"In a minute, Andrew," she replied, not looking up at him.
"Add some lavender oil, speedwell and rose oil to the water," Mindy added.
Alexandria searched through the shelf of colorful bottles in the cupboard, found the lavender oil and speedwell and added them to the water. "I can't find any rose oil," she said, placing the large bowl of scented water on the table next to the girl. Next, she went to the pantry, retrieved a large box with the word CANDLES engraved on its cedar lid. She opened it to find numerous candles of all sizes in a rainbow of colors. Some of the candles, she noticed, had tiny flowers embedded in them. She quickly placed them around the kitchen, lighting them as she went with a lighter she found in the box of candles. Within minutes, the room smelled like a forest and a thousand and one wildflowers.
Mindy looked at Nina. Unspoken words passed between them. "Of course," Nina said, hanging her parasol on a hook near the back door and extracting a red rose from the vase on the kitchen windowsill. She held the bud of the rose in her palm and squeezed it above a small bowl, muttering an incantation in an ancient language no one else in the room could understand. Moments later, a crimson stream of rose oil drizzled into the bowl, filling the room with the scent of roses. She handed the bowl of rose oil to Mindy, without another word spoken.
Kat ran back into the room with a white fluffy towel and a facecloth. She hung the towel over the back of a kitchen chair and handed the facecloth to Mindy.
"Thank you," Mindy said, taking it, adding a few drops of the rose oil to the bowl of warm water. She submerged the facecloth in the steaming water, then wrung it out. With the scented facecloth, she bathed the wounds on the girl's face, arms and throat, then her wrists and ankles, where the poisoned manacles had rubbed her skin raw. "She looks like she's wearing some kind of uniform, like a waitress's uniform," Mindy said, examining the torn fabric of the girl's black skirt and white, button-up shirt. "It doesn't look like any uniform I've seen around here before, though."
"Maybe it's a uniform from a private residence?" Kat offered. "The wait staff at home wear something similar when we have formal dinners."
"That’s possible," Mindy murmured. "But whose?"
Andrew waved his hand in the air, trying to attract Alexandria's attention for the umpteenth time, then gave up. He might as well have been invisible. He put the receiver back up to his ear. "You know what, Mrs. Barnaby, now isn't a very good time. Can I have her call you back when things calm down a little bit?"
"Of course, dear boy. That would be perfectly fine. Goodbye, dear." Then the phone went completely dead in his ear. He looked at it, jiggled the cradle up and down and held it back up to his ear. Nothing. The line was completely dead. He shrugged, chalking it up as one of the many quirks of the Witchwood house, then placed the receiver back in its cradle.
The girl on the table murmured, her eyelids fluttered, then shot open. Wide eyed and breathing hard, she looked from one face to another, until her gaze found and rested on Alexandria.
Alexandria stared back at her. "It's okay. You're okay. You're safe now." She rested her hand reassuringly on the girls arm, and she flinched. "I'm sorry," Alexandria said. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
The girl's breath began to slow, and she nodded. She raised her hand, resting her fingers on her lips.
"You're thirsty? Alexandria asked. "Do you want water?"
The girl nodded again, her eyes not leaving Alexandria.
"I'll get water," Kat said, letting go of D'Artagnan's arm and fetching a glass of water.
Mindy slid her hand under the pillow and lifted the girl's head while Alexandria held the glass to her lips. The girl drank thirstily until the glass was empty.
"More?" Alexandria asked.
The girl shook her head weakly, and closed her eyes as Mindy lowered the pillow.
"Can you tell us your name, dear?" Mindy asked softly, gently patting the girl's forehead with the damp cloth.
The girl opened her eyes slowly, as though performing this simple task required all of her strength, which in fact, it did. The poison from the bloodthorn flower was indeed doing its intended job – killing her.
"Matilda," she said in a choked whisper. "My name is Matilda Hemsworth. She, she called me a witch, but I don't know what she was talking about." She was silent for a long moment, summoning up the strength to survive as tears began to run down her cheeks. She opened her eyes again, looking back up at Alexandria, who was now also crying. "Thank you for coming for me," she said to Alexandria in a barely audible voice, before closing her eyes and drifting back to sleep.