To Curse a Rival: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel (Majestic Midlife Witch Book 2) by N. Z. Nasser

Author:N. Z. Nasser [Nasser, N. Z.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hanora Sky Press
Published: 2023-10-07T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

The next morning, as the sun found its way into our house, Babbu perched beside the window, his vibrant plumage illuminated by the soft, golden light. His anxiety had melted away once he learned that it might be possible to bring Mahi home. It pleased him that we’d unravelled the meaning of his feather loss: he was the key to finding his beloved seer.

We shut the windows and ensured no neighbours poked their noses into our living quarters, even when Ishaan tumbled through the door and pleaded with us to see Merlin. There was so much at stake, so many secrets to keep under wraps, and I’d promised Deven to be careful. So I sent the boy away with promises of a future visit.

The parrot’s transformation was a marvel to behold. The melon mayhem was behind us. A sprightly serenity had replaced his once agitated movements. He pecked at his breakfast, savouring his seeds with relish. The uneven, haphazard fluttering of his wings had become a graceful and purposeful glide. He looped through the air with newfound confidence, skimming the ground and the ceiling until I couldn’t watch any more for fear of injury that he narrowly avoided. He hopped from the windowsill to the bed and kitchen counter and back again with newfound ease. His chattering washed over us, fragments of ominous phrases. “Blood moon. Celestial tune. Secrets old and true.”

Most strikingly, while his beak had not yet fully healed from his unfortunate meeting with the windowpane, Babbu’s plumage was no longer patchy. Thanks to Leena, his green feathers shimmered like a canvas reflecting the brilliance of a new day.

Only Merlin soured at the parrot’s flights, playful hops, and vibrant calls. His black and tan body hunched. “I tried everything to make him happy.”

“You did more than make him happy, Merl. You kept him safe while we were figuring this out.” I crouched to comfort him and then turned to Leena with a slow, disbelieving shake of the head. “I don’t know how you managed to rejuvenate his feathers. You weren’t even trying to heal him.”

“Well, it made sense to me,” said Leena. “The animal compendium says that the feathers have to be newly harvested, and we know we need to keep Babbu hidden. The mountain of expelled feathers is a liability. We have to get rid of them. I figured we can’t just toss them into the bin. Burying them is too risky as some cretin might dig them up. So burning was the only way.”

“Show me again.”

She grinned. “Watch that remaining sore spot near the crown of his head.”

With a glint in her eye, she gingerly picked up a feather that had fluttered to the ground. Beside her, a simple matchstick awaited its purpose. She struck the match against the rough edge of the matchbox and lit a flame. Then she held it to the feather’s emerald tip. A sharp and acrid aroma, akin to gasoline, saturated the room. Babbu cocked his head with keen interest, though Leena had repeated this process over and over in the hours since waking.

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