The Stargazers Read Online Free PDF Page B

was about four inches deep and angled slightly upward, Oleander gave it a short flick back and forth before removing it. The whole procedure, from start to finish, had taken less than ten seconds. The dumb cow could have been well on her way back to her weed-filled shack in the Western Hills if she’d just cooperated. “Didn’t hurt a bit, did it Horsey?” It was an old nickname that Oleander had given her sister when they were kids, because of Holly’s naturally sad and elongated face.
    Oleander got up and carried the needle gingerly over to her small brewing station, where a pre-mixed potion in a glass bottle awaited its final key in gredient. She dipped the needle into the murky green fluid and stirred vigorously, releasing the bits of brain matter from the hollow steel tube. A brief blue light flared as the ingredients came together, and that’s how Oleander knew the serum was just right.
    She glanced back at her unconscious sister lying in a heap on the other side of the room and raised a sardonic toast. “What’s yours is mine, dear sister.” The potion wasn’t as vile as many of the others she had drank, but she braced herself against the countertop anyway as the liquid burned a fiery path down her throat, courtesy of the capsaicin extract mixed into it.
    Stepping unceremoniously over Holly’s sleeping form, Oleander retired to the chair she’d originally cornered her sister in and closed her eyes. Hopefully, come morning, everything Nan ny Lily held dear would be hers.
     
     
     
     
     

-4-
    The evening following the disastrous going away feast , Aster placed her last stuffed rabbit on the pile of dried kindling, along with pages from her old journals, baby trinkets, and her favorite childhood quilt knitted by her mother. There must have been thousands of daytime naps with that quilt, not to mention Nanny Lily’s bedtime stories with it draped over her lap. It was worn to sheer translucence in several spots.
    Oleander and Holly w ere nowhere to be found this morning, and the others wo uldn’t tell her what had happened after dinner . She’d lain awake into the wee hours, finding it difficult to sleep even with Larkspur nestled beside her and purring. Every time she’d tried to close her eyes, the rogue thought that this was last night she’d be spending in her bed would assert itself and she’d be wide awake again. The sky was streaked pink with the coming sunrise by the time her brain finally gave up its chatter. When she finally awoke to begin pre -breakfast chores, the women insisted she take off her apron and spend the day in quiet reflection . Didn’t they understand that she needed the distraction? Even her favorite tree seemed off-limits after yesterday’s paper ripping outburst.
    Her misgivings about Oleander haunted her throughout the day. At one point in the afternoon, she cornered Papa Quercus in the garden as the old man picked beans for a supper she would be a universe too far away to eat. “What happened last night after I went to bed? Papa, is Oleander up to something? Why are the others so quiet?” It was useless, of course. The old man simply looked at her, patted her face, and turned back to his harvesting.
    After placing the last of her youth’s belongings on the pile , she sighed and turned to the group. “It’ s all ready for the fire .” The three watched with solemn and almost distracted expressions.
    “You’ve made your first of many sacrifices as a woman,” Nanny Lily said.
    “Everything seems to be about sacrifice.”
    “Yes.” The ancient crone regarded her with pitiless eyes and then conjured up an ember in her wrinkled palm. It cast shadows into t he lines of her face, making it look like melting wax. She blew the small piece of fire int o the pile of kindling. It caught quickly; Ellemire hadn’t seen any rain in over three months. It was the wo rst drought in Aster’s memory. As much as she wanted to doubt her role in the Great Mother prophecy, she