The Whimsy Witch Who Wasn't - Donna Augustine Page 0,77
not to touch where my flesh was mutilated.
“Don’t worry. I can fix it. What happened?” He began climbing the stairs on the left. For some reason I’d assumed he was taking me to my bedroom. I didn’t care where I went if he could fix me.
“I was getting cocoa. I left the Sweet Shop, and there they were. I didn’t do anything. I don’t know why they came after me.” I sucked in a breath as his arm grazed my leg.
He tried to shift slightly, righting the position as he continued. “How did you get them to leave?”
“I didn’t. They just stopped. Oh God,” I said as suddenly a wave of stinging pain swelled, feeling like a thousand bees were stinging me all at one. It ebbed as suddenly as it had come on.
“That’s the poison beginning to work. Try to remain calm. I don’t want your heart to beat too hard.”
I would’ve argued over how stupid that suggestion was if my heart rate wouldn’t have accelerated.
“Am I going to… Will I…” My biggest concern leaving the Sweet Shop had been making it back to Salem. Now I wasn’t sure I’d make it out of this building again, let alone back to Rest.
“You’ll be fine,” he said.
There were many levels to what someone could think was fine. It could be right above horrible or right below good and anywhere in between. Fine was very open to interpretation, which was why I didn’t ask him any more questions. This was one of those times I’d rather not know. Plus, another wave of stinging pain was spreading up my legs and stealing all my thoughts.
By the time the last wave of stinging subsided, we were at the door that had led us outside into the forest or to a sitting room. When he opened it this time, it was a bedroom. The walls were the darkest navy that seemed to blend into nothing. When I looked upward, I saw a night sky, except it wasn’t cold as it should’ve been, and there was no fifth wind. That wasn’t to say it was exactly warm, but more like a chilly spring evening.
“Are we…” I looked at the walls, then the sky again.
“It’s an illusion—sort of,” he said, placing me down on the large bed. He waved a hand and the fireplace roared to life.
There were no windows. Only the fireplace and the stars above shed light on some trunks and fur rugs scattered about a wooden floor. I wasn’t sure where we were now, but we definitely weren’t in the building. There was a feel to this place that was hard to define but much different, like it had some of the sizzle of Hawk’s magic infused in the air.
“What’s a grouslie?” I asked as he kneeled before me, took another look at my legs, and stood.
“A grouslie is a creature that comes from the Unsettled Lands, or so we believe. They haven’t been seen in these parts for centuries, and even before then, we weren’t completely sure where they came from.”
“I guess I came when they were making a rebound.”
He didn’t laugh as he moved about the room, gathering bottles from different trunks and bringing them to a table, where he poured them together.
“And the grouslies just left?” he asked while he worked.
“Yes. Maybe I tasted too bitter for them.” I laughed at my own joke, knowing it wasn’t that funny.
His profile was toward me as he continued to work. “Did someone else come along? Were you alone the entire time?” His intensity seemed to increase as he waited for an answer.
“I was alone as much as I can recall.” After the grouslies were chewing me up alive, there was definitely room for error. I sucked in a breath as another round of stinging began. It was worse than the previous times and felt as if it were crawling up my legs, working its way into my veins, and trying to spread farther.
He turned, a bowl in his hand, as he knelt in front of me. “Try to be still. It’s going to hurt, but I’ve got to neutralize the poison before it kills you or your flesh blackens and rots off.”
“Oh God,” I said, and then closed my mouth, fearing I might vomit. I had to get out of this place. Had to. I couldn’t live in a place that had killer rats that poisoned you. If I was stuck here too much longer, I was going to crack. I’d split