Wicked Chill (Away From Whipplethorn Book Four)

by Hartoin, A. W.

  “Those will work on this,” she asked.

  “It will work on me, if I need it. Give me three drops of each.”

  I think she protested, but I wasn’t looking. I pressed my hands on Bentha’s chest and Fidelé moved to his side and placed his claws on my hands. He’d never done anything like that before. Ibn said something about his gargoyle helping him, but I’d never seen any evidence until that moment. With Fidelé claws poking into my skin, I did as Ibn had taught me so well. I saw inside Bentha. It was the easiest that it had ever been for me. I wasn’t ill or injured. I was whole and that realization helped me move through his torso, seeing first his left heart. It was partially healed. So was the center heart. The scar tissue was considerable, but I’d take any kind of healing at that point.

  It was the right heart that gave me pause. It was uninjured, but the sac that surrounded the heart was swollen with fluid. The heart was struggling and the more it struggled, the harder it would be for Bentha to heal. Miss Penrose wouldn’t like it, but there was only one thing to do. I couldn’t repair the other two hearts and help the one working one. The injured ones might take some time to start beating again, so I couldn’t take the chance. I breathed deeply and concentrated. Pain spread through my chest. I could barely breathe. Someone yanked me back and I fell onto the cold stone floor. Looking up at the ceiling I gasped and clutched my chest.

  Miss Penrose leaned over me. “Now?”

  I managed to nod and opened my lips. Miss Penrose dropped the ma huang and meadowsweet onto my tongue and then closed my jaw. I felt the oils absorb into my tongue and the swollen feeling eased a little, not enough. The pain was too great.

  “White willow,” I whispered with what little breath I had.

  She and Horc dug through the new medical bag. Horc held up a bag of white willow tea. I shook my head. They kept looking and my vision started to narrow. The pain was so great and like nothing I’d ever experienced. It was at the core of me. My heart was suffering.

  Miss Penrose held up a vial of white willow tincture and I opened my mouth. She gave me three drops. The pain eased. I indicated I wanted three more and after those three I could breathe, although the pain was still very much there.

  “You shouldn’t have done it,” she said.

  “Yes, she should have,” said Horc.

  “That’s your sister. How can you say that? She could die.”

  “Matilda won’t die.” Horc sounded certain, but after that pain I wasn’t so sure.

  I rolled over and, with their help, got back on the mattress with Bentha. “Listen to his right heart,” I said weakly. “Estimate the beats.”

  Miss Penrose bit her lip and listened.

  “How many per minute do you think?” I asked.

  “It’s not good.” Tears sprung to her eyes. “It didn’t work.”

  It didn’t work? No. It had to. I had his pain inside me. A wave of exhaustion came over me and the room went dark.

  Miss Penrose said I slept for ten minutes. It felt like ten hours. When I opened my eyes, Iris and Gerald were there. Iris was biting her nails and Gerald was looking frantically through Ibn’s book.

  “There’s nothing in there for this,” I said, pushing myself up on my elbows. Fidelé was on my chest and made it clear he wasn’t leaving by coiling his tail around my waist.

  “You’re okay.” Iris hurled herself at me and latched onto my neck.

  “I’m fine. Just extremely tired and my chest hurts.” I looked at Bentha, who looked exactly the same. “How many beats did you say?”

  “Twenty beats per minute,” said Miss Penrose. “I’m so sorry.”

  Iris clapped her hands. “That’s excellent. That’s a…”

  “A thousand percent improvement,” said Gerald. “An excellent first step.”

  “Twenty beats isn’t good, is it?” asked Miss Penrose.

  “It was two per minute before.”

  “That is better. What’s next?”

  I got up and thought it over. “We need to do Lrag’s rejuvenation spell in twenty-four hours. In the meantime, I think we’ll soak him.”

  “In what?” asked Gerald.

  “Water, stupid,” said Iris with a rare look of superiority on her face.

  Gerald glared at her. “That’s so obvious, even you could see it. I meant what else?”

