The blood beneath the stone’s surface begins to shift before my very eyes. I gasp.I knew I wasn’t imagining it.
Before I can get a closer look, the engine behind me rumbles to life and the boat lurches forward. My grip on the amulet jostles, but when I settle again, the blood remains immobile, as if it never moved at all. I press my hand to my forehead.
God, I need sleep.
Shoving everything into my bag again, I hastily tuck the amulet back underneath my shirt. I’m surprised Bes and the others have allowed me to remain its keeper, but I’m not going to question why. Especially considering it could be the only thing keeping me alive at the moment.
My stomach sloshes alongside the undulating of the waves as we move through the port, and I wish I had something to settle it. I eye the paper bag sitting on the bed filled with granola I planned on eating. But the thought of ingesting anything now upsets me on a deep level.
I glance up at the sound of someone coming down the stairs.Bes. When his eyes find mine, his lips tip up knowingly.
“I know that look.” He hops down the last few steps and lands lightly on his feet. “You’ve never been on a boat before, I take it?”
“Of course, I—” Bile rises up my esophagus before I can finish, my gag reflex forcing my jaw closed.
“On more than a lake?”
I shrug gently, knowing whatever’s in my stomach will end up all over the expensive rug if I try to speak again. What I would say if I could is, Nonna is well-connected enough that we alwaysknow someone who can get us to where we need to go by plane. Therefore, I’ve experienced shockingly little boat travel.If only this Arturo had a plane.
A soft grin pulls up a corner of his mouth. “That’s what I thought. I’ll get Ailsa.”
Before I can stop him, he hurries back up the steps and out of sight. A moment later, Ailsa takes his place. Wordlessly, she opens a cabinet over the sink in the kitchenette I’m only now noticing, pulling out a stoppered glass jar filled partway with some sort of white powder.
“Hyoscine,” she explains before I can wonder what it might be. “Otherwise known as Devil’s Breath.”
My tired eyes widen.Well, that definitely sounds worse than anything I could’ve imagined.There’s no chance in hell I’m ingesting anything in the same realm as Devil’s Breath, especially from a woman I just met.
“Fear no’,” she assures me. “A large dose es lethal, bu’ a small amount will comba’ the nausea yer experiencin’.”
At that, my eyes fall into suspicious slits.
“If I wanted ta kill you, ye’d already be dead,” she explains.
She’s not wrong.She could’ve easily killed me when she took out the man who threatened me.
That doesn’t mean I trust her enough not to poison me, incapacitate me in some way.
Without waiting for a response, she pivots to pop open another cupboard, this time to the right of the sink. She procures a thick, turquoise-hued glass, which she fills with what I pray is drinkable water from the faucet. Finally uncorking the jar of Devil’s Breath and digging out a small spoon stuck inside, she gathers it all up and brings it to me.
“Proper dose es six micrograms, and ye might experience some dry mouth and tiredness.” Her tone is that of a physician: clinical, matter-of-fact. Given the wealth of knowledge Bes andCec possess, it wouldn’t surprise me if she’s a doctor of some sort.“Do ye trust me to stir the proper amount in fer ye?”
Any other day, I’d say absolutely not. But, barring the fact that if I speak to that effect, Iwillpuke, I’m beginning to understand that I need to start putting my faith in these people. It proves to be no easy task. The old maxim drilled into my head by Nonna since I could understand words about not trusting strangers rears its ugly head, with every single one of my instincts begging me to heed it.
Yet, Nonna trusts the man who trusts them, and they risked a lot to get me and the amulet on this boat. If they only wanted the amulet, they would’ve handed me over to the God Men.
In fact, if Bes were smart, he would’ve left me in the desert. Yet, all he—and Cecilio and Ailsa—have tried to do is keep me safe.
Perhaps it’s because I’m exhausted or nauseous or both, but I relent, nodding my consent.
I wait until Ailsa motions for me to take the glass of water from her. I grip it with trembling hands like a lifeline. She grasps the small spoon—if you can call it that; I don’t think it’s even a quarter the size of a teaspoon—inside the jar and grazes the top of the powder with the indented end.
With surprising steadiness of hand, she carries it over my glass and sets the spoon inside without spilling any. The white powder sinks to the bottom before she mixes it, until it’s impossible to tell she put anything in there at all.
As it disappears in front of my eyes, I wonder how many people have thought to use Devil’s Breath as a deadly poison.I don’t want to know.
“I hope yer worth all this trouble, Miss Hawkins,” Ailsa murmurs. “Arturo tol’ me vera little abou’ yer nan, bu’ she certainly kens the right people.”
I pry my gaze from the swirling and potentially-poisoned concoction I’m meant to consume, curious how much my nonna has told Arturo about me.
