Malcolm saw Kate cradling Charlotte. Imogen stood over them and Penny looked up at Malcolm with a reassuring smile. She nodded as if to say that everything would be fine. Charlotte’s chest rose and fell. Malcolm watched the lass breathe slowly in and out. Her blistered face was relaxed.
For the first time, Malcolm truly understood what Simon was about. Simon would do anything to protect those he loved. Incredibly, so would Malcolm. These people had crawled their way into his heart and he cared about all of them. Even Simon.
The pain in Malcolm’s heart changed.
Chapter 10
It was the next evening and Kate’s laboratory was in a state of organized chaos. Separate experiments bubbled furiously in different corners of the room. Wulfsyl was brewing on one table near the back. More black treacle and her special elixir vitae were being processed on a bench by the door. She allowed herself small burners because Ferghus was comatose, and even if he was not, they were sure to be more careful to prevent him washing off the flame-retardant gel.
Imogen sat in a chair nearby, fiddling with the wrist of her sleeve, having given yet another sample of her blood for the never-ending tests. Kate watched her curiously. Normally, Imogen would suffer through the bleeding with impatience, then depart as soon as Kate released her. This evening, she lingered, staring at bottles and vials without real interest, looking into the darkness outside. She yawned and held herself with the stiff posture of someone who was overly tired, but refusing to yield.
Imogen’s odd behavior might have come from her distress over Charlotte, but the young girl was healing with remarkable facility. The burns still covered much of Charlotte’s body, and she was clearly in pain, but she was already able to talk and move about. Her werewolf physiology was amazing, and Imogen knew that Charlotte would heal with time.
“You should go to bed, dear.” Kate tried to sound conversational as she labeled tubes of her sister’s blood.
“I’m not tired.” Imogen stared at the two lanterns on Kate’s table glowing with the eldritch light of brownies. She yawned again.
“You seem very tired.”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
Kate then realized the dilemma as she watched her sister’s head droop. Imogen had taken such strides forward since Bedlam that Kate had almost forgotten. “Imogen, you may take one of the lanterns.”
Imogen straightened and spun. Her nearly featureless face shone in the stark light. She protested, “I’m not afraid of the dark. Perhaps I was once, but not now.”
Kate nodded. “I know you’re not, dear. But the house is very dangerous. There is a great deal of wreckage. I’d feel better if you had a lantern.”
The tension in Imogen’s features faded. “Are you sure? Don’t you need them for your work?”
“One will do nicely. Please, take it.”
A pale hand lifted the lantern and she went to the door. When she stepped out into the black hallway, the light threw off a bit of comfort around her. She regarded Kate with a look of gratitude that didn’t need explanation.
“Good night, Imogen.”
“Good night.” Imogen’s voice was relieved. She shut the door behind her, leaving Kate alone in the laboratory.
Kate sighed and slipped the blood vials into a rack. She thought of Imogen who was walking the dark house on her own. They should all be so brave. And then she turned to her desk where the current challenge to her own bravery rested.
Ash’s blood scroll.
Flasks and a few dusty tomes that held the only references she could find relating to the magic within the spell held down the corners of the ancient parchment. The apparatus before her held what had been a sample of her own blood. It had been transformed by the spell into a state she no longer recognized as blood. It had turned a lighter color and thicker, like honey. It almost mimicked the current state of Imogen’s blood. Kate assumed that Ash used such new blood from her victims to preserve her youth and power. She probably bathed in it and her necromancy would allow her to absorb the vitality from it. This must have been how Ash returned to power after her brush with Ra. However, Kate found that the altered blood quickly turned black, rendering it inert and useless. This was a spell that clearly required precise timing. It also needed a vast amount of fresh blood, meaning murder and exsanguination.
The dark spell both thrilled and terrified her. It held secrets she was determined to unlock, and not just for Simon’s sake. Hope welled up inside Kate like a hot geyser that couldn’t be capped. She hadn’t told her sister about it. She couldn’t bear Imogen’s disappointment if she failed.