I looked around to see if anyone had followed them. Satisfied that it was just the two of them, I stepped aside. “Of course. Come inside, quickly.” After locking the door, I turned to face the sullen couple, gesturing to the sofa. “Please, sit down.”
A shocked gasp escaped the man as he made his way around the sofa. His face paled as he took in the two mountain cats lounging on the rug in front of the fireplace.
“Oh, sorry. They’re totally harmless… for the most part. Girls, do you mind?” I hurried over to Nocturna and Astra, shooing them out of the space.
Nocturna and Astra slowly got up. They took their time to stretch their limbs before lazily lumbering to my bedroom. Nocturna made sure she brushed against the frightened man’s legs as she went by. A visible chill ran through him.
“Please, sit.” I motioned toward the sofa. I had chosen the warm, comfortable setting by the fire purposely to put patients who had been brave enough to seek my help at ease. “What is it that you need help with?”
The woman sat down at the opposite end of the sofa, angledaway from her husband. Barely on the edge of the cushion, she leaned forward, clutching the bundle as close to herself as she possibly could. Her entire body was trembling. It was as if she feared whatever she was holding would be taken away from her. “It’s our daughter, Willow. She’s been sick with a cold for the last couple of weeks. We’ve done everything the Children of the Celestial Mothers have instructed, but she’s only been getting worse and…” The woman started to cry.
I looked closer at the bundle in her arms and realized that what she was holding was a small baby. I approached the mother cautiously, reaching my hands out toward the child. “May I?”
The mother nodded. Hesitation gripped her. Her tortured face scanned mine, then the room around us. When she made eye contact with her husband, he gave a brief nod. Whatever permission she was looking for in this silent discussion between them was received. After several silent seconds, she let loose a deep breath and reluctantly passed the baby over to me.
I pulled back the cloth that swaddled the baby, and my heart dropped. She was pale as the Nightwood mists. Her breaths were shallow and wet. Likely pneumonia. Chances of survival: razor-thin. Even with my magic.
“Are you able to tell me what you and the Children of the Celestial Mothers have done for her?” I asked, doing my best to keep my voice calm and steady as I laid the baby down on the small table in the living room. I looked up at Forrest, who had just come back into the living room with his head wrapped. “Can you put some more wood on this fire? We need to warm this little one up. Fast.”
Forrest nodded. Sensing the urgency of the situation, he swiftly added more wood to the fire. Afterward he stood ready, waiting for my next order.
I looked up at the reticent parents on the sofa and smiled weakly. “Ma’am? Sir? Are you able to tell me what has been done for yourchild?” I didn’t want to frighten them more than they already were, but time was running out for this little one.
The woman spared her husband an unkind glance before leaning toward me and the baby. “Two weeks ago she came down with a slight cold. I was able to manage it on my own with some things I had picked up from Magda’s.” The woman began wringing her hands furiously, her face twisting with pain. “But no matter what I did, she continued to get sicker, and I knew I couldn’t manage it on my own anymore. I wanted to bring her to you then, but my husband refused.” Her eyes glared fiercely at her husband. He was easily a foot taller than her, but at that moment, he appeared so small.
“All right, so you gave her some cold remedy. That didn’t seem to help. What else was done?” The sense of urgency building within me was becoming almost unmanageable, as every word spoken was taking time away from helping the fragile being in front of me.
The woman returned her fiery gaze to me and her baby. “He said we should take her to the sanctuary and let them help her. We took her there every day, like they said we should. We made offerings to Vikteriya, and they prayed to the goddesses on Willow’s behalf.”
“So they did nothing for her,” I interjected as I looked between the man and woman. The tension between the two was evident by the distance they kept from each other on the sofa.
The woman nodded curtly, taking a moment to compose herself before continuing. “Tonight she took a turn for the worse, and we rushed her over to the sanctuary for help. Maxx looked us in the eye and told us that this was all part of the goddesses’ plan, and we had to accept that. They wouldn’t do anything more for her.” She hung her head, sobs taking over.
The man finally spoke up. “If we had been more devoted to the Celestial Mothers, we wouldn’t be in this situation.” He glanced over at his wife, who was refusing to acknowledge him.
I looked to Forrest. “Can you please go to the cellar and grab some of the menthol salve and peppermint tincture?”
Forrest nodded and headed into the kitchen to grab the items.
The man’s matter-of-fact tone regarding their lack of devotion grated against me. Anger churned in my gut as I looked up from the child. It was taking everything within me to keep my face neutral at that moment. “Do you believe that’s the problem here? That you didn’t throw enough of your coin at the Children? Not that they did absolutely nothing to help your child?”
The man stared back at me. The lack of response was an answer in itself. He was doing his best to be an obedient follower, while his wife had no interest in protecting the Cult of Children and their inaction.
Getting back to the task at hand, I unwrapped some of the blanket around the baby to gain access to her chest. Her breaths were short and wet. Every one, a struggling exertion for life. “Stay with us, little one,” I whispered as I gently kissed her forehead. I closed my eyes and let the warmth of my healing magic rise within me.
I heard Forrest walk up briskly behind me. “I’ve got what you asked for, Aurelia.” The usual magic in his voice had been replaced by a dull sadness.
I grabbed the salve and tincture from Forrest and got to work. I gently opened the baby’s mouth and administered a tiny drop of the peppermint tincture under her tongue. My chest tightened as she barely made a face at the taste. I then placed a generous slathering of the menthol salve onto her chest, rubbing it in circular motions with my fingertips. I closed my eyes and let the rising warming sensation of my magic flow from my chest, down my arms, and into the small, dying child on the table.
Off in the distance, I could hear the father questioning what I was doing. Forrest was asking him to remain calm and let me do my work. The pulsing sensation of the tiny heart beneath my hand brought my focus back onto my task. I willed my magic to flowthrough her, ignoring the icy darkness I could sense creeping in. My eyes started to water, and my heart felt heavy. My magic could do many wonderful things, and it had saved countless people, but I had yet to win a battle with the goddess of death.
I looked up at the father and wearily asked, “What do you think the purpose of this is? How does a baby dying play into the goddesses’ wonderful plan for us all?” I looked back down at the baby, tears welling in my eyes.
The father hesitated before responding, choosing his words carefully. “It is not for us to figure out what their plans are. I have to trust that they know something I don’t, and that good things will come from all of this.”
I snorted. I honestly couldn’t believe this man. Here he was, watching his daughter die. He couldn’t genuinely believe that something good might come from this.
I continued to massage the menthol salve into the baby’s chest. My magic flowed unfettered through me to the sick child. It was like it understood how dire the situation was. Despite my willingness, and my magic’s ability, I could feel the small baby’s life slipping through my fingers. The chilled darkness I had felt earlier was becoming more and more pronounced. A few seconds later, she took in one last shallow, agonizing little breath. Then nothing but stillness. “No. Please, no,” I uttered, tears falling down my cheeks.
