At Your Service

Chapter 4- Study

    The household was fortunate enough to have converted one of the staircases of its double grand staircase into a ramp years ago, when they made their home more accessible to customers with physical disabilities, so Carlisle faced no complications as he pushed Anja's wheelchair upstairs. Anja turned around and tapped the butler's gloved hand, causing him to stop. "What is it, madam?" he wondered with a soft expression.
She wrote "study, please" on the notepad.
"I'll take you there, then." He was silent for a moment as he resumed pushing the wheelchair. "You may continue using that notepad until your voice has fully healed and returned."
Anja signed again, thanking him, before writing, "I am going to make a potion for my voice once I am in my study."
"Fascinating," Carlisle murmured, knowing this was only a part of her reasons for going into her study. He wore a wide, wicked, satisfied grin, only known to himself. They soon were stopped in front of the study. Before Carlisle could open the door, Anja started standing up, using the wheelchair as support. "Careful, madam. You cannot get ahead of yourself," he reminded her as he walked around and handed her the crutches from the bag. "Would you like me to take the bag to your bedroom?" Anja nodded, so the butler nodded right back. "I will be around on this floor if you need anything. Don't give me a shout... maybe hit something with your crutch? I'll hear you." Anja chuckled, the sound raspy and strangled, but it still made Carlisle smile with genuine content, knowing his mistress was entertained. "Would you like some tea?" Anja sighed out her nose, nodding again. "It will be ready shortly, then." He placed the bag, which now only held the ointment and body wash, in the seat of the wheelchair and grasped its handles, ready to leave, when Anja knocked on the door to the study with the end of one of the crutches. Carlisle turned around with raised eyebrows.
"Thank you... so much... for everything you've... done so far, Carlisle," Anja rasped, her voice barely above a whisper. She had to take breathing breaks every few words.
Carlisle tilted his head and grinned as he bowed. "You're most welcome, my Lady." He stood up straight and smiled at the witch one more time before leaving with the wheelchair, body wash, and ointment, his steps graceful, rhythmic, and full of purpose. Anja's grin fell as she watched him leave before entering her study. She was growing less and less unsure of the new butler with each passing minute.
The far wall, which was all just a large window, had its large, heavy curtains drawn, so the chamber was cast in darkness until she lit candles, turned on lamps, and got a fire burning in the fireplace.
It was the first time Anja had been left alone since the incident. It was the first time she was allowed to be alone with her thoughts and emotions.
Her parents were killed, burned alive in an abandoned warehouse, by witch hunters, who had taken all three witches and beaten them senselessly. Their mistake was with Anja when they didn't stay long enough to make sure she died with her parents. She was all alone in a gigantic mansion with no legs, burns, and a butler she had no knowledge of who was giving her some really dangerously ambiguous vibes.
The witch opened her Book of Remedies to the page for the voice called "Silence Begone." It allowed those previously unable to speak to speak, whether sentient or not. It cured any ailment which prevented speech. Non-sentient beings, such as animals, would only be able to speak for a brief period of time. The potency of the potion would tell the amount of time the subject could be able to speak. For Anja, the weakest form of the spell would easily do the trick. It required three teaspoons of honey for soothing, a pinch of volcanic salt for freshness, a half a cup of holy water for clarity and purity (and to put everything else into), and six drops of angel blood for healing, one of the two main magical components. The other magical component of the potion were the words spoken once all the ingredients were mixed together and heating in a tea kettle over the fire.
"Speak to you, I will. Speak to me, you will. I will hear you, you will hear me. My tongue you understand, your tongue I understand. May my Voice be heard so I may respond to your call," Anja whispered before taking the kettle off the fire and pouring the contents, now looking like a thick, syrupy substance that was still bubbling and steaming with a sweet smell.
She drank her concoction while beginning to search her bookshelves, which took up one wall of the room. This hadn't been her study alone, but the family study, the one of her and her parents, her father's parents, and so forth. The mansion and everything within had been in the family for generations.
Anja found the sigil book she was looking for and sat down on a couch before beginning to flick through it, looking for the symbol now engraved in ink into her skin.

Anja held a meeting with her lawyer about the wills of her parents (everything that was theirs, from finances to properties, now belonged to her), and was present for dinner, but she locked herself in her study at all other times, even into the ungodly hours of the morning. She'd changed into something nicer only for the lawyer, then changed back into loungewear, a black cardigan with a white cropped tank top underneath and grey sweatpants tied high at her waist. Her prosthetic feet were bare. The fire was close to dying, so the room was naturally colder than before, but Anja hardly noticed as she paced frenetically around the room, practicing walking with only one crutch whilst flicking through the pages. She'd tied her hair up in a bun. There were three gentle knocks on the door before the door opened, and in stepped Carlisle with a tray holding a teapot with steam rising from the spout and a teacup on its little saucer. Startled, Anja stopped pacing and looked up with tired but frantic eyes.
"Sorry, I thought you'd be sleeping by now," Anja sighed as she closed the book, sticking her finger in the page she was on. Her voice was low for a woman, gentle, calm, and tired. She walked over to the radio and turned it off; it had been playing music from the seventies.
"I wish I could say the same for you, my Lady," Carlisle murmured, hearing the witch's voice for the first time. "I do not sleep while my mistress is still awake." He walked in, absorbing how the study looked. He now understood why Damion suggested against cleaning, as the placement of things in a study was important to a witch, their ingredients, and the casting of their spells. Besides, except for books scattered in varying states of openness and closedness, the room was quite neat. "What has her so kept at such an hour of the night?" He continued walking until he set the tray down next to the one with an empty teapot and teacup, as well as a little plate which had a scone on it but was now clear, on the large altar, which was relatively clear. Anja had stationed herself in the lounging area, with the luxurious sofas, seats, and small coffee table, so the altar was in little use. The "living room" of the study was right in front of the window wall, through which the inky twilight was nothing but darkness, as the sky was overcast. The lamps and candles washed the room in glowing, flickering warm light that reflected off the window.
"I was studying a sigil and how to properly charge and cast it," Anja lied as she opened the book again as she leaned against the back of one of the sofas, not daring to stay stationary for too long.
Carlisle, knowing this was a lie, nodded his head with a gentle grin. "May I see it?"