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For one thing, he’d never seen that particular expression on Maeve’s face. Her cheeks looked drawn, almost sunken and the light blue of her eyes had dulled out, clouds on a usually sunny day. “What’s wrong? Are you upset about Kiara? She’ll be okay. You’ll see.”
She shook her head. She didn’t meet his gaze either. For a half second, he wondered if she was drugged.
She gestured with an uneven wave of her hand toward her workbench. The wood surface was pristine except for two small ceramic dishes, one black, one white. “I made something for you.”
He sniffed the air. “It smells bad.”
“I know. But it’s for you.”
He found it difficult to read either Maeve or the situation. She definitely wasn’t herself. And why had she made something for him that smelled like it could eat through metal? The stench at Veyda’s kill room had carried a similar odor.
He approached the table. She drew close as well. Using a bay leaf, she swiped it over what looked like green toothpaste. “Hold out your arm.”
He trusted her, so he did as she commanded. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Please turn your arm over, palm up. Good. That will do.”
She drew close and flip
ped the bay leaf over, paste down. She pressed the substance onto his arm.
He didn’t feel anything at first, then the paste began to heat up. She peeled the bay leaf off and suddenly the mixture began to burn. “What have you done? Maeve? Get this off me.”
The burn became a flame eating into his skin. The pain had him shouting. She moved out of the way as he ran to the sink. He turned on the water and slid his arm underneath, but the flow seemed to intensify the spell. He grabbed a paper towel to try to get rid of the paste, but by then his skin was bubbling and bleeding. The pain was so severe, he shouted.
He turned to her. “Maeve! Help me! Get this off me!”
She stood very still. Tears poured down her cheeks.
“Maeve!”
He held his arm. He shouted. He screamed.
Finally, she moved to the white dish. Using another bay leaf, she scooped up a creamy substance the color of eggshells. She approached him. “Hold out your arm. This will stop the spell.”
He had no choice.
The moment the cream touched the burn, it eased quickly into all parts of the wound and the pain ceased. He watched the tissue heal swiftly and his skin come back together as though nothing had happened.
When the pain was gone, he had sweat pouring off every inch of his skin. He wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his t-shirt. He was breathing hard and his heart pounded. The residual effect of the pain had him shaking with adrenaline. He could smell the poisonous paste, as well as his burned flesh, hanging in the air. He hadn’t imagined it.
He stood very still, staring at her. “What’s going on? Why did you just do this to me?” He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to trust her again.
Maeve grabbed tissues from the box on the counter, wiped her face and blew her nose. “That’s what Veyda did to your wife. To Laura. I was there. I’m remembering now. I remember it all.”
He still struggled to breathe. Why was she talking about Laura? He already knew she’d been tortured.
He leaned against the sink. “I know Veyda hurt her like this, but why did you do this to me?”
“Because I need you to know just a small part of what she suffered that night otherwise you’ll never understand.”
“Why?” The question seemed critical. Yet, he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer.
She started talking again about that night, about standing near Veyda, of hearing her voice in her head, of watching the dark fog roll away from the victim’s body. “Braden. It was Laura.”
A terrible sensation descended on him, like he was caught in a nightmare he couldn’t escape.
“Laura begged me to end her suffering. She was in more pain than you can imagine. Even though I’ve given you a taste of what she endured, try to picture the same poison all over your torso and your thighs. Can you do that?”
