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An unfamiliar scent tickles my nose, and I stiffen. “Do you smell that?”
I look at Jesse, and he inhales deeply before shaking his head. “I don’t smell anything.”
“It’s kind of sickly sweet. Like decomposing flowers,” I say slowly, the scent growing stronger.
Jesse looks at Erik and Leif, who both shake their heads. I move forward, following the scent toward the buildings. I hear footsteps behind me as the others follow, and the scent grows stronger as I stop in front of the largest building. Turning, I meet Jesse’s gaze.
“It’s coming from in there,” I say, pointing toward the wall where the front door hangs open at an odd angle.
Jesse inhales again and shakes his head. “I can’t smell anything out of the ordinary, Eden.”
“How can you not?” I gasp as the scent engulfs me, and I gag, a little. “It’s overwhelming.”
“You’re describing the scent of old magic,” Erik murmurs, “but I don’t smell it, either.”
“Magic?” I gasp, then ignoring several shouts of protest, dart toward the building.
Shoving the gaping door open, I rush inside. I barely register the barren interior before pain erupts in my skull. I scream, digging my fingers into my head as I bend at the waist. I drop to my knees before falling sideways, landing on the dusty floor and curling into myself as my screams bounce off the walls.
Then the screams cut off abruptly as everything goes black.
7
A TRAIL OF BREADCRUMBS
Pain lances through my head as I blink my eyes open. The one-room cabin is darker than before, and a pungent scent fills my nostrils as I take an unnecessary breath. A groan slips between my lips as I sit up, my eyes darting around the dim space to find the source of that horrible smell of rotting flowers.
How long was I out?
It was early afternoon when I ran into the building. I remember screaming and falling to the floor as pain erupted in my skull, before the sweet relief of oblivion overtook me. Where are the others? Did they leave me in here, alone?
A scream vibrates in my ears, and I’m on my feet in an instant, spinning around to locate the source of the sound. I sway on my feet as a wave of dizziness washes over me. Once my equilibrium evens out, I freeze. A woman in a long white gown lays on a table I’m sure wasn’t in here before, panting and groaning as another woman swipes a wet rag across her brow. Her hair is sweaty and matted to her head, her face red in the light of a roaring fire in the hearth.
What the fuck is going on here?
My eyes travel down the length of the prostrate woman, my eyes widening as I take in her large, protruding belly and bare, spread legs. A third woman is bent over, peering between her thighs. She straightens, bracing her palms on the pregnant woman’s knees and speaks in an authoritative tone.
“I can see the head. You need to push on your next contraction, Bethany.”
Bethany?
“I can’t,” the laboring woman grits out between clenched teeth. “I can’t do this anymore. Make it stop, Greenly. I’m so tired.”
“Come now, ma cherie,” the woman near her head says in a light French accent as she takes Bethany’s hand. “You’re so strong and brave. You can do this.”
“No,” Bethany whines, shaking her head chaotically.
“Hello?” I call out, speaking for the first time. “I’m sorry to intrude, but I don’t know how I got here.”
No one so much as flinches at the sound of my voice, and I take a step forward, further into the light of the fire, and wave a hand around, trying to get their attention.
“Oh, gods,” Bethany groans, her breathing growing harsher as her entire body tenses.
“That’s it, girl,” the woman between her legs says, bending low again. “Now, push.”
I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be witnessing this private moment. I turn to find the door, spotting it on the wall to my left. I turn to head in that direction, but another scream stops me in my tracks. I look back toward the women as Bethany screams yet again, the sound piercing my supposedly indestructible eardrums.
The midwife––that’s what she is, right? She must be––shouts as her hands grip a small, bloody body and lift it into the air. The French woman rushes toward her with a small scrap of material, wrapping it around the newborn and turning to face the new mother.
