This Wicked Fate (This Poison Heart #2)(34)

Circe’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know what people think witchcraft means in this day and age. And honestly, I don’t care what anybody has to say about what we do here, one way or the other. Witches?” She looked thoughtful. “I’m okay with that. Especially if it means people keep their distance.” She bit down on her lip like she’d said the quiet part out loud. “What do you think?”

“About being a witch? I don’t really know. When I think of witches I think of crystals and incense and people always talkin’ about lightwork and good vibes.”

Circe laughed. “I mean, that’s the image you get shown, right?” She took off her glasses and massaged her temple before putting them back on. “People get a little sage, a few crystals, and think they’re Marie Laveau.” Her eyes wandered to the hidden door where the altar for Hecate was hidden. “What we practice, what we believe, is something that has been passed down through the generations. It’s something we have access to because it is quite literally in our blood. Other people can call it whatever they like. I’m a witch, sure, but if you ever hear me talkin’ about lightwork please know I have lost my entire mind.”

“My grandma knows about plants, herbs, that kind of stuff. My auntie Leti, too.”

Circe smiled but it was all mouth and no creases at the corner of her eyes. I ran back over what I’d said and realized it was the auntie part that seemed to have struck her. Of course it did. Circe was my auntie, too, but I didn’t know if I was ready to say that yet.

I opened my mouth to speak but she beat me to it.

“You don’t owe me anything, Briseis. Not a title, not your time, not a conversation. Nothing. I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give.”

I covered her hand with mine. “I just need a little time to adjust.”

She nodded. “And we have a lot of work to do in the meantime, so don’t feel like you have to rush.”

The vines that had tangled themselves around my leg climbed to my waist.

Circe eyed them carefully. “This kind of thing’s been happening to you forever, hasn’t it? The plants sort of wake up when you’re around?”

I nodded. “I used to try and ignore it but I can’t do that anymore.”

“It’s like telling your body not to breathe. It’s just not possible.” She stared down at the vines. “And when you’re angry or scared or sad, they’ll come to you just like this. And they’ll do what you ask of them. You must be cautious of that. Don’t underestimate what you’re capable of with them as your allies.” She turned back to her case and began taking an inventory of what she had, jotting down notes on a piece of paper.

Marie’s voice, and then Persephone’s, carried in from somewhere outside and cut through my thoughts. The window was cracked, and I figured they must have circled around the back of the house. As I approached the window their muffled voices became clearer.

“I’m not telling you what to do,” Persephone said, her voice tight, angry.

“I’d never do anything to hurt her,” Marie said.

“I know. I can see you’re attached. But don’t you get it? That’s what is going to hurt her the most.”

“I can’t just turn off how I feel,” Marie shot back. “I know you’re weary, Seph. I can see it in your face. But don’t act like I’m supposed to be okay with this. It’s killing me.”

I leaned closer to the open window.

“Didn’t you guess?” Persephone asked. “If the pieces have to be reunited—” She sighed. “You have to tell her,” Persephone said sternly. “And sooner is better than later.”

“You know what she’s been through?” Marie asked. “Her mom died right in front of her.”

My stomach twisted into a knot at the bluntness of her words. I gripped the sill to steady myself.

It must have been Persephone who sighed so heavily it carried up to where I was. “And how do you think she’s going to feel when the same thing happens to you?”

“You don’t know that,” Marie said angrily. “What happened to you? You used to be—”

“I know what I used to be!” Persephone shouted. “I don’t need a lecture from you.”

I glanced at Circe, who simply shook her head and busied herself with the miniature apothecary bottles.

“I’m not going to make a guess about what’s going to happen,” Marie said. “And I don’t give a shit about what some dusty old hag in the bowels of a museum has to say either.”

“Keep on with that attitude, Marie, but let’s be clear,” Persephone said. “You don’t have to guess at what’s going to happen. We’re all going to die.”





CHAPTER 10

My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach. I disentangled myself from the Devil’s Pet that had encircled my ankles and went to the apothecary door. “I’ll be right back.”

“You good?” Circe asked, peering at me over the top of her glasses.

I nodded and went to the hallway, pulled on my sneakers, and rushed out the front door. I ran directly into Marie. She didn’t budge, but I bounced off her and almost crashed back through the doorway. She caught me by the wrist and pulled me back up to standing.