Hell's Eyes

HELL'S EYES

“Exhausted,” she groaned, “right down to the bone.” “Do you…do you see anything?” “‘ See anything,’” Mr. Hyacinth scoffed. “Whatever do you mean, Basil?” Elsie cracked her eyes open once more and looked at her parents and Halberry’s lone Healer all crowded around her bedside. “I see only those who would wish to disturb my rest.” Her mother huffed, a humorous lilt to its tail. “Honestly, Elsie. I don’t know why we bother to fret.” “Could it perhaps have something to do with the fact that I’m the only one who’s managed to make Grandmama’s loquette loaves?” She smiled weakly. “Aye,” her mother said softly, shaking her head at her daughter’s unbothered nature. “Must be.” A pitiful creak met Elsie’s ears. Turning her head toward the noise, Elsie opened her eyes in time to see Mr. Basil rise from the seat pulled up beside her bed. “Well,” he began, pulling on his overcoat, “I suppose I should return to the infirmary and see how Mr. Noblémyn is faring. Mr. Hyacinth, Mrs. Hyacinth, I hope the next time we meet, it is under better cir cumstances. Please remember to give Miss Hyacinth this elixir every hour until the bottle is finished.” Elsie frowned, watching the exchange between her parents and the herbalist as he left, only just realizing she wasn’t in his infirmary at all, but rather her own bed in her own apartment above her family’s bakery. She just barely had the wits about her to return Mr. Basil’s farewell nod with a mumbled thank you before her parents were fussing over her once more, asking after her condition or if she needed anything. “I think,” Elsie managed to say through the curtain of exhaustion falling over her once more, “some rest would do me well.” “By Balmae’s grace,” her father said, “I can’t imagine what compelled

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