Riddle Of The Owl - YA Fantasy

Chapter Seventeen

She opened her eyes — She was lying somewhere. The backseat of a car? Driving.

She opened her eyes — Still in the car. No longer driving. One of the car's doors was slammed shut. Someone got out or came in. Men conversed in low rumbling voices.

She opened her eyes — Lights. Strong white lights. Long white corridors. Shoes squeaking on linoleum. People speaking, calmly yet urgently. Clipped, precise sentences. Rushing, rolling, on and on.

She opened her eyes — Mam? Da? Oh, how wonderful it was to see them. Tears spilled out of the corners of her eyes and into her hair. Thank goodness. They were alright. They were well.

For the first time in several feverish and delirious days, Alleria woke up to find herself in a hospital bed.

She had never been a patient in a hospital and had only ever visited one once before when Granny Ellan broke her hip.

It was a calm, quiet and sleepy place. She looked down the long row of empty beds covered in white sheets. Sticky late afternoon sunshine streamed in from a large double window, puddling on the grey linoleum floor. In all this big hall, she was the only patient present.

There was a crinkling of paper on her left, she gingerly turned her head, aware of the unpleasant tightness at her throat and looked at the woman sitting on a chair by her bed. Cropped hair dyed red, a gaunt face and piercing eyes.

Irene.

She was reading a newspaper and paying her no heed. Alleria brought her hand to her throat to discover that it was heavily bandaged. She also observed the thin tube protruding out of the back of her hand and connecting with an IV drip that hung on a bar by the bed.

"Interesting story in the tabloids these days," Irene mused. "It's about a girl, no one really understands how she got her throat slashed and survived." Irene folded the paper and regarded Alleria seriously.

Alleria didn't answer. If Irene had a point, she knew she would get to it.

"When she arrived at the hospital, they write, her body was already in shock, in the later stages of sepsis. While the cut was three inches deep, the doctors were very surprised to discover that the Carotid artery remained whole and no nerves have been cut nor were her vocal cords damaged. Very peculiar story. It took some... persuasion to ensure that the medical staff forget your unusual injury."

Alleria opened her mouth to speak, but Irene lifted her hand to silence her. "Have no fear, our methods aren't what the empire considers ethical, but no harm had been done to anyone. Sadly, the news did get out," she held up the folded newspaper, "but no one believes the tabloids anyway. It's time, however, we discussed matters openly."

She placed her newspaper on the bedside table and leaned in, looking intently at Alleria. "Zalee tells me you've contracted the elusive Ulundine. It could've healed your body but instead left you an inch from death, I've never known an Individual to be so cruel."

Alleria stiffened and fingered the bandage at her throat. "Are you the witch?" she rasped airily.

Irene offered one gruff nod. "I am a witch, Miss Bellencreek. Do you really believe there is only one? Some things in this world cannot be stamped out, no matter what everyone assumes. Witchcraft is as wide-spread yet secret as it has always been. There are still many of us operating in the empire and all across the world."

There were many questions she could've asked, but only one seemed to matter to her. A darkness spread through her heart leaving behind only the shadows of emotions.

"In our flat —" she began.

"The flat was burned," Irene said with a shrug. "I'm unsure as of yet whose work that had been."