Reapers -- The First Familiar (Reapers Chronicles Book II)

26 - George (part 1 of 2)

 

Belial held my chin and lifted my upper lids to examine my eyes. Patiently, I sat on a stool, fighting the urge to squirm as her dark brown eyes scrutinized me.

“Both lookin’ good,” she noted, turning to the cupboard full of jars with sorts of powders, roots and crawly gnarly things I wouldn’t even want to identify. “You’re lucky, girl. It ain’t common for tainted souls to stop turnin’ once the process starts. I’m mighty surprise ya even managed to suppress it for nearly a year.”

I wordlessly dropped my gaze. From the corner of my eye, I could tell Vincent was looking at me. Byron Flynn and Luci stood behind him attentively.

“It’s possible then,” he said, hoisting himself from the padded seat only to fall back again, wincing in pain. “She can fight it.”

With a shrug, Belial resumed picking up different leaves. “Can’t say for sure. Maybe its Halja’s Bind preventin’ her from turnin’. It neutralizes the supernatural. Or it could be just her.”

She headed for the stove and warmed her hands on the glowing coals before running the leaves one by one in the flames. Reaching into the notch in between her enormous bosom, she pulled out a small vial tied around her long neck. Removing the stopper, she placed a tiny drop of the clear liquid on her thumb and closed her fingers over her mouth, murmuring some incantation on it.

With the scalded leaves in her free hand, she came to me and began to reach for my left eye.

Before her oiled fingers could touch me, Vincent had already thrown himself in front of me. He caught Belial’s hand.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he growled, the veins on his forehead bulging.

It was the first time I saw Belial actually laugh, a crisp, whirring sound that seemed to be coming from under the ground. “Take it easy, kid. I ain’t gonna turn her into stone. Although, I can do that if I really wanted to.” She showed us her right palm. It emitted a gray-blue glow from the oil. “Cerberus’ tears. Wonderin’ why no one can’t get in or out this island?”

“It’s because of that stuff?”

Belial nodded. “It’s that old dog’s job ta keep the Living from getting’ in and the damned—us— from getting’ out by scatterin’ his body fluids around the island. Tried gettin’ away once in the ol’ days. Mutt was on my tail in a matter of seconds. Chased me and that slowpoke Grigori back into the village screamin’ like loons. Ate a few of my cows and a couple a boys. Never tried since.”

Belial shoved Vincent out of the way. Losing balance, he lurched askew. Luci was already beside him, catching him by his elbows before I could decide whether to help him or not.

“And how’s that supposed to help me?” I muttered from the side of my mouth, fidgeting in my seat.

Belial let out a tired long sigh. “You not listenin’, girl? It’s goin’ ta keep the damned from goin’ out. Goin’ ta keep your bad soul from takin’ over your body again.”

As the woman’s oily fingers came closer to my face, I could only shrink in my seat and hold my breath. The liquid felt thick and slimy on my left brow. She blew on the scalded leaves and began fanning them all over me as she sang and swayed in an awkward motion.

My hands itched to wipe the revolting stuff away, but Belial slapped my hands.

“You lucky it’s the fluid comin’ from the eyes and not from other orifices,” she muttered rolling her eyes with a yawn.