“Well, as far as prophecies go, that one is typically cryptic.” Chanda chuckled. “I mean, I guess, in combination with the prediction, it is somewhat clear—”
“Clear? Oh come on!” Duke said. “That’s about as clear as muddy water.”
“What about it isn’t clear, Healer Hart?” Hazel snapped. “I am a child born to the Great Mother, I will commit myself to witch-kind and unite the Circle. It’s as clear as day to me and to everyone else in my life. Everyone with a vested interest in our future, anyway. I plan to sacrifice my life so that all Healers can benefit from my power. I will do that willingly, selflessly. It’s my destiny.”
Everyone got quiet again, the tense kind of quiet. Hazel felt her cheeks warm. She looked at the back of Duke’s head, wishing he’d give some kind of retort, to snap back. Instead he made a comment to Chanda that Hazel couldn’t hear. And Chanda had the nerve to giggle. Giggle!
Hazel growled.
“Well I appreciate your sacrifice,” Tate said weakly. He touched her hand, squeezing quickly in a show of solidarity. “It is selfless.”
Chanda gave a sympathetic nod toward Hazel but her eyes didn’t convey the same emotion. Her eyes were laughing.
Hazel suddenly felt like she was an inch tall.
Mahdyia was silent.
Way to go, Hazel. That’s the way to win friends.
She’d overstepped. She’d forgotten her place. Duke was supposed to be her mentor and there she was talking to him like they were friends, which they were not. Not any more anyway. And bragging to the rest of them, as if they owed her something… Ugh, such a dolt.
Hazel curled in on herself emotionally. She’d always been introspective, spending a lot of time alone in her room, studying, practicing, researching. Being in her brain was comfortable. Safe. For the first time in her life, she wondered just what she’d missed out on by being so isolated. She’d had Mahdyia growing up, when she was given free time, that was.
Mads and her family lived on the same property, the family estate with sprawling lawns and an equally sprawling mansion. Mahdyia’s mother was Hazel’s mother’s sister. Younger, not as accomplished, more like a wild child who had gotten herself pregnant at the same time as Hazel’s mother. Mahdyia’s father had died in some kind of magic skirmish and her mother had come home to live with them in the guest house while she awaited the birth of her daughter… then, as Hazel’s mother put it, had never left.
Hazel had never seen them as anything but immediate family but sometimes her mother acted like they were there to serve her. Like they owed her something. She reminded Mahdyia often that it was only because of her generosity that Mahdyia had her very expensive private witch training, rivalling what Hazel had received to some degree. Same instructors, not the same number of hours. Hazel was definitely favored in that department. Mads had gotten a lot of days off that Hazel hadn’t.
For her whole life, Hazel had felt sorry for Mahdyia, thinking she was being spoiled and her cousin was getting the scraps. But Mahdyia had had a life, with friends, and parties, and other normal things while Hazel had been honing her skill in preparation for her sacrifice.
Despite the difference, they were close. Like sisters. Which meant the hits dug deeper, were harder and lasted longer.
Hazel suddenly felt very alone.
Thankfully, no one else spoke to her because she was pretty certain if she got any more prodding, she’d probably burst into tears. Self-pity was a vortex of darkness and she was quietly spinning in the middle of it.
Poor little Hazel. A Promised One with no friends. All alone and suffering while her lover flirted with another woman right in front of her.
Snap out of it. Alone is better. It’s safer. Alone means your heart doesn’t explode with lust or jealousy or love.
They kept walking. The forest was alive with noise. Strange noises that seemed unnatural. As Bridget had pointed out earlier, the forest leading to the Storm Hag village had been imbued with magic purely because of proximity to such powerful human witches. The bird sounds were deeper, sometimes mimicking human voices like a parrot would. The buzzing bug noise sounded slightly more sinister, and the bites she was getting were definitely itchier.
“We’re going to detour for lunch.” Duke broke from his conversation with Chanda with a beaming smile. “There’s a small tribe of witches who live nearby. They’re known for their hospitality and I’ve been meaning to check in on them for the past few months.”
