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(XXIII.)

"I wish that bàstard was a mere Tulscan or Lykant. A twist of his neck is all," she rambled on. "He's lucky he's Talgan. Dàmn Talgans. Thinking they're all high and mighty."

Eric raised his brows at those words, which she didn't see as she still stood by the cooker with her back to him. She was heating something without a match. The aroma that wafted to his nostrils had his stomach humming in approval.

"Mother," he called calmly, cutting off her tirade.

She whirled on her heels to face him; her eyes switched from furious to concerned.

"You need to rest. Didn't Dad mention that to you?" He frowned. "Or is your hysteria a side effect of the poisoning?"

She cocked her head to a side. "Perhaps."

He shook his head, muttering a curse under his breath.

"I'm perfectly fine, Eric," she said with a frown of her own, before returning to the cooker.

"Keep lying to yourself, Mother." He stared at her back, watching his mother stir his favourite soup in a pot.

Goulash.

*****

Twenty candles in five rows and four columns. In two rows and ten columns. In ten rows and...

Jess yawned for the umpteenth time that morning, while she lay lazily on the ground, arranging candles beside her.

The night had taken its toll on her the instant she'd entered her room. However, her sleep had been cut short an hour later. Muscular backs and spiral tattoos had persistently haunted her dreams.

After trying and failing several times to return to her slumber, she'd slid down to the floor which the housekeeper had thankfully rid of its previous mess. For the next three and a half hours, Jess had tried retrocognition - viewing past events - but it seemed like she had to fail at that one, too. So, she took out her perfumed candles, which her dad said had a calming effect on the troubled mind. Instead, all she could do was arrange them into rows and columns.

She'd also tried lighting them without matchsticks. Failure again. Pyrokinesis was not her thing. The only times she'd done it were--

She shut her eyes tightly to dispel the bad memories. No! No! She wasn't going to think of fire accidents. Those were not what she intended to use as examples of fire manipulation.

Bored and still dizzy, she wrapped her blanket around herself and shuffled to her feet to look out the window. The sky was a deep shade of blue, lighter at the horizon, thanks to the rays of the rising sun.

Jess pushed her window open and climbed out, using the tree branches near it as support. When she landed on the soft lawn, she took a quick survey of her surroundings.

This was the first time she was actually taking a proper look at the backyard. And it was beautiful at dawn. Not that she'd ever admit it out loud to Mike or anyone else in her family.

With nowhere in mind, she wandered about the yard. Some of the flowers in the back garden had died off, in response to the fall season. Others were stubbornly persisting, although she knew they'd be gone before December. The evergreen conifers and ferns still flashed all their exuberant green leaves proudly.

Jess' eyes caught what she might need at the moment - the stone bench in the centre of the foliage.

She sat on it and welcomed the covering of the surrounding hedge. The calmness and light scents from the garden got to her mind really quick.

She closed her eyes and breathed in. Don't think. Don't feel. Let your mind connect with your soul, and let your soul connect with your spirit. She put her dad's lecture to practice as she let her mind, spirit and soul connect to one another.