Wicked Hunt

Chapter Eleven, Part III

Victoria: Rosemary, Thyme, and Wolfenite 

Finally, the two emerged onto the second floor. Gemma grasped her daughter's fingers and held them to her chest as she carefully placed the walking stick among the stones in the floor to steady herself. Victoria helped her mother down the hall. To an outsider, it looked like the two women were marching into a dead end, dimly lit with cobwebs residing in the corner. It was, however, not the case. As with most things in the ancient castle, not everything was as it seemed. Victoria swatted at a dangling cobweb before squinting into the gloomy corner.

"The left," Gemma said, her milky eyes staring straight ahead.

"Ah." Victoria used her foot to feel around on the floor. She felt two indentations in the stone, spots worn away from use, then she gingerly stepped onto the places, her nose nearly touching the cool stones of the wall. She moved back twice and stepped onto the spots, each time moving with a different foot first. A low rumble resonated from the wall, and a slender crack appeared in the corner, where the two walls met. She poked at it with a finger until the wall moved, revealing more light and frigid air. Victoria grabbed Gemma's arm and shouldered the wall open. They both stepped out onto the terrace.

Although it was cold out, the plants that grew in her mother's garden were unphased. It was warm in the garden. A cloak of magic protected them from the elements. There were two rows of various kinds of herbs, each one integral to potions, rituals, and magical lore.

"The Thyme," Gemma said, reminding Victoria why they were there.

"Yes, yes." She waved her hand around impatiently. No one wanted to gather these herbs as much as her. The malice that had lingered after the Black Stag appeared in her mirror had made her feel so cold inside that Victoria feared she would never be warm again. She crouched amongst the curling leaves and muted flowers, her emerald eyes canning the crowd of swaying flora. Finally, she saw the four petaled floret of the thyme plant. She knelt down and grabbed one of the thin stalks, but her mother's cold hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"Here." Gemma's shaking fingers held a crude knife. Victoria raised her eyebrows but gripped the handle of the blade. Deftly, three stems were, three for each witch in the house. Magic always had to be a balancing act. Victoria shoved her dark, wild hair from her face and stood. Moving past Gemma, she pushed the thyme into her mother's curled hands and spotted the grassy corner dedicated to Rosemary. These stalks would be harder to gather because they were narrower than the Thyme. Victoria made her way to the small patch and bent down. There were a few pale blue flowers decorating the plant, but for the most part the sharp emerald spindles were prominent. Placing the knife about three inches down from the top of one flower, she snipped the piece off and placed it into the lap of her skirt. She inched forward and cut a second and third bloom from the bush. Her fingers closed around the flowers, and she stood up. Gemma lingered just behind her, and as Victoria handed her the plan pieces, she stepped back letting her daughter pass.

Victoria's eyes scanned the rest of the garden. "Where's that damn Wolfenite," she muttered. A long, knobby finger was thrust in front of her nose, and Gemma pointed to her left. Grinding her teeth, Victoria resisted the urge to swat the hand away. Instead, she carefully stepped around her mother and moved deeper among the next row. The Wolfenite was spotted instantly. It was such an odd flower, and the plant was no longer allowed in Verlic anymore due to its name and what it symbolized. It was an ode to the great Wolf that guarded the forest, but that was the old religion. Now, the Wolf was never spoken of, but he was still there. Just because Clive did not believe in the protector of the forest or the Stag's wickedness did not mean that it was not true.

Gingerly, she raised her skirts and stepped over a small section of garlic. The pungent smell wafted up to her nose and made her stomach growl. Lowering her dress, Victoria made her way to the Wolfenite. It sat proudly against the back wall of the garden; the strangest flower Victoria had ever seen. Pale leaves of green in the shape of a clover draped on either side of the deep red blossom. From far back, the flower looked like a muddled mess, but up close, it was in the shape of a wolf's pawprint. The plant was said to enhance the Wolf's power. Victoria, Gemma, and Jillian tried to use it was much as they cold in their rituals, but the small collection they had in Gemma's garden was dwindling.

Carefully, Victoria crouched beside the plants. With shaking fingers, she cut three flowers from the stems and stood up. Cradled in her white hands, the blossoms looked like bloody pawprints in the snow.

"Hand them to me," Gemma urged. Her hands were extended out anxiously. Delicately, Victoria placed them in her mother's palms. Gemma let out a sigh of relief. The plants were precious, and their rarity made them a treasure. Victoria untangled herself from a loping bean plant scurrying up the side wall and came to her mother's side. She kept a firm hold on the knife as they swiftly exited the garden.

Neither woman spoke as they hurriedly made their way back to Victoria's bedroom. The door was slowly opened, the creaking of the wood across the floor stabbing into the quiet. Upon first stepping inside, Victoria got a whiff of Lorik's scent, all honey wine and salt. Instinctively, she waved her hand around to dissipate the smell. Gemmal followed closely behind as her daughter placed the knife on the table.