After a moment, he continued the lesson, but his demeanor was different. He watched the book and, occasionally, when his eyes were on my face, they flitted back up and out of focus, just above me. But he did not look directly into my eyes as before.
When he reached the end of the book, it returned to its home on the shelf and he stood, placing his hand on the top of my head. It was only a brief touch, but electricity surged though me. A flash of confused frustration passed over his face before being quickly replaced by a serene, unreadable expression. He looked into my eyes one last time. The top of my head still tingled from the contact. “Enough for today.” He nodded and turned, almost gliding away.
I sat motionless as I watched him go, and remained so for some time after.
When I finally rose to leave, I stashed a few more of the northern clan documents under my shirt. My head was swirling with all that had happened, not simply my new tutor but the magic. On my way out I walked past the shelf that hid the body of the now dead bird. I’d never been able to move objects but it seemed I had done it without thinking. It reminded me of the thistle at Junnie’s, and I felt a sudden urgency to see her.
Junnie’s door was partially open when I reached her house, so I peeked my head in and called for her. No answer. I decided to try the back room.
As I walked through, I passed an ornate mirror on the wall and noticed something odd about my reflection. I guessed I was probably simply flushed but I stopped to get a closer look. There was something about my complexion; must have been the combination of worry and excitement. But what was really off was just above my face. I leaned toward the mirror and reached my hands up as if to check.
The first quarter inch of my hair was dark, almost black. I pulled the part in a different area and then again; the base of my hair was dark over my entire scalp. My hands began to tremble when I could come up with no explanation for the change. Abruptly, the rush to find Junnie was paramount.
I went to the study but it was empty. I let out a shaky, exasperated breath and glanced around, noticing an unusual thistle on the table. It was thriving, but unplanted. I examined it closer. It was rather large, and though the blooms looked healthy, the exposed roots were black, seemingly rotted. How could the plant survive without soil or with decayed roots? I scanned the table. It was the only plant aside from Junnie’s potted ivies and flowers hanging as they always had.
I reached out to touch a leaf and it crumbled. There were some seeds and bulbs lying where the ashes fell, and I recognized the scene. It was the thistle I had grown. The garden.
I rushed out, leaving the door open as I had found it. I hurried from the village, trying to remember where the abandoned garden was located. I was almost running now, under the gray skies. It wasn’t hard to find because of its new size but if I hadn’t been half expecting, half fearing the excessive growth, I might not have recognized it. Each of the strains I had grown the day Evie choked was flourishing. Noxious weeds were taking over the meadow.
As I stood there, frozen before the garden, I was overwhelmed by the scene, overtaken by emotion, and had to close my eyes. I raised my head to the sky and drew in a deep breath when the light rain began to fall. Cool water trickled down my face, calming me. But it didn’t clear my head, I still couldn't understand.
A painful fear shot through me, and I tilted my head forward to run through the growth. Vines, thorns and leaves turned to muddy ash as they touched my outstretched arms and mixed with the rain. When I reached the edge of the onetime garden, I stopped and knelt, digging my fingers deep into the soil to form a trench. When I saw the bared roots, black, dark and rotted, I was suddenly exhausted. I mindlessly turned and walked toward home, void of any sensation save the slow rain on my skin.
When I entered the house, Fannie was there. I ignored her as I trudged past on the way to my room. However, I did notice her face. I couldn’t place the expression she wore, a mix of tight, wicked grin and surprised, suspicious eyes while she scrutinized my face and wet hair. I didn’t care to stop and ask; I was spent. I made my way to the dark room and collapsed onto the bed, dropping swiftly asleep to the comforting thrum of falling rain.