Ceridwen flinched, as if struck, but did not look away from Deryn. After a beat, she nodded, and Paloma exhaled.
“I’m here because I… I felt her.” Ceridwen did not look up from the blood. Paloma didn’t need her to. She knew what she meant. She knew she was about to witness exactly why Ceridwen came.
Seconds felt like molasses, stretched, heavy, as Paloma watched Ceridwen raise her arms and start a chant. It was quiet, a melancholy melody, an incantation that had no rhymeor reason, and yet when Ceridwen finally laid her hands down on Deryn’s head again, they were glowing with a pale green light that enveloped the wound, and before Paloma’s eyes, the jagged ends mended. Ceridwen waved her fingertips over the newly stitched-up edges, and a tiny opening remained. Paloma glanced up, frowning questioningly.
“Franz will be over shortly, since I’m fairly certain Mason is breaking all the traffic rules. And there’s a room full of blood. If I leave everything healed, there will be questions neither of us can answer.”
Ceridwen reached into her pocket and pulled out a dry sprig. Before Paloma could ask questions, she placed it on her open palm and closed her eyes. A moment later, the sprig became green, with little white flowers bouncing at the top.
“Achillea Millefolium. Yarrow. Or Devil’s Nettle, if you’re into that sort of thing.” With another flick of her fingertips, the flowers were pulverized, and Ceridwen pressed the paste onto the almost healed wound.
Paloma watched as Ceridwen’s hands traveled the length of Deryn’s body, eyes narrowed and focused.
“Nothing seems broken or even touched, other than her head. I don’t feel anyone’s hands on her but yours.” Ceridwen’s smile was sly, but it was gone instantaneously as more footsteps were heard approaching.
“Ma’am!” Both Ceridwen and Paloma turned at the call. Mason stuttered and blushed. Franz, Crow’s Nest’s almost-retired doctor, bustled in, bowling over Mason.
“That’s a lot of blood, Ms. Crowhart.” He chewed on his lower lip as he looked closely at the wound, then back at Ceridwen.
“You know how head wounds are, Doctor.” Paloma kept her silence as Ceridwen simply waved the doctor’s obvious suspicion away.
“I’ll need to take her down to the clinic. She’ll need a CT…”
“Well, thank Goddess for Headmistress Nox and her fundraising efforts that provided Crow’s Nest with a permanently open clinic and equipment. How do you want to transport her?”
Ceridwen motioned to the motionless Deryn, and Franz furrowed his brow.
“I’ll call the clinic, get the ambulance up here. I don’t know about your Goddess, Ms. Crowhart, but Ms. Nox did all of us quite a service. A CT machine, an X-ray, and an ambulance. I’m almost sorry to be retiring just as we received all these riches.”
His call to the clinic was short and to the point. Paloma estimated that the ambulance would arrive in ten minutes.
“Does anyone want to tell me what happened here? Ms. Crowhart? Ms. Allende?”
Franz pointed to the pool of blood and the bronze statue that lay next to it on the floor. Paloma hadn’t even noticed it.
Ceridwen bent over it but didn’t touch or turn it. Still, Paloma could see for herself, all the way from the bed, that its base was half covered in blood, despite not being in close proximity to where most of the blood had pooled.
When she lifted her eyes, everyone was staring at her. Belatedly, she realized Franz had asked a question that Ceridwen could not answer.
“I don’t know. I arrived after eight p.m. and went almost immediately straight upstairs. I didn’t know Deryn was here?—”
“Mason told me she came through the service entrance just before you,” Franz said absentmindedly as he also bent over the statue, then glanced back at Deryn.
“What are you implying, Franz?” Ceridwen’s voice was like a whip.
“I’m not implying anything. However, this is clearly a crime scene, and I’d urge you to call Sheriff Redding if you haven’t already.”
Paloma felt faint and was grateful she was sitting down. Why had it not even crossed her mind? Of course, someone had hurt Deryn. Someone was here, in her resort, in her suite, and they had hurt Deryn. But why?
“I need to call the sheriff…” She looked around for her phone, only to have Ceridwen lay a hand on her forearm.
“I’ve got this.” There was a strange sensation of warmth and coolness at the same time, comfort and invigoration. And the smell of apples. Paloma could swear it was the freshest scent she had ever encountered.
Ceridwen spoke quietly and briefly. A minute later, she dropped the phone on the bedside table. A head poked into the bedroom, and a face that surely didn’t even shave yet stared at Franz. When the doctor didn’t notice him, the boy spoke up. The voice sounded so young, not yet touched by puberty, and yet it must belong to one of the nurses at the clinic.
“Dr. Franz?”
“Ah, Gerran. Just in time. Bring in the gurney, get Mason and maybe a few more men. I want the journey to be as smooth as possible.”