“Where are they? How far off course?” Mahdyia asked.
“See that hill there?” Duke pointed just ahead. “They’re up there.”
“I don’t see anything.” Tate was squinting at the hill, just like the rest of them.
“It’s hidden,” Hazel said. “There’s magic surrounding it.”
“Hazel’s right,” Duke said with a nod in her direction. “They’re very wary of strangers.”
“Won’t they be upset at the intrusion?” Chanda asked.
“No, I’ve spent years building a relationship with them. They want to meet interns. Young witches with promise excite them.” He was smiling and Hazel knew there was more to it than he was saying. “They’re amazing cooks as well.”
That got everyone moving. Stomachs had been rumbling for a while. Hazel had been daydreaming about a hearty breakfast, something she’d gotten used to back at home. Their chef always made sure she had a balanced—and big—breakfast to start each day. With the late night out at the village, she’d overslept a bit for her early morning start to her internship. Hazel had only managed to scarf down a few bites before she’d gone to White Willow; her mother had already left and Hazel was worried she’d miss the opening ceremony. So that, and a measly granola bar, had her stomach yowling like she hadn’t eaten for days.
The hillside witches were a group of five or so families who’d decided to live off the grid. They’d pooled resources decades back and bought property that extended into a small valley that was impossible to see from the rough path the interns had been on. If it wasn’t for Duke pointing it out, Hazel wouldn’t have seen it either. The magic they used to cloak themselves was sophisticated and impressive. Hazel wished that Bas had been with them to see for himself what kind of power the humans could wield. She felt it caress her flesh and took in the essence of it to bolster her own magic, giving back as she did, offering her unique signature to bolster them.
“Healer Hart!” An older woman approached, a crooked smile showing missing teeth. Her skin was tanned to a ruddy reddish color, her graying hair looking coarse. She had a limp and was walking with a cane. “Sae guid tae see ye 'ere! We wur praying fur a visit.”
“Anne, it’s good to see you too.” Duke leaned in and gave the woman a hug. “How are the grandkids doing?”
“Ah, weel, intae trauchle as usual.” She patted his back as she pulled away. “Ur thae yer students?”
“They are, yes. I thought you folks could use a check-up and these interns need the bedside hours.”
“I can’t understand a word she’s saying,” Chanda whispered as she leaned into Hazel.
“Oh, I can fix that.” Hazel flicked her finger and muttered a few words.
“I’ll let the others know and gather a group for ya. Have you all eaten? First there should be a meal, wouldn’t you say?” Anne hurried off before they could respond. Her accent gone.
“What did you do?” Chanda snapped.
“Just a translator spell.” Hazel looked at her with surprise. “You said you couldn’t understand what she was saying. I figured if we were going to be working, it would make sense to ease the language barrier.”
“I liked her accent!” Chanda huffed. “I would have gotten an ear for it. So what? I don’t get to hear any accents while we’re here now?”
“Sorry, I…” Hazel winced. The spell would last for at least a few hours, but yeah, she’d cast on the whole area. “I can reverse it.”
“No,” Duke said. “Leave it. It’s better for you to preserve
your magic for triage.”
“Triage?” Mahdyia’s eyes grew wide when she looked over Hazel’s shoulder. “Oh man!”
Sure enough, a horde of people were making their way to the interns. Some moving slow, some fast. Some carrying cots, and tables as well as stools. Within minutes, they had set up a clinic complete with a small fire and with a cauldron hanging above.
“In case you need to brew poultice or something,” an older man said.
“Let’s get started,” Duke said. “Anne will take care of the food. Eat when you get a chance. We’ve got two hours to spare here before we’ve got to get moving. Use your time wisely but make sure you see to everyone.”
Orderly lines formed. There was an area set up with a curtain for more private matters. Hazel got herself into a routine. Listen, assess, diagnose, treat. Many of the ailments were purely human in nature. Abscessed teeth, infected cuts, fevers. Other times the illness was a result of magic.
