Page 70 of Wretched Thorns

The tremor in his left hand had gotten worse as the morning dragged on.

Across from him, Tara sketched stabilizing patterns across butcher paper with quick, confident strokes of chalk.

Eli kept watching her hands while pretending not to.

He’d spent years reading about bayou work in fragments and half-translated notes. Tara moved through it from memory. No hesitation. No second-guessing.

At the head of the table, Celie sat motionless with one hand against the black bowl. Her breathing had gone slow and steady hours ago.

Beside her, Miss Delphine turned pages in a small leather book and whispered into the quiet whenever Serena reached strongly enough through the bond to hear them clearly.

Names. Old ones.

Things the shadows around Serena might answer to.

Eli hadn’t found the right one yet.

Mel drifted through the kitchen every other hour like clockwork.

***

Miss Delphine left Celie’s shoulder at noon.

She came around the table to stand across from Eli. She set her book down at his left elbow, closed. She did not sit. She waited.

He pushed his glasses up with the knuckle of his off-hand

“Eli, honey.” she said.

“Miss Delphine.”

“Step out with me.”

He looked across the table at Tara. Tara looked back without moving her hand from the chalk. He set the pen down and stood up.

His knees weren’t his most reliable thing this morning.

Miss Delphine took him to the back porch.

She closed the screen door behind them, slow. The latch caught with the small click his mother’s screen door always made. The morning had come up hot and damp. The cicadas were screaming the high, sustained note of their song when the heat was about to break.

Miss Delphine set the book down on the porch rail and looked at him over the rim of her glasses.

“The shadows Serena carries have a name, and I think you know it.”

Eli stayed still.

He did know. The evidence was overwhelming.

“Yes,” he said quietly.

Miss Delphine studied him for a moment.

“And the others?”

Eli’s jaw tightened.

“Not yet.”