“Is it true?” Lucifer demanded. “Abby hasn’t a soul?”
Baba plopped herself into her chair and sighed heavily. Fatigue weighed down her stooped frame. “She has little bit of soul.”
Kelsie looked from one to the other. She tiptoed around him as if he might snap at her too. She motioned for Abigail to go outside with her.
Lucifer could barely get out the words in his anger. “You led me to believe her condition might improve.”
Baba waved a hand at Abigail. “Abby has improved. She does not need diaper.”
Abigail looked from one to the other as her name was batted back and forth like a leaf in the wind.
“But where is her soul?” he asked. “Is it still in the bottle?”
Kelsie grabbed Abigail’s hand and tugged her out the door. Abigail made a noise of protest.
“Abigail’s soul is in safe place.” Baba no longer wore the bottle around her neck. Perhaps she’d found a better place to keep it safe.
“Where is it?”
“You need not concern yourself with such matters. Focus on learning magic. You have been doing very well in your studies. See to it you continue to do so. If not for yourself, for Abby. You do not know what magic you will need for future.”
He didn’t want her to be right, even if she was. What did one do for a child without a soul? Of course, Abigail’s body wasn’t that of a child, even if her mind and soul were.
Kelsie rushed back in, a grin on her face. “Abby just said her first words!”
“She’s already said her first word,” Lucifer said. She could speak his name. From the moment she’d woken, some part of her knew who he was.
Kelsie coaxed Abigail. “Say it again, Abby. Go on.”
Abby grinned. “Elfing donkule monger.”
Lucifer shook his head in disgust, more at himself than her. “You could say that again.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A Cat Named Pig
Lucifer kneeled in the forest, gathering evening primrose. He kept the sections he gathered separate from lady’s mantle on the far side of his basket. Abigail sat in the dirt, picking plants alongside him. He’d tucked a violet behind her ear, and now she kept collecting more, arranging them in her bouquet, occasionally adding one to his hair. She giggled as she tucked one into his beard.
She indiscriminately plucked up other plants, dropping them beside the medicinal herbs. He removed them when she wasn’t looking. He paused in his herb collection when she placed a pink dog rose in the basket. He hadn’t seen a dog rose since the leshi.
A chill skated down his spine. He scanned the trees for signs of movement or Venus man traps. Birds chirped cheerfully. A squirrel hopped from across the outstretched limb of a tree. A variety of wildlife filled the forest. There was nothing ominous about the environment. This dog rose was pink, not white like the one that had snared him near the leshi’s home. Even so, Lucifer didn’t want to take this rose back to Baba’s.
He removed it from the basket as Abigail collected another violet. Leshi were just one more problem he didn’t know what to do about.
He hadn’t figured out what to do with her lack of soul. Regrowing a soul would take forever. This was torture enough as it was. And if her soul did grow to fill her body, she would never be the same Abigail he had known and loved. What if this new Abigail didn’t love him like the old one had?
“Ow,” she said, pretending to prick her finger on a thorn.
He shook his head at her. “I think you’re fibbing.”
She was adept at avoiding the thorns, and he felt the pain in his own hand when she actually pricked herself. At least, he did if he didn’t guard himself.
“Lucy. Kiss.” She stuck out her lip and held out her hand.
He humored her and kissed her fingers. “There. Your boo-boo is all better.” He patted her hand.
She smiled and resumed picking flowers.
Kelsie thought Abigail was progressing faster than a baby, but he still wasn’t satisfied. There had to be a spell for maturing a mind or granting wisdom. Lucifer had searched Baba’s limited supply of books for cures but found nothing. More than ever, he wished he had the books he’d loaned to Gertrude. It would have taken him time to translate, and he wouldn’t have been able to finish translating them in the time Gertrude could, but it was better than having no books on the Red affinity or soul magic at all.
Lucifer stood and dusted off his trousers. He took Abigail by the hand and led her to a different part of the forest where he had spotted mustard garlic the day before. She pointed to a place off the path that she wanted to go.
“No, we have to gather plants. You get to help me,” he said.
She tugged at his hand.
“We have chores. We can play after,” he said.
She pouted.
“Look at those pretty flowers!” he said with enthusiasm he didn’t feel.
Her eyes widened, and she followed him more energetically now. She brushed her hands over the stalks of flowers, trampling licorice fern he could have picked. Back when they’d been teenagers, she had been so careful with plants. The old Abigail would never have stomped on ferns. She would have wanted to ensure she didn’t hurt them.
He couldn’t understand her. Didn’t she care? She had magic, so surely she felt sympathy for the plants.
The nightshade and foxglove she collected might be useful for one of Baba’s medicinal brews, but he watched Abigail out of the corner of his eye to make sure she didn’t eat any. Just the week before she’d tried to sneakily eat a worm.
“Pig,” she said, pointing at him.
“Are you saying I’m a pig?” He cut at the base of a fern she hadn’t trampled.
“Oink,” she said.
He made a snuffling noise like a pig.
Abigail rolled back onto a patch of mustard garlic, giggling.
His lips twitched into a sardonic smile. “I’m glad someone laughs at my jokes.”
