Flames left behind

21{Vikhenide}

      My heart was racing as I took in a gasp for air. I stumbled out of the tub, the water now ice cold to my bones. Unable to catch my balance, I hit the floor, the most of the impact hitting my splayed out hands. 

   Emrick. Danger. Trust.

    I crawled along the floor, naked, blindly reaching for any sort of clothes I could find in my path. I picked up a strapless, tight-fitting gown and hastily slipped it over my head, and managed to pick myself up. Pulling my hair into a braid and watching it fall over my shoulder, I straightened up and marched out of my room. 

   I slowed my pace as I took in the information that just happened. I can't just confront Emrick. I need to know what he's hiding, and I need proof before I do anything rash. 

 Or.

   Or I could take him out. Murder, and I'm not afraid to admit that. But how? Kill him in the dead of night, burn him alive in his own room, poison... Yes. Poison. 

   I looked around the empty hallway, doubling back to my room and throwing on a deep red cloak, covering my eyes and nose. Enough so I could see out, but not too much so nobody could see in. 

  I marched my way to the broken library, stepping over the dead roots, careful not to disturb anything. Books were still intact, looking exactly as they would any other book if it was left undisturbed for hundreds of years. I need a spell book. 

   I don't know where I was supposed to be looking, so I went to the P's, for poison. Platicide, platitude, plight. Throwing the book down in frustration, I let out a scream, and the walls shuddered. I heard a clunk, not even a few feet away, and walked towards the fallen book. 

 Sinister Spite. Sounds promising, or at the least entertaining. Opening to a random page, I landed on one titled Vikhenide. 

  {A toxin used for assassination. Its effects are extremely painful. Victims who are strong have been able to survive as much as two days of agony before they see death. Commonly used as a dissonant powder distributed in drinks, deadly effects.}

  Triumphant, I slipped back out of the dead library, book in hand, and went to my room to make a list of the ingredients. On my way there, I snatched a wealthy amount of coins from the safe behind the painting of Emrick, pocketing them in the deep folds of my cloak. 

  I sat on the edge of my bed, quill and parchment paper in hand, and wrote down the foreign items. 

~Obsidian Tears

~Sprites Spine

~Nightmare fungus

~Deaths fungus

~Shriveling flower

~Spider growth

~Frost bane

~Ghost leaf

~Burning smoke

  Such unique ingredients, and I can only pray that the local witch shops have them in stock. If witch shops even existed. Sighing, I walked down the hallway again, listening to the voices of arguing males in a meeting. Perfect. 

    Grinning, I waltzed out the front door, and into the blinding light of New York.

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  Not going to lie, I wandered around dumbfounded for about an hour before I came across this little, miniature tent with the words, Sinister Spite. This was the place I was looking for, what a coincidence.