Ghost of a Potion by Heather Blake

Author:Heather Blake [Blake, Heather]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2015-10-06T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

I’d had to spend the night in the hospital, which was hell on earth for an empath.

Hell. On. Earth.

Which was why I’d been surprised that Delia had voluntarily slept all night in one of the chairs next to my bed.

Dylan had been in the other.

I’d been released at noontime the next day and they had driven me straight home, where I’d taken an extremely long shower in an attempt to cleanse my body of its smoky smell.

An attempt that had failed.

The scent clung relentlessly to my hair, my skin, and I had the uncomfortable notion that it was seeping straight out of my pores.

It was now pushing two o’clock, and I was stretched out on the couch, resting per doctor’s orders.

And hating it.

I was restless, feeling like there were things I needed to do. I didn’t have time for proper recuperation. Today was November first, All Saints’ Day. A day some churches and their congregants celebrated those who had attained sainthood. For me, it marked the rising of more spirits. More ghosts in need of help. The day also signaled that time was running out as well. I had only until eleven fifty-nine tomorrow night to ensure the eternal departure of Haywood, Virgil, and Jenny Jane.

Lying here on this couch wasn’t going to help any of them. Time was not on our side.

“It wasn’t premeditated,” Dylan said. “The Molotov cocktail was made with items found in the Ezekiel kitchen. A milk bottle, kerosene from the lamps on the mantel, a dish towel. Whoever it was must have seen you two together and when you went into the basement, they took action. But who? And why?”

Dylan, Delia, and I were trying to make sense of why someone had wanted to roast Mr. Butterbaugh and me like marshmallows.

“Carly definitely ticked someone off but good,” Delia said, biting back a smile. She was working on my laptop, researching Avery Bryan. Boo lay next to her, his head resting in the crook of her arm.

“That’s nothing new,” Dylan said, kissing my head as he walked into the kitchen.

“Hey!” I protested, my voice raspy from the smoke inhalation. “How do we know Mr. Butterbaugh didn’t tick someone off?”

Delia tipped her head and gave me a wry look. Dylan popped his head out of the kitchen and did the same.

“It’s possible,” I said, sniffing.

“Let’s go over this again.” Dylan brought Delia and me cups of tea.

The tea was supposed to soothe my throat, but I knew a dose of Leilara would have me feeling as good as new in no time. My daddy was dropping off a potion for me any minute now.

“Who all did you talk to yesterday?” Dylan lifted my legs and sat on the sofa, then dropped my legs onto his lap.

Which didn’t make Roly and Poly very happy. They bookended my hips; Roly curled into a ball as she napped, and Poly sleeping on his back, his limbs outstretched. Dylan had disturbed their slumber and they meowed protests until Dylan scratched their heads and they started purring.

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