour smelling smoke into Kyra’s face before erupting into a chest compressing cough.
“What was the advice?” Kyra asked, wanted to get out of there quickly. The longer she kneeled the more she felt the murk seeping up through the floorboards like a thick tar over her senses. The magic polluted her lungs, burning her throat with every breath along with the smoke.
The old woman continued to cough, bony body fragile in the oversized fabric armchair. With a wheeze she spat into a tissue from her sleeve, the phlegm black. “My name’s Matilda, but you may call me Grandmother.”
“What was the advice?” Kyra repeated.
“What happens if you ingest atropa belladonna berries?” she asked, stabbing the cigarette out in her palm.
Kyra blinked, confused by the question. “Excuse me?”
“Answer, child.”
“They’re poisonous. Deadly nightshade can affect the nervous system and result in vomiting, confusion, breathing difficulties as well as death. Shifters are unable to digest them, resulting in paralysis and certain death if eaten in their animal form.”
“And what about digitalis purpurea?”
“Why are you asking…?”
“Answer the question!” Matilda snapped, interrupting.
A moment skipped by before Kyra answered, her heart a rabbit in her chest. “The whole plant is poisonous,” she quietly replied. “Fox glove can cause skin irritation, nausea and diarrhoea are just some of the milder symptoms. Vampires seem to be extra susceptible.”
“Ah, it’s hard to secretly poison someone when there’s skin irritation,” Matilda said with a smirk, settling back into her chair. “Hemlock is the classic choice, but you already know that, don’t you?”
Kyra froze.
“Tell me about the conium maculatum.” Matilda reached for her tea, the water sloshing as her hand trembled at the weight.
“Ingestion of a small amount of hemlock can cause respiratory paralysis…”
“And death,” Matilda finished for her.
Kyra nodded. “And death.”
“Hmmm.” The teacup rattled as she set it back down. “Your knowledge is impressive, you’re definitely your father’s daughter.”
Kyra ignored the coldness that settled in her stomach at the mention of her father. “What was the advice for the summoning? I don’t have much time and have no interest in discussing anything else.”
“Be calm, child. It was a comment in respect for your powerful lineage. Farzan isn’t a name I’ve heard in a long time.” Matilda shuffled forward in her chair, frail hands clasped together. “You may think we are different, but I can assure you we’re more similar than you realise.”