One fellow had been inflicted by a lust spell that had him yearning for a girl who had been exiled from the tribe a few months before. He agreed she was bad news for him but had to be shackled in chains by his parents at night so he wouldn’t wander off in search of her. It was a tricky bit of magic that had really dug in deep on him. He’d confessed that some days he didn’t eat at all because he was so consumed with thoughts of her. It was a horrible thing to do to someone. Luckily, Hazel knew how to unravel those kinds of spells. She’d done it a few times in the field with her mother, and although it took a bit of time and a great deal of energy, she had him cleared and free of it before long.
They were fed. Eating bites of delicious bread, cheese, and cured meats. So fresh and delicious that it had obviously been made on site. There was a lot of laughing and talking going on between the other interns and the locals. Hazel didn’t really have time for it though. She ate when she could, shoving bits into her mouth between patients. She was determined to get through the majority of people as quickly as possible. Duke had put them on a timeline and she was nothing if not efficient, so there was no time for chitchat. She didn’t mind carrying the weight of the work. When it came down to it, she wasn’t there to make friends.
Hazel had cleared her last patient and moved on to Chanda’s line. “What’s going on here?”
“He’s got an old fracture that hasn’t healed properly.” Chanda ran her fingers up and down her patient’s leg. “Right here is the problem. A bone chip.”
“Ah, well.” Hazel leaned in and dug her fingers close to where Chanda’s were. With a concentrated blast of her magic, she had the bone fixed up. Sure, it caused the patient to squeal a bit. Hazel’s methods were fast, not necessarily tender, but now the problem was gone and they could move on to the next patient.
“What the hell did you do that for?” Chanda glared at her as she moved to the man’s head, soothing him as he moaned away the pain Hazel had caused.
“What? I was helping. Speeding things along. You’ve got a line up there, I thought I could help you clear it.”
“I have a line up because I’m taking my time, getting to know these people. Mr. Burns here has been suffering with chronic pain for years. I promised him that I wouldn’t do anything to add to it.”
“Oh…I’m well…” Hazel winced. “Sorry, I just thought…”
“You thought you’d swoop in and save the day right? Because that’s what you do. Well let me tell you, you’re not the only one here with proficiency in spell casting and healing. I happen to be very good at pain management and now you’ve made me a liar to this man.”
“I’m very sorry.” Hazel raised her hands and took a step back. The old man wouldn’t look at her. “I didn’t mean—”
Chanda was fuming, her face blasting rage before she turned her back on Hazel completely.
“Hazel, come over here, I could use your help on this case.” Duke’s voice was like a lifeline.
She winced, then looked over her shoulder. “Be right there.”
Chanda and the old man didn’t acknowledge her leaving. Her mind was already shifting to the next patient though so she brushed it off as a lesson learned. She wasn’t good at tenderness—she was good at solving problems and healing with urgency. She was definitely a rip the Band-Aid off kind of girl, which, until this Mr. Burns, had worked quite well for her. Perhaps he just had a very low threshold for pain. She’d do better with the next one.
And then she saw who her patient was and knew she was in trouble.
10
Duke had been watching Hazel while she’d been working through the patients. Her bedside manner sucked. Big time. It was what he’d expect from someone who was book smart, spell smart, but otherwise hadn’t had a lot of experience working with patients. It was also what he’d expect from the daughter of Mother Knight. The woman had a way about her that was perpetually cold. She was a skilled Healer of course, but she wasn’t about the warm and fuzzies. Hazel, it seemed, had adopted that trait.
He knew a different side to her, of course. When her guard was down and she wasn’t trying to impress anyone. Ego, it was the biggest battle when it came to new interns. He should know; it was his tragic flaw as well.
“Hazel, this is Lily.” Duke motioned to the little girl who sat on the cot, her lips quivering as she looked up at them.
“She was playing with a fire spell about six months ago and as you can see, it went a little haywire.”