  I got up and went through my new bag. “Agrimony, camu camu, white willow, and some kind of oil.”

  “Have you got all that?” asked Iris.

  “Except for the oil.” I turned to Miss Penrose. “I’m thinking walnut oil. You’ll have to go out and get it.”

  She straightened her shoulders and attempted a fearless look. It didn’t work so much. “I can do that.”

  “You’ll have to go to the butcher shop tomorrow and get pig blood and three knobs of raw pork.”

  She gasped. “Whatever for?”

  “The rejuvenation spell,” said Gerald. “That was rather explosive the last time, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, but it’s my best guess. What were the other ingredients?”

  “Corn starch and vanilla,” said Iris and then she stuck out her tongue at Gerald.

  “I knew it, too,” he said.

  “No, you didn’t. You weren’t even there.”

  “I still knew.”

  They began bickering. Rufus climbed out of Iris’s pocket, yawning and stretching. Behind him, a tiny black hand grabbed the edge of the fabric.

  “Iris!”

  “What?”

  “Did you take Victory out of this room?” I would’ve been enraged, if I hadn’t been so tired.

  Horc edged away from the emerging Victory. “You are just now noticing that?”

  “I have a few things on my mind.”

  Victory climbed onto Iris’s shoulder and announced,” I needed to survey my domain.”

  Gerald stepped back and mouthed, “He was sleeping.”

  “Still,” I said. “He could’ve, you know.”

  “I could’ve what? Taken control of the military, seized control of the government, declared martial law?” asked Victory with a fist in the air.

  “I was going to say woke up.”

  “The great never sleep. We rule.” With that he took a flying leap at Horc’s head and landed on one of his lumps. Horc waved his arms and stumbled around yelling about his dignity. I had no sympathy for him. I had absolutely no dignity left myself.

  Victory walked to the crown of Horc’s head. “I will now speak to the cardinal. He should be aware of my eminence.”

  I plucked him off Horc’s head. “Maybe later.”

  “Now. I will it.”

  “I will you to be quiet and I’m bigger.”

  “This is marginally true. I will consider your request.” The phalanx thought for a moment. “Request considered and denied.”

  I rubbed my forehead. “Victory, calm down. You just hatched and I’ve got wounded to care for.”

  He squeezed out of my fist. “Wounded. One of my troops.”

  “You do not have any troops,” said Horc.

  “Quiet, minion,” said Victory. “Show me this warrior.”

  I held out my hand and he walked to the tip of my finger, peering down at Bentha’s body.

  “You will heal him, and then I will lead him.”

  “Whatever,” I said. “Just stay quiet and learn.”

  Victory pointed at Horc. “Come, minion.”

  Horc crossed his arms.

  “Please,” I said. “I can’t deal with whatever he is.”

  “He is clearly insane. I recommend an asylum, preferably dirty with chains and frequent beatings.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Horc waddled over and Victory leapt onto his head. He stalked to the tallest lump and stood on it like a conquering hero.

  “Are all phalanx like this?” asked Miss Penrose. She’d never met Victory’s father, the commander.

  “No,” I said. “This one’s special.”


  “I’ll say,” said Gerald.

  “He’s perfect,” said Iris.

  “That’s not the word I’d use,” I said. “Now let’s figure out what to do.”

  Victory hopped up and down on Horc’s head, making the spriggan bare his teeth. “I will formulate a plan. I excel at planning.” He pointed at Miss Penrose. “Our excellent teacher will go buy the oil and His Grace’s evening papers, so Matilda can rest. Gerald and Iris will acquire a tub for soaking my wounded warrior. They will find Delphine the crier and get her to help fill the tub with water. Horc will prepare the herbs required under my direction. Then he will make dinner. I must have a fly, lightly roasted with a touch of salt. There. Plan done. Now execute.”

  We all stared at the tiny phalanx with open mouths.

  “Why aren’t you moving?” he asked. “You have your assignments.”

  “How’d you know about the evening papers?” I asked.

  “And Delphine crying all the time,” said Miss Penrose.

  “I listen. I learn,” he declared.

