Page 91 of A Resistance of Witches
Visitors came and were dismissed without Lydia ever seeing them. Helena came to the flat, her arms stuffed with potions from the infirmary. Evelyn thanked her for coming, then poured every drop down the sink. Vivian appeared later that same day, with some paper-thinwell-wishes and a dusty old copy ofThe True Sight: Accessing Wisdom through Dreams and Visions.
“To keep the mind busy during her convalescence.”
Lydia listened as Evelyn greeted her and thanked her for the gift. Evelyn waited until Vivian was gone, then carried the book down three flights of stairs to the street, where she deposited it in the bin.
“Never too safe,” she said.
By the third day, Lydia couldn’t spend another second in bed, and so she asked Evelyn to set her up by the kitchen window, where she could breathe the fresh air. It was an unseasonably mild day. On the street, people walked briskly, occasionally greeting one another as they went about their business, but otherwise keeping to themselves. Lydia found herself observing them from the window as they passed. There was an old man in a flat cap, his nose and cheeks a deep, ruddy pink. He tipped his hat to an auburn-haired woman on the corner, waiting for the bus in her sky-blue coat and matching hat, and she nodded back. A young mother and a little boy emerged from the building across the street. The woman looked frazzled. Lydia imagined that the boy must have been a handful, and even as she thought it, he took off running and tripped and fell on the pavement. Just at that moment the bus came, blocking her view, and then left again, to reveal the boy back on his feet, sprinting down the street as if nothing had happened. His mother said something as she passed the woman in blue, and the woman laughed.
Lydia leaned forward, watching the woman at the bus stop more closely. The bus had come and gone, and still she waited. There was something about her appearance, as well; her clothing was too fine for the neighborhood, gold buttons flashing, the bright blue of her coat an anomaly among the sea of gray and brown.
“Mother…”
“I saw her.” Evelyn placed a warm cup of tea into Lydia’s hands. The steam smelled of baking spices. “Academy girl?”
“No. I’ve never seen her before.”
“Do you think she’s a Nazi?”
“That was my first thought, yes.” She looked for a knife on the girl’s hip, but if it was there, it was well hidden under her coat.
“It makes sense. I’m sure they’ve realized by now that they can’t use magic to spy on you anymore, so they’ve resorted to doing things the old-fashioned way.”
“Or else she’s the one who was sent to bind me,” Lydia said.
As they spoke, the young woman glanced up at the window, then away again, peering up the street as if looking for the next bus.
Evelyn sniffed. “Not very subtle, if you ask me.”
“What do you think she’s waiting for?” Lydia asked.
Evelyn set about making toast. “Maybe they think you’re going to go after the book again, and they’re hoping you’ll lead them to it. Or they might be wondering if you’re dead, since you’ve become untraceable.”
Lydia was about to say something funny, something about being only half-dead, but even as she thought the words, a wave of dizziness washed over her.
Evelyn looked at her knowingly. “Rest, love. Nothing to be done about it before breakfast.”
•••
Lydia stayed by the windowfor hours, watching the woman in the blue coat as a dozen bright red buses came and went. She didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep until she woke much later, bleary and confused, to find Evelyn busily working in her kitchen. Jars of various shapes and sizes sat open on the table, filled with all manner of herbs and powders. Evelyn stood over a massive stone mortar, grinding away at some new concoction with a pestle the size of a club.
“What are you making?” Lydia’s tongue was thick from sleep.
“A surprise.” Evelyn ground away with the pestle without pausing. “How are you feeling?”
“Dreadful.”
Evelyn went to Lydia’s side and smoothed her hair, clucking over her as she peered out through the lace curtains. The young woman was still there, conspicuous as a peacock in her bright blue coat.
“She’s barely trying anymore,” Lydia remarked.
She turned to find Evelyn scooping the powder from the mortar into a leather pouch. The powder was a light pink color and gave off a smell that prickled Lydia’s nose and made her eyes water.
“What is that?”
Evelyn continued filling her pouch. “I think it’s high time we have a conversation with that little bird outside.”
Lydia shook her head. “I’ve dealt with these witches before. They’re dangerous. Best to avoid direct confrontation if we can.”