“I’d rather stick to the adults, if it’s all the same to you.” Hazel started to turn away.
Lily’s body shook, tears welled.
“Hazel, this is your patient now. I’d like you to assess her.” Duke motioned for her to move closer.
Hazel sighed, set her jaw. “Fine.” She moved closer. “It hurts, right? That’s some nasty magic you were playing with.”
The scars ran along one side of her face, from forehead to neck and down to her shoulder. They were deep, marring her face in a horrific way. He’d been there the day after she’d done it. The poor girl had been screaming in agony when he arrived and the villagers were at a loss as to what to do for her. Painkillers didn’t work; folk magic was useless.
The little girl nodded.
“I can feel the magic burning still.”
Hazel leaned closer. Lily flinched.
“I won’t touch it, okay?” Her tone was sharp, like her patience was running low already.
“The spell was potent when it first happened. I removed the worst of it when I treated her six months ago. Restored eyesight, closed the wounds but there are areas that are sticky. Threading along her scars that still carry part of the magic.”
“Who taught you this spell?” Hazel ran her fingers just over top, not touching, still assessing. Delicate, just as he knew she could be. Those fingers had touched him the same way—or rather, caressed him with tenderness.
Duke tucked back those thoughts and refocused on the little girl.
Lily wouldn’t answer.
Hazel cocked an eyebrow, opened her mouth to undoubtedly push when Duke cut her off.
“What can you do for her, Hazel?” Duke looked at her expectantly. What the poor thing felt on a daily basis was something like an elastic snapping repeatedly along her bubbled scars. No relief. He’d done what he could but it would take time. A slow process of undoing what Lily had done. She would never tell him who’d given her the spell but if he had to guess, she probably bartered for it from a Rogue. He hated to think what she’d traded for it though.
“I can leach the magic. It would stop it from spreading and reduce the pain overall.” Hazel stepped back from the child.
“Yes, but that treatment would be painful on such a sensitive area.”
“It’s the quickest method. It would take me five minutes, tops. Like ripping off a Band-Aid.”
“No!” Lily screeched. “I don’t want it to hurt! It always hurts. Every day. Please, no more!”
Duke gave Hazel a hard look then motioned for her to step away.
Sh
e obliged, looking exasperated by the delay. “What’s the problem?”
“I’ve been watching you work your patients. You’re fast. You’re systematic, but your bedside manner is less than desirable.”
She flinched—it was subtle but it was there. Not used to criticism? Probably not.
“You said we were on a timeline. I’m working quickly so we can leave and keep to our schedule. Just following orders.”
“Very efficient. Got it. But if you want to keep the trust of these people, and you do or they’ll never let you back here again, you have to find a way to treat this little girl without making her cry.”
Hazel looked over his shoulder at the girl. Then around at the collection of villagers there. They were watching her. Assessing her. They’d done the same to him when he’d first come years ago. It had taken days to even get them comfortable enough to let him do check-ups. Weeks before they’d let him actually heal them. They were good judges of character though. When he could, he brought new Medics here to break them in. Whenever he found out his team was headed in the general area, he knew there’d be a pit stop at some point. The tribe was the best pass/fail he’d ever encountered.
“Impossible. Her scars are too deep. The magic is rooted there. Any attempt I make to remove it will cause her some pain.”
“Not if you work slowly,” Duke said. “No one would argue with your skill, Hazel, but a big part of treating patients is in how you interact with them. They are not an assembly line for you to get through. They’re humans who need compassion, time, sensitivity.”
Hazel glanced back at Chanda, who was still soothing the old man she had fixed. Old Jess. Duke had treated him for headaches in the past. He was a tough guy when it came to everything but illness or injury. He needed a soft touch. Chanda had that compassion. The innate ability to sooth people. She wasn’t lacking in bedside manner. She was helping him drink something from a steaming cup, smiling and chatting with him. Duke looked expectedly at Hazel.
The Witches of White Willow Page 8