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I couldn’t tell if she recognized me or not. She didn’t say anything. Her expression of general sourness didn’t change.
“Eliza, I want to talk to you. I came all the way down from Chattanooga to see you. How, uh, how are you doing these days, huh?” I found myself softening the edges of the words, like I was talking to a sick child.
“Louise,” she barked.
I jumped. Her voice was stronger than she looked. “No, I’m not—I’m not Louise,” I told her. If she heard me, she didn’t believe me.
“That girl, I think she killed him,” she said. “Otherwise, he’d come home. ” There was sadness there, and betrayal, and something else I couldn’t put a finger on.
I thought about arguing with her, and telling her the truth—that her nephew was alive and well and safe in north Florida. I thought about telling her that he hadn’t come back because she was the one who betrayed him. But it wouldn’t have meant anything, and she wouldn’t have believed me about that, either.
It hurt her to think that he was dead, but I suspected it would hurt her more if she knew he wasn’t, that he stayed away because he chose to. But that one was Malachi’s to fix, if he felt like it. It wasn’t up to me.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I told her, playing along. “My sympathies on that nephew of yours. ” I could have said more, but I had a feeling that Lu would’ve stopped there, so I stopped too.
Eliza nodded as if she accepted the sympathies, even though she was aware they weren’t heartfelt. Sometimes, appearances really are everything.
“Tatie, something’s wrong with Eden. I don’t know what, and I don’t know who to ask. You were the only one I could think of. ”
She made a little “harrumph” noise to say she didn’t give two little shits what was wrong with me, but her sense of schadenfreude had been alerted and she wanted to know more. “What is it?”
I leaned forward to put my elbows on my knees, then thought better of it. If she got a good look at me, she might figure out I wasn’t Louise and then I’d be a mile back from square one, if I was lucky.
“She’s having trouble with . . . with visions. And when she sees the dead, it takes a lot out of her—even though she always recovers quickly. Too quickly, really,” I mumbled. “Every encounter costs her more. ”
Eliza nodded, this time with a smile. “It’s the draught. Dumb girl drank it. ”
“But what did it do?”
“Nothing bad to me, because I never saw the dead. But if a crazy little thing like you were to take it . . . ”
It came out of her in a rush. It came out quick, and clear, and she looked dead at me and I could tell that she knew me. She knew I wasn’t Louise. She looks down on Louise, but she doesn’t hate her like she hates me, so it was easy to see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice.
Then it was gone as fast as it had happened. She settled back down onto her pillow and shut her eyes again.
“A witch has to be more careful. ” It was another full sentence, but not as snappy as before. “Didn’t know what she was doing. Dumb girl. ”
“So what did it do to her? Your medicine, I mean? Did it hurt her?”
“Who knows?” She attempted a little shrug there on the bed, but it only barely showed. “Avery might’ve known. He’s dead now. ”
“Is there anyone else who’d know? I know you don’t want to help her, but I thought maybe we could make some kind of deal. ”
“A deal?” She laughed until she coughed, and it sounded like she was spitting up dust. “You can’t make a deal with me. I don’t even want more time. Not anymore. ”
“Jesus, Eliza. What’s wrong with her? Just tell me, for God’s sake. It don’t cost you nothing, and heaven’s watching. ”
“There’s no fixing her. Two-way street,” she said.
“I don’t get it. ”
“She goes closer to them, they come closer to her. ” Her eyes were still closed. She twisted her thin little hands in the nightgown, balling up the fabric in her fists. “That’s how it works. ”
I shook my head, even though she couldn’t see me. “That doesn’t help much. ”
Eliza snorted, a tiny bit. It breezed through her nose like a baby’s sneeze. “If she’s close enough to touch them, they’re close enough to touch her. ”
She started coughing again, weakly and with some halfhearted thrashing. When she settled down, she picked up the thread of thought. “It’s no gift. No power. Touch and be touched, that’s all. ”
