Page 14 of The Heartless One
“Thank you,” Jessamine whispered. She squeezed his hand, and he knew he’d done something right, even if it was just to satisfy the needs of a witch who wasn’t even a witch.
Watching the two women walk out of the room, all he could thinkwas that he’d gotten himself in bigger trouble than he’d thought. Because here he was, expecting a powerful new coven member, and all he’d gotten was a parrot on a table.
Sighing, he looked down at the bird, which was lying eerily like a human in a coma. “All right, you,” he muttered. “Let’s see what magic we can muster.”
Jessamine guided the new witch into the kitchen and sat her down at the table that was covered with a patchwork quilt. Elissa was shaking like a leaf, her entire body in a state of shock.
Leaving Elissa to her thoughts, Jessamine set about making her a cup of tea. Shockingly, she hadn’t been pooped on yet. She was more of a lady than Elric was a gentleman, so she had yet to mention it. But while she was tossing the leaves into the teapot and waiting for the kettle to shriek, she noticed one of the birds did poop. In a flash, the refuse was caught by magic and whisked away out the kitchen window.
She’d never seen magic so readily used, especially not in a district so close to the castle.
The Pleasure District got away with a lot more than the rest of the kingdom. After all, if magic was used to entertain, then surely it wasn’t all that dangerous. As long as it amused the rich and the powerful, it wasn’t scary.
“Here we are,” she said. The kettle whistled, she poured the boiling water, and collected two matching teacups with bees painted on the sides. She set everything in front of Elissa, who still looked like she’d seen a ghost, and then attempted to get the woman out of her own feelings.
“This is a lovely tablecloth.” Jessamine fingered the hand-stitched edges.
“My mother made it.”
“Such precise stitches.”
“Better than me.” Elissa’s hands were still shaking as she lifted the cup to her mouth and took a rather loud, unladylike sip. “She would never have made a mistake like this.”
“All witches make mistakes. It’s hard not to when you’re given so much power but have no one to teach you how to wield it.” Or at least, that’s what she assumed.
“Are you a witch?”
Should Jessamine lie? It seemed wrong to do so when they’d only just met and Jessamine needed this woman to help them. A contact in the Pleasure District, especially one with Elissa’s connections, would only aid their cause.
“Not really,” she replied. “I’m a gravesinger.”
Oh, it was the wrong thing to say. Elissa froze again, staring at her with wide eyes as the blood yet again drained from her features. Either the woman was very expressive, or she was going to have a terrible headache with all these terror responses.
“A gravesinger?” Elissa repeated. “Like…thegravesinger?”
“Well, from what I understand, there used to be more of us.”
“You’re the one who raised him?”
“Resurrected,” she couldn’t help but correct. “But yes.”
“Oh.” The rattling teacup was set down on its dish, and Elissa then planted her hand on the table. “I think I need to lie down.”
Jessamine leapt up and grabbed Elissa by the shoulders. She was already weaving where she stood, and if she wasn’t careful, she was going to pass out on her own kitchen floor. “Why don’t you sit down and put your head between your legs for a second? Catch your breath, have another sip of tea, and then we’ll talk some more. I promise, nothing bad is going to happen to you.”
A knock on the door made Elissa nearly slide out of her chair before it burst open and Sybil strode through. She wore a new scarf around her head, a rather pretty crimson color with black butterflies hand-painted on it. Her coiled hair was now swept back to show her gleaming skin, Nyxriding on her shoulders like a warrior going into battle. “I stole this from my cousin, and then your god summoned me.”
“In the back.”
“Good enough.” Sybil didn’t even acknowledge the other woman in the room, walking through the house like she owned the place before disappearing into the back room.
Elissa made a soft sound in the back of her throat. “Who was that? And was that a cat?”
“Sybil, another coven member. And yes, a cat. My familiar. She’ll behave herself.” Jessamine knelt between the other woman’s legs, holding on to her hands as though she could give Elissa some point of grounding. “Listen, from my understanding, when you sacrificed to the Deathless One, you willingly became part of his coven. You worship him, do you not?”
Still far too pale, Elissa’s gaze met hers with frantic intensity. She whispered, “I didn’t think he was really alive.”
“None of us did. But that’s quite all right, don’t you think? He’s going to help you. And now you’re part of something so much larger. A coven. Isn’t that what your mother always wanted?” Perhaps it was a bit manipulative, but Jessamine knew how to convince someone to accept their mistakes.