“Meow,” she said and pointed at him.
He tickled her bare feet with a frond of fern. “What animal makes a meow sound?”
She pointed at his chest. “Lucy.”
“What animal says ‘meow?’”
“Cat.” She rolled over and crawled toward him meowing. She patted his head. “Lucy. Meow.”
“Good job!” He pinched her cheek. “What about a cow?” He thought that would stump her.
“Moo. Cow. Moo.”
“That’s right.” A spark of hope inflated his spirits. “Who told you what sound cows make?”
She’d never seen a cow other than in storybooks, and he couldn’t help wondering if she remembered cows. Then again, most children hadn’t seen cows either, and they still knew what sounds animals made because someone told them.
She pointed to the tree. “Butterfly.”
He looked up, searching the air for a butterfly. A monarch with orange wings zigzagged above their heads. “What good eyes you have! That is a butterfly.”
“Butterfly.” She pointed to him.
“I’m not a butterfly.” He resumed picking ferns.
She huffed and pointed again. There was a question in her eyes. He didn’t know what she was asking.
“You want to know what sound they make? I don’t know.” He tapped his tongue to the roof of his mouth and tried to make a fluttering sound.
She shook her head.
“No? You show me what sound they make.”
She closed her eyes and lifted her arms up toward the butterfly. The little creature fluttered closer and perched on her finger. Lucifer watched in fascination as another landed on her other hand. Then came another. Soon an orange cloud descended on them. Lucifer stayed as still as he could, not wanting to accidentally crush them and make her distraught.
When Abigail opened her eyes, her arms were covered. She grinned.
She could barely speak, and she didn’t even have a complete soul. Yet her body still had her affini
ty. She could use magic.
Butterflies might amuse her now, but what would it be next? What did someone without a soul do to amuse themselves? She trampled over plants without a care. She manipulated him into giving her cookies. The old Abigail wouldn’t have done any of that—because she had a soul, and she cared about hurting people, animals, and plants.
He had considered the danger Abigail was in if he left her sleeping. He hadn’t considered the danger he might put others in now that she was awake but incomplete.
* * *
Lucifer made porridge for breakfast, Abigail helping him stir. It was lumpier than when she used to make it, and she didn’t know what spices to add to give it more flavor. He tried to coax her into telling him, to teach her. She dumped in a jar of chili powder, giggling mischievously. At least there was only a little in the jar. He tried to remedy the flavor with extra cinnamon and cloves.
She wasn’t doing this because she lacked a soul, he told himself. Any six-year-old might behave this way.
Kelsie lifted her nose up at the porridge when they served it. “Tomorrow you’d best let me make it. Even I can do better than this.”
“Nyet,” Baba said. “Lucy needs to learn to cook despite distractions. It will help him become better at potions, and Abby might learn something useful as well.”
As the four of them attempted to eat breakfast, Abigail seemed competent enough. He could almost imagine his Abigail was seated beside him instead of this soulless body.
She was as pretty as she had been as a girl. He could have fallen in love with her beauty alone. He smiled, and her lips curled up with the same smile Abigail had once gifted him with. His heart ached for the girl he had once known.
His loins ached period.
Baba’s eyes narrowed. “Today Lucifer will do washing of laundry—and take cold bath at stream as he does so.”
He sat straighter, understanding what she was implying. “I’m not—I wasn’t—”
Kelsie giggled.
Baba arched an eyebrow at him, daring him to defy her. “You need time alone without Abigail.”
He knew she was right. He needed to refuel his affinity, whether he was doing so by himself or with the assistance of wood nymphs or sirens. Lately he’d been remiss in regularly energizing his affinity. It was difficult to fit it in with his constant duties of babysitting. Perhaps he should have used some of that time when he was hunting game for other recreational activities as well.
Baba turned her attention on her other apprentice. “Kelsie will chop wood and then weed garden with Abigail.”
“Why am I being punished?” Kelsie stopped laughing. “I hate weeding.”
“You must master difficult tasks, not just Elementia magic. Learn to grow, and your skills will improve.” Baba raised an eyebrow. “Besides, chopping wood is good practice for chopping apart enemies.”
Kelsie perked up at that. Lucifer hoped Kelsie’s drive for vengeance wasn’t going to end in misery like Abigail’s had.
After breakfast, Lucifer tucked the wicker basket of clothes under his arm. Abigail left the garden and grabbed hold of his beard to get his attention.
“Stay here with Kelsie.” He motioned to the garden.
She nodded. He started down the path. Abigail followed.
“No. You’re to work in the garden today.” He forced a smile and a cheerful tone. “You love the garden, don’t you? Lucky you. You get to stay here and do weeding and planting. Plant magic! Yay!”
“Yay!” she repeated, but she continued after him.
He set the basket down, took her by the shoulders, and turned her around. He walked her to the gate.
“Come on back, Abby,” Kelsie said, waving.
Abigail looked from Lucifer to the other apprentice. Dragging her feet, Abigail returned to Kelsie’s side. He hurried down the path before she realized he wasn’t returning with her. Baba had been right about Abigail being a lot of work.
