Scars, Spells and Secrets

Chapter 10

It took over two hours total to get to the house she'd been sent an address for, and at least half an hour of that had been from the walk between the last bus stop and the address itself. She was lucky that fall had been creeping in, or else she would have been drenched in sweat by the time she arrived. The house itself was rather unremarkable and quite un-witch-like, all in all. It was slightly out of town and had no very close neighbors. The yard was large and mostly plain grass, with two trees and a few small shrubs decorating it. The house itself appeared to have been an old farm house with a large porch on which sat a simple metal and wood bench with a small metal table beside it. The paint on the building was white, with green trim around the windows and on the door itself. The roof was the same dark green. Elizabeth carefully mounted the steps going up the patio, and then rang the buzzer.

The alchemist shouted something from somewhere far off, and it took her a few moments to reach the front door. Elizabeth was surprised to see the stain on her arm much lighter, though there was a fresh burn on her left forearm now. "Come in," the woman said. She stepped aside to let Elizabeth pass.

She was very surprised to find that the house smelled of vanilla and apple. It was slightly cluttered but in a homey way, mostly with plush furniture and bookshelves with books, movies and games. On one overly large couch a cat was curled up. It lifted its head as she came into view, stared at her for a moment, and then lowered its head once more. Audrey gestured for Elizabeth to follow her and walked towards the back of the house. "Sorry, don't have time for a tour right now. Something distilling and something in the oven." She lead Elizabeth straight out back to a large sun room, passing through a kitchen from which the lovely smell was radiating. Elizabeth allowed herself a brief moment to enjoy the scent before entering the sunroom, which looked more like a mad scientist's lair than anything that she would have expected a witch to possess. There were clear flasks on all of the tables set up around the room, most on stands of some sort, one of which had a fire lit under it. A curling glass tube exited it and was supported by a metal rod attached to the stand of a secondary flask, into which a light blue liquid was slowly dripping. The alchemist checked the level in the second beaker, tapped the side lightly, and then gave a small nod. "Good," she muttered.

Elizabeth began slowly walking around the room, finding herself in front of a large cabinet with glass doors. Inside was a variety of bottles of different sizes and colors, all labelled neatly. Mouse Fur In Alcohol, one said. Another read Kelpie Water-Distilled. Elizabeth moved away from the cabinet and back to the alchemist, who was sorting empty jars.

"You said that Florence is telling people about me. Why would she do that?" she asked, too keyed up for subtlety.

Fortunately, the other woman didn't seem to mind in the least. "She is a martyr. She likes being able to tell people about the problems of people around her, and have them say 'Oh, you're such a dear for helping them! You're so good!' She's not though." She shrugged, not even looking up from what she was doing; which was, apparently, finding the proper lids for those bottles she'd picked out for use. "I think she also likes thinking that she's, like, some moral high ground. That anyone else's failings are because they're not more like her." She finally straightened up, turning to look at Elizabeth. "She's full of shit."

The statement had been said completely without malice: it was stated as fact.

Elizabeth found that she couldn't disagree. Not if what the other woman was saying was true. If she was completely honest with herself, she could think easily of at least a half-dozen times where Mrs. Maurel had brought up her own selflessness, or implied it at the least when it was far from the topic of conversation.

"So did she do that to you too?" she asked hesitantly.

The alchemist broke into an almost predatory grin. "Oh, she tried. Problem is I don't give a shit." She laughed and shook her head, going to check on the distillation again. "Don't care about putting on a face for people. She hates that. Hates that I don't care that she hates it, too." She snorted and moved into the kitchen just before a timer went off. There was a big of banging and when Elizabeth poked her head through the doorway she saw that Audrey was removing a pie carefully, setting it on a cooling rack on the counter. "She told me about you when I mentioned a medication I was on. She said you were too, and, even though I didn't ask, she told me about your problems in the past. Made it seem like some big deal." She turned to stare at Elizabeth. There was something open about her expression, something completely guileless about it.