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The blood built to a drop and fell. It hit the surface of the water, making little red ripples as it sunk to the bottom.
This is so freaking weird.
Another drop fell shortly after the last.
What am I even doing?
As soon as the third drop hit the water, Abigail handed her a tissue then slid the bowl closer to herself. The witch scanned the surface for several seconds but said nothing. Levian hovered over the table to get a better look.
“When do we—” start, Gwen tried to ask.
“Shhh!” Abigail hissed, her eyes glued to the bowl.
Gwen grimaced. They might as well have gone to a carnival for a palm reading because she felt just as silly.
“Hmmm,” Abigail grumbled eventually. Gwen’s eyes shot to the bowl, but nothing had changed. The little lifeless beetles still floated amongst all the other bric-a-brac in the water.
The witch tapped the edge of the bowl with her nail. Tendrils of steam began to lift off the surface. All the floating matter sunk beneath the water down to the bottom, like the bowl was gobbling it up bit by bit.
Gwen’s heart pounded in her ears. Well, damn. She leaned in a little closer, along with Levian.
Abigail watched the water with intense focus. Almost like she was entranced. She delicately dipped her manicured pinkie finger into the water, and the ripple it caused glowed dark blue. The same blue Levian had managed to draw out of Gwen with her revealing spell in London.
Fear twisted Gwen’s insides so tightly she couldn’t breathe. It only got worse when Abigail began to mumble softly under her breath. The water went cloudy. Then black. The tendrils rising from the surface shifted into dark shadows.
A cold sweat broke out over Gwen’s whole body. That can’t be good.
Levian leaned further, bracing her hands on the table, her many necklaces trailing over the tablecloth.
Abigail continued her muttering. She poured more vials into the bowl, the contents of each disappearing beneath the black.
On and on it went, until every last item was lost in the murky water. When there was nothing left, Abigail tapped the bowl again. The water went clear. All the things she’d dropped into it had vanished.
The witch leaned back in her chair and let out a deep breath.
Gwen and Levian watched her wide-eyed. Waiting. “Well?” the mage pressed impatiently when Abigail took too long for her liking.
Abigail cocked a brow and went about straightening her necklace. “Unfortunately, there isn’t much to tell,” she replied curtly.
Gwen’s heart sank. She knew this was all one big load of crap.
“Your magicks are heavily shielded,” Abigail went on. “All I can say is that they’re not elemental in nature.”
Levian let out a whoosh of air. “Well, that is something,” she conceded as she sat back in her chair. “Could you see anything of her parentage?”
The mention of parents sent a jolt up Gwen’s spine. When Levian had casually tried to ask her about them, Gwen told her exactly what she knew. Nothing. She could barely remember her mother and knew nothing about her father. The idea of finding out about them in this way was—a lot.
“I sensed the presence of a mage’s magick,” Abigail replied. The witch glanced over to Gwen. Her heart lurched into her throat. “But I can’t be sure if it was by blood.” Her heart slammed right back down.
“Could it be binding magick?” Levian asked, moving on.
“She isn’t cursed or bewitched,” Abigail replied. “It could be binding magick of some sort, but none that I’m aware of. That’s all I know for certain.”
The mage sighed in frustration, her face twisted in deep thought, her nails thrumming across the surface of the table.
“Where did it come from?” Gwen asked, desperate for something. “What am I?”
Abigail looked at her with sympathy. “I would only be guessing.”