She distracted him from his duties far more than she had when they’d been teenagers, and he’d wanted to spend every waking moment with her. Now he’d gotten his wish. If only she weren’t so pretty. It hardly seemed fair that this soulless child resembled Abigail, but she wasn’t Abigail.
He’d made it halfway to the stream when he heard a twig snap behind him. He whirled, nearly elbowing Abigail. She walked into him and bounced off the wicker basket he carried. He grabbed hold of her to keep her from falling over, but he dropped the laundry in the process.
He groaned. “You were supposed to stay with Kelsie.”
She pointed to him. “Lucy.” He stooped to pick up the laundry. She crouched beside him and helped him pick up the clothes at least.
He considered walking her back to the cottage and telling Kelsie to do a better job of tending Abigail, but he was already halfway to the stream. He turned toward his destination, Abigail on his heels like a lost puppy. There was no way he was going to sow any wild oats today.
Abigail washed clothes with him at the stream. She was more attentive than the last time she’d helped him wash, and that had only been weeks before, though she was just as noisy. If there were sirens or wood nymphs in the forest that day, her splashing and imitations of animal sounds would drive them away.
It was hotter outside the shade, and he worked up a sweat as he washed. Lucifer removed his clothes and washed them before hanging them on bushes to dry in the sun. Diving into the stream to cool off was just what he needed to feel refreshed. He shook his head, spray flying off his hair like a wet dog. Abigail giggled as he splashed water onto her.
When he’d been younger, he would have been self-conscious being nude in front of her, but that was the old Abigail. She was too much like a baby to care about propriety.
“Do you want to swim, Abby?” he asked.
She nodded. He helped her remove her dress. He thought to preserve her modesty, but she threw off her chemise and pulled off her bloomers, unconcerned. She was perfection to behold, the same slender slip of a girl she had once been. From the curve of her waist to the rosy tips of her breasts, she was a goddess of fertility who called to his primal instincts. Desire stirred within him. His affinity smoldered, craving to touch and be touched.
Baba had been right about him needing to get away from her to fuel his affinity.
He forced himself to turn his gaze away. He would not take advantage of her simplemindedness by ogling. Slipping back into the frigid water, he allowed the chill to seep into him and cool the fire of his passions. When that still proved to be insufficient, he dunked himself all the way in before surfacing.
Abigail waded in, shivering and wrapping her arms around her middle. She only made it up to her knees before she ran out of the water.
He laughed. “It’s best to get it over with all at once. Jump in and submerge yourself.”
She shook her head, inching into the stream, and then backing out.
“You’re just making it worse.” He left the stream to pick her up. He dropped her in the water.
She squealed and then laughed.
“Shall I teach you swimming?” he asked.
She reached up and tugged on his beard, smiling.
“Is that a yes?”
She nodded her head eagerly. Her gaze flickered to his lips. He leaned down, wondering if that was desire he saw in her eyes, and if it was, how much was his affinity’s doing? He had to remind himself she wasn’t an adult. It wasn’t right to stare. She wasn’t old enough to consent.
For the first time since he’d woken her, he wondered whether she would be better off with Clarissa. At least Abigail would be safe from him. He quickly dismissed the thought.
He splashed her in the face so he wouldn’t have to think about kissing her. That had her laughing at least. She spit water at him and splashed him back.
It wasn’t the afternoon of solitude—or recreational activities—he’d been hoping for, but it was a pleasant distraction. Too pleasant, at mom
ents. Now that the thought had bit him, he again thought about taking her to Clarissa to take care of, or Womby’s School for Wayward Witches. Anywhere was safer than being with him when he was tempted to kiss her every moment of every day.
But if he took Abigail elsewhere, he couldn’t try to restore her memories. He might learn the proper magic to help her, but she wouldn’t be there to benefit from such skills.
After they’d swum their fill and finished laundry, he dressed in his trousers. They were damp, and as a result, uncomfortable. He couldn’t blame Abigail for not wanting to wear a wet dress, but he didn’t want her to return to Baba’s without wearing clothes.
He held up her chemise. “Come on, be a good girl for me.”
She shook her head.
Baba would probably glare at him and think he’d done this on purpose so he could admire Abigail naked. Kelsie would berate him. He would never hear the end of it.
“If you aren’t going to wear your clothes, you have to carry them.” He suspected once they were in the shade of the trees, she would become cold carrying damp clothes. That would convince her better than his words.
She scooped up her clothes. Just as he’d suspected, as soon as they started on the path through the forest, she started to shiver.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“You used to call me a muttonhead every time I did something daft. Should I start calling you that?” he teased.
She nodded.
They hadn’t made it very far down the path before Lucifer heard hooves clomping and a horse’s neigh. It probably was unicorns. The idea of Kelsie and Baba scolding him was bad enough, but he didn’t need Clyde or any of the other unicorns accusing him of a being an elfing donkule pervert.
He turned to Abby. “It’s time to put your dress on.”
She shook her head.
“If you don’t mind me, I’m going to take you straight home. You won’t get to pet any unicorns today. You’ll lose that privilege.” He tried to make his voice firm, like he meant business, though he doubted he could keep her from unicorns, or them from her. Not with their pointy horns prodding him out of the way.
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