  Everyone looked at me, except for Victory who was pacing on Horc’s head, muttering something about leading the incompetent.

  “Okay. Let’s do that, but quickly. The sooner we get Bentha up and running, the sooner we find out exactly what’s been going on with Mom and Dad.”

  “Execute!” yelled Victory.

  And we did.

  Chapter Fifteen

  AN HOUR LATER, Miss Penrose and Delphine lowered Bentha into the tub. The lukewarm water covered him up to his chin and he made no sign that he knew what was happening. I dropped the handfuls of herbs into the tub and dipped my hand in, swirling the water. I closed my eyes and let the flames spark from my fingers. It felt so good and soon the water was steaming.

  “Isn’t that too hot?” asked Delphine.

  “Jacqueline is the great healer of the galen and she put my foot in water so hot, I could hardly stand it,” I said. “I think it helps.”

  Delphine nodded. She wasn’t crying, but she had been when she’d come in. Victory ordered her to stop and, to our amazement, she did. Delphine did whatever Victory said without question. It was really weird, not as weird as a newborn phalanx riding around on Horc’s head giving the orders, but still pretty weird.

  “When will it work?” asked Iris. “When will he wake up?”

  “Yes, when can he talk?” asked Miss Penrose.

  I could tell she was thinking about Lrag and hungry for news. But she’d just have to wait. Healing wasn’t exact and I told her so.

  “I’d like to use the oldest spell,” I said, then sipping the tea Iris had made me. White willow coursed through my veins and relieved the constant pain in my chest.

  “Use it,” ordered Victory.

  “I need the right poem, but nothing’s coming to mind.”

  “I know poetry.” He began to recite.

  “A Bear, however hard he tries,

  Grows tubby without exercise.

  Our Teddy Bear is short and fat,

  Which is not to be wondered at:

  By falling off the—”

  Gerald started laughing and Iris clasped her hands over her chest.

  “Why do you laugh?” asked Victory. “My recitation is perfect.”

  “It is,” said Iris. “You’re the best phalanx that ever lived.”

  “Stop saying that. He’s getting a huge head,” I said.

  Victory felt his round noggin. “My head is perfectly sized.”

  “Yes, it is,” said Iris.

  I turned around and thought hard. A poem for Bentha. It would have to be joyful and triumphant. No teddies.

  Someone tapped me and I found Delphine looking at me with clear eyes and a focus rarely seen since we’d escaped Paris. “I know a poem.”

  “Not those poems,” said Miss Penrose.

  “Those poems?” I asked.

  “She borrowed poetry books from the cardinal’s library.” Miss Penrose wrinkled her nose. “They aren’t right.”

  “Why not?”

  “They were all about death and misery. I made her stop reading them.”

  Delphine glared at Miss Penrose. “Those poems were very good, but they aren’t what I’m talking about.”

  “Alright,” I said. “Let’s have it.”

  “From this day to the ending of the world

  But we in it shall be remembered-

  We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;

  For he to-day that sheds his blood with me

  Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,

  This day shall gentle his condition;

  And gentlemen in England now-a-bed

  Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,

  And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks

  That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day”

  “That’s not a poem. It’s Shakespeare from a play,” said Miss Penrose.

  “It’s kind of like a poem and I like it.” I swirled my hand in the water, closed my eyes, and recited Shakespeare’s words. When I opened them again, steam was billowing out of the tub. Bentha formed in the mist. He was whole and smiling, sword at the ready. Phalanx, brown-speckled trolls, and a horen charged at him out of the swirling steam. Then behind Bentha, Lrag formed, huge and swinging a club. Then the royal guard emerged with their white uniforms and blue shields. Soon Bentha was fighting alone while standing on the bodies of fallen guards. The phalanx swarmed, stabbing him repeatedly. The horen swiped at his neck, but missed, a spray of venom arced through the air. Bentha’s neck was sliced and blood sprayed his attackers. The horen smiled and glanced at something beyond the mist. It was the horen from the battle in the Paris apartment. It was weird seeing him as a shadow of a memory. He was just as horrid in grey as he was in full color.

  The horen turned back yelling, “Take them alive!”

  Miss Penrose clutched my arm. “What did he say?”

  I guess there wasn’t any sound. “Take them alive.”

  “Why?” asked Iris. “What will he do to them.”

  Gerald put his thin, shaking arm around her. “Find out our location. That’s what he wants. Us.”

  Miss Penrose gasped and pressed her fists against her bared teeth. The battle raged on. Bentha took so many strikes, I didn’t know how he was standing. Lrag engaged the horen with his club, driving the creature back. A wzlot ran out of nowhere, leapt over the phalanx and struck Bentha’s arm with an over-sized sword. Bentha wasn’t fast enough to defend and his arm hung limp. He staggered back from the blow and the phalanx saw their opportunity. Their small swords pierced his hearts. Bentha fell and Lrag took a powerful swing at the horen, knocking him upside the head. He fell backwards out of the mist and into nothing.

  Lrag dashed the phalanx away from Bentha, picked him up, and his sides belled out in ripples. His mouth opened and he let loose. The phalanx screamed, dropping swords and clutching their ears. Lrag backed away, carrying Bentha, and they both disappeared. The mist hung empty for a moment and then it too, was gone.

  “No!” yelled Miss Penrose. “Where did he go? Lrag!”

  “Bring them back!” yelled Delphine.

  “Quiet,” I said. “Someone will hear.”

  They buttoned up their lips pretty fast and I tried again. I recited Shakespeare’s words with everything I had, but nothing happened. I tried several other poems. Nothing. Whatever had happened that allowed us to see Bentha’s last battle was gone and I couldn’t get it back.

  I poured the still steaming water over Bentha’s inert face, trying to distract myself from the sorrow surrounding me. Delphine was crushed that she hadn’t seen Roberto, even though I told her that was a good thing. He was a royal shoemaker with no business being in a battle. Miss Penrose wept over Lrag. Iris, Gerald, and Horc were all three tearful over not seeing Mom and Dad. Victory was uncharacteristically quiet as he sat on Horc’s head as the spriggan wiped away tears. I wasn’t surprised at Gerald’s reaction after what he�
��d been through. The scene affected him most of all. He shook and Miss Penrose had to wrap him in multiple blankets to keep him from going into shock. His face became as pinched and drawn as it had been when he first arrived in Paris with Daiki after the death of his parents.

  I fixed him some peppermint and catnip tea to soothe his nerves and settle his stomach. “Drink this. It’ll help.”

  He gave me the slightest of nods and took a tiny sip. “I wish we’d seen her.”

  “My mom?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why her particularly?” I, myself, was relieved not to see my gardener mother in a battle that was in the past and that I couldn’t affect.

  “Because…because she’s the only mother I could ever have again.” He looked at me, small and somewhat frail, and I remembered something I often forgot. Gerald was ten, only ten. We were the only family he had left and we were quite a hodgepodge group. I wasn’t sure we were the right kind of family to cling to, not that there were any other options for any of us. I would’ve like to have had the kind of family that existed before the humans came, but in my heart I knew that would never exist for us again. When we escaped Paris, leaving Mom and Dad behind, the last tie that bound me to them as their child was severed. Even if they were okay and we got them back, they would be Iris’s parents and Gerald’s and Horc’s. They wouldn’t be mine. I’d become the parent. Childhood was over.

  I brushed a damp curl off Gerald’s forehead. All the tea in the world wouldn’t lift his spirits or mine. It was so hard not knowing what was happening in France at that very moment. Bentha was bobbing around in his bath still mostly dead. I couldn’t tell if the bath had done him any good at all. There was no change in his condition that I could see and his heart stayed at a steady twenty beats per minute. Tomorrow I would try the rejuvenation spell, not because it was right, but that’s all I had for him. I was so tired of making do and scraping by that I wanted to scream and set the curtains on fire. But we didn’t have curtains. They’d been sucked out the window by a dragon. Because that’s the way things worked for us.