Mist-Torn Witches 02:Witches in Red Read Free Page A

bring herself to refuse.
    Without hesitation, Irmina hurried to the chair, and the flash of hope in her eyes made Céline want to wince. This budding power of hers didn’t always work, and even if it did, what if the news was bad?
    Reaching out, she grasped Irmina’s hand—as this was necessary. She had to be in physical contact with the person she was reading.
    Closing her eyes, Céline focused on Irmina, on the spark of her spirit within, and then Céline moved her focus to Hugo . . . to his and Irmina’s future together. At first nothing happened, but she kept trying, and a jolt hit her.
    She clenched her jaw in preparation. As the second jolt hit, she felt as if her body were being swept forward along a tunnel of mist, and she forgot everything but the sensation of speeding through the mist all around her as it swirled in tones of grays and whites.
    This journey was not a long one, and almost immediately, the mist vanished and an image flashed before her. She saw a small bedroom with faded walls. For some reason, her sight often led her into bedrooms . . . deathbeds or childbeds or simply scenes playing out in bedrooms. She didn’t know why.
    Looking down, she saw Irmina sitting on a stool beside a bed. A young man lay in the bed with his eyes closed. His head was bruised, and he was clearly unconscious, as opposed to sleeping. Irmina was holding a cup of water, and she leaned forward to lift the back of his head and try to pour some of the water into his mouth, probably in the hope that he would swallow it. Most of the liquid ran down the sides of his mouth.
    “Please, Hugo,” she said. “Try for me.”
    From where Céline stood, she could see the window, and the sun was setting. The sky was filled with orange clouds. She knew that Irmina could not see her. Céline was not truly there. She was only an observer.
    Just as her gaze turned back toward the man on the bed, she heard a cough, followed by the sound of Irmina gasping.
    Another cough rang out, this time followed by the sound of sputtering.
    “Hugo?” Irmina said.
    Céline moved closer to the bed. The man’s eyes were open, and he was staring out in confusion while still partially choking on the water. After a moment, his gaze seemed to clear.
    “Irmina?”
    Sucking in loud breaths, Irmina dropped to herknees beside the bed. “Can you hