Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 68024 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68024 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
I smirk but then stop to give it some thought.
“You know, you’re not wrong.”
“I’m absolutely right. Mark my words, before long, we’re going to have to go in on a warehouse space so we have more room to make our stuff.”
The thought makes my arms break out in hives. “I don’t want to do that. I like making everything myself in my little kitchen.”
“You won’t be able to keep up with it there for long. You’ll need more ovens, more sink space, another stove. That house is gorgeous, but it’s not big enough for that.”
“Well, damn it. Maybe I don’t need to expand. I make enough money for what I need.”
Breena giggles and then reaches for my hand. “You could be the only person I know who doesn’t get excited at the thought of raking in more money.”
“I don’t need more money.”
“Exactly.” Her phone rings, and when she looks down at it, she scowls and sends it to voicemail.
“Who was that?”
“Giles,” she says, shaking her head. “He won’t stop calling. My phone rings three times a day, like clockwork.”
“Maybe you should do something really crazy and answer it.”
Breena licks her lips and sets the phone down. “No. I don’t know what to say, Lucy.”
“Well, he clearly has something to say to you, so you could just listen to him.”
Before she can reply, there’s a knock on the door. Nera’s head comes up, but he doesn’t whimper.
“I’m just popular today,” Breena says as she opens the door, stopping short when she sees it’s Giles. “Uh, hello.”
“Hi. I wanted to come talk to you.”
“I’m busy,” she replies, her voice stronger than I’ve ever heard it. “I’m sorry, I’ll have to see you another time.”
“Are you sure?” he asks.
“Yes. I’m not ready to talk to you.”
“You won’t invite me in?”
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “Have a good day, Giles.”
And with that, she closes the door and turns to me.
“First, I want to say good for you for sticking up for yourself,” I begin. “But also, who are you, and what have you done with my cousin?”
Chapter Eleven
Jonas
I find it harder and harder to go back to Hallows End each day. Not because of the modern conveniences in Salem or even the perpetually dreary weather in my village.
It’s because leaving Lucy gets increasingly more difficult.
I fear that leaving her will be permanent one day—and that makes my heart bleed.
But I have people to see to and a home to take care of in Hallows End. So, each day, I return. I left Lucy and Nera still sleeping peacefully this morning as I left well before dawn. I know she will likely have a busy day in her apothecary as Salem grows fuller and fuller of people every day.
And it will only continue to do so as we get closer to Samhain.
As I walk, I think of the books I need to trade out, and that I want to start keeping my Book of Shadows in Salem.
I don’t know why I feel that it’ll be safer there, but something in my mind demands it be so.
And I’m not one to go against my guides.
As I cross the bridge into Hallows End, I immediately hear someone yelling my name.
“Jonas! Help, Jonas!”
I rush to where Robert Akerman stands near my cabin.
“I am here.” I drop the books by my doorstep as the man hurries to me. “What troubles you, Robert?”
“I searched for you everywhere,” he says, trying to catch his breath. “Jonas, it’s Rebecca.”
My eyes narrow. This is…different. It’s never happened before.
“What has happened?”
“She is giving birth this morn.”
I simply stare at the other man.
Rebecca has been pregnant for three hundred and thirty years.
And she’s never given birth before.
“Let us go,” I reply and immediately run behind the other man to their cottage on the other side of the village.
I can hear her screams of despair. Goddess, how I wish I could bring the advancements of medicine to these people.
“Jonas,” Rebecca breathes. “Help me.”
Rushing to the end of the bed, I do my best to bring everything I know about childbirth to the forefront of my mind.
“It has been so long,” I mutter and dig my fingers into the skin of my forehead.
“Elisabeth York had her baby just three months past,” Robert reminds me, and all I can do is nod.
That baby was born centuries ago for me. For them, it’s been mere months.
“Okay, Robert, please put a pot of water on the fire to boil. We also need clean cloths.”
He nods and, happy to be given a task, hurries off to complete it.
Rebecca writhes in pain on the bed, and I feel sweat dripping down the middle of my back.
Help me. Lucy, wake up and help me, please.
Rebecca cries out and reaches for my hand. Her stomach is rock-hard, and when I reach between her legs, I can feel the baby’s head.