Harridan

Kieran spent the better part of Sunday doing her homework. Her hand had started straining from her Picture of Dorian Grey essay. The school's copy of the book was resting on her chest with her notebook on her arched knees as she scribbled away. A shiver ran down her arm when she saw the harrowing note on the grey bedside table. A soft knock came; a clear indication it wasn't Magnolia. When Kieran gave no reply, Anna let herself in. "Don't mind me," the housekeeper began then silently hung brand-new jackets in the closet. "From James."

Kieran set her homework aside to take in the jackets: a denim one covered in floral; an argyle cardigan; and a soft pink zip-up jacket. Anna hung them on the far side of the rack; away from all the other hanging clothes. Kieran cringed then returned to writing her opinion on who brought about Dorian's demise. Anna hummed a giggle, watching Kieran's dissatisfaction.

"Not your style, is it?" Kieran didn't answer. Anna shook her head at the jackets then cleared her throat. "Magnolia's calling you down for lunch," Anna stated. Kieran still said nothing. "I heard what happened yesterday; I'll tell her you're not feeling well."

"Oh, th-thank you."

"I'll bring you something to eat before I clock off."

Anna let herself out without anything more than the door creaking. Kieran beamed smally at her closed door, swiftly deducing that it wasn't Anna who wrote it. In the quiet of her room, she continued her writing with her sore hand, too invested in her thoughts to slow down. Especially when she blamed Lord Henry Wotton for Dorian's demise.

Time passed in a blur from Kieran's pessimistic perspective filling her notebook. When she became aware of how much time had passed, it was only because her hand cramped. While waiting out the pain, she re-read her essay. In her opinion, Lord Henry was an adult while Dorian was still young and naive; his responsibility was supposed to one of guidance and instead turned into teaching Dorian to live hedonistically; something Lord Henry doesn't practice himself.

While massaging her hand and reading her work, another knock came. One more firm and slightly louder. Kieran continued reading her work and ignored the knock. Still, James let himself in. Kieran continued reading her fine, slanted handwriting. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw James shed himself of his usual suits. Instead, he wore a plain black golf shirt with jeans. He cleared his throat, earning nothing more a quick glance from a pair of jaded black eyes.

James sighed then leaned a hand on the desk, watching her message her hand. "Maggie told me about the cottage," James stated. Kieran sighed then set aside her homework. "I know it's not my place, I'm not here to intervene." She only regarded him indifferently. "I just wanted to make sure you're all right. I know I'm a stranger to you, but Maggie means a lot to me, which means you mean a lot to me." Her lips parted as she glanced at the letter she found on her bed. "There was break-in at the country club, so your mom went to cover it."

"Is that code for 'she's hiding somewhere, and she asked you to get me out of my room'?"

James couldn't help the great grin on his face. He looked around before he looked back at her, still grinning. "You said 'my room'," he pointed out. Kieran bristled then slouched her shoulders. "But, yes. She's in the library." James pointed out the door. "Please?" Kieran arched an eyebrow at him. "Anna's not bringing you food; I have a strict no eating in your room rule. Just lunch and the rest of day is yours."

Kieran squared her shoulders and followed James in a trudge down the dark wooden floored corridor that had a red Persian carpet running the length of it. Black angle socks followed the pair of loafers down the stairs. The lavender that was always in the air felt heavier on Kieran; dizzying, almost. She leaned against the archway, ignoring James heat up his cooking. Taking in the modern kitchen, she noticed a little dangling silver piece hanging from the pressed ceiling.

In it, visibly, was lavender. Kieran furrowed her eyebrows at the little cage, staring at it casually hanging in a corner, reflecting the sunlight. James set the plate on the four-seater dinner table, looking at her. "It's an infuser," he stated. "You've no doubt smelled the lavender. It's, er, believed to have a calming effect on the mind and body, and can be used in purification to remove negative energies. Some beliefs also say that lavender can be used to exposed things like demons, and other evil-doers."

Kieran linked her fingers together, seeing the manifest of her capabilities; her black nails. "'E-evil-doers?" Kieran pursed her lips. Kieran crossed the white tiled room. "Like witches?"

James held the chair out for her. Immediately her eyes darted to the Vegvísir tattoo on the back of his left hand. "Do you believe in witches?" Squeezing one hand in the other, she slid into her seat, lightly shaking her head - unsure how to feel about her answer. "Yes. In theory, lavender would expose witches, termagants, harridans, crones. The works."

"Those are synonyms for unpleasant women."

James gave an uncalled smile, like knew an inside joke he wasn't letting her in on. "Bon Appetit," he deflected.

Kieran looked down at her yellow rice dish, with it was a pork chop. Kieran looked to the fork and remembered burning. For whatever reason, Doreen cautioned Kieran against coming into contact with iron. Their aversion to iron in large enough quantities was lethal. The black, pointed nails tapped against the glass dinner table. Stainless steel was an iron alloy, yes, but not near as effective. In hand with that, Kieran remembered James noticing her flinch and also wondered: why would he have pure iron cutlery?

"Something wrong," James inquired, watching her.

Kieran swallowed hard when she looked at him. His expression illegible against her shadowy one. Kieran gritted her teeth, bracing for the burn. Kieran shook her head. Kieran took the fork. Kieran blinked quizzically at the cold, unsensational utensil. Kieran looked back to James. James flared his eyebrows questioningly at her. Knowingly, but questioningly; as if daring her to ask.

She desisted for a mouthful of her rice. Kieran hummed, not expecting it to be spicy. Fried mushrooms, crunchy onions, chili, garlic and turmeric, of course. In the mansion's dead quiet, Kieran's eyes couldn't help but linger to the tattoo. It irked her! More than that, James was readily spotted in suits; so much so that here, dressed so casually, was unorthodox.

That in itself raised another question: "what do you do for a living?"

James watched her take another mouthful of his cooking, not really making eye contact. "I'm the chief financial officer for an investment bank.

"That sounds painful, educationally."

"Master of Finance and, er, I only recently got my MBA." Kieran continued to indulge his cooking; going for a bite of her green-crusted pork chop. It was lemony, garlic-y, with a combination of herbs. "What about you? What's on your cards?" Kieran shrugged and shook her head and continued eating. "Don't be so modest; you're going to Princeton. That's a major accomplishment." Kieran shrugged a shoulder. "What're you going to study?"

"Applied language studies, or maybe..." Kieran sighed and gave another shrug "... possibly, special-needs ed."

"Wow," James breathed. "That's, er, that's a calling. That's very--"

"Don't pretend like she didn't tell you."

James sighed but nodded. "Okay." James watched her tear her pork chop to shreds with her teeth and fork. "Actually, I was hoping to talk to you about this, um, er, father-daughter dance thing." Kieran took another mouthful of rice. "Magnolia is as stubborn as a mule, but I don't need to tell you that," he chuckled. "Er, but - if you want - we could skip it. Maybe see a movie, grab a bite?"

"Word of advice: as a girlfriend, Magnolia is stubborn. As a mother, Magnolia is overbearing. Thought you'd learn that on your drive-by, yesterday."

"You really scared her."

“If you don’t terrify people a little bit, what’s the point?”

James gave a soft chuckle. "I suppose there's truth in that." Kieran set her bowl aside, finishing the last of her pork chop. "Dessert?" Kieran Folded her arms on the table. "I made cobbler." Kieran furrowed her eyebrows yet found herself nodding. "It's a family recipe. I got it from my grandmother when I was around your age. Between me, my parents and my sister, I was the one who took an interest in her cooking. When she passed, she left me her handwritten recipe books." Kieran watched him dish ice cream into two bowls. "Didn't you cook with Doreen?"

"Mr. Madigan, I'd appreciate it if you stopped trying to get to know things about me, that you obviously already know."

"I just want to know it from your perspective, that's all." Kieran sized him up as he returned the ice cream to his pristine, silver fridge. "Tell me about the things you did with her."

Already suspicious of him, Kieran shifted to face him full on as he sat back down. The stark white bowl was a contrast to the dark purple cobbler in it, underneath the vanilla and almond ice cream. "We did a lot of foraging, bowfishing. I learned how to find fresh water. We also baked a lot. Mostly over an open fire." Kieran took a spoonful of cobbler. A shiver ran down her spine. She shifted in her seat at the flavour. "What's in here?"

"It's just an oatmeal and almond crumble," James replied. "The ice cream is Anna's recipe," he went on. Kieran saw a glint spark in his eyes as he added: "and the special ingredients are black raspberries and lavender." Kieran looked down at her bowl then gave a quick glance at the infuser, turning to him.

Kieran put her spoon down then stood up, letting her curls fall forward. "I still have homework to do."

"Right," James exclaimed. "You can, er, you can go ahead and finish your dessert in your room."

"You have a strict 'no eating in your room' rule," Kieran retorted. Kieran retreated. James hurried towards the archway, after her. James sighed watching her flee up the stairs.

Kieran shut her door loudly and bolted into the en suite bathroom. She vomited out her spoonful, and then some. The vomit that came out was black with specks of purple. It was thicker than it ought to have been. Another wave escaped her, making her entire body writhe. She gripped the toilet seat, feeling it escaped. Kieran coughed the dregs of her thickened, black saliva then cleared her throat. She rinsed her mouth in the sink then made for her bed.

Pedantically Kieran started typing on her laptop: lavender warding off evil. In that, the result wasn't any more optimistic than what she experienced. Lavender was used for protection and was said to draw out the evil and chase away demons and evil spirits - as James stated. It was fashioned into a cross and hung over doorways and at the entrances of homes or draped throughout the rooms to infuse homes to protect the inhabitants against evil spirits. Furthermore, lavender could be ingested to identify practitioners of supernatural capabilities as large enough quantities would cause server sickness.

Kieran dropped her phone next to her and ran her hands over her face. When she looked at her hands, her shadow had filled her fingers and spread over the bedspread. The abrupt blackness contrasted to the sharp white next to her reader. Another folded note. Unlike the first one, this one was short and to the point: I hope the flowers cheer you up. Kieran scrunched her eyebrows then looked up - right at the white flip-top vanity. On it were white peonies, already in a vase with water.

The scary part that those were her favourite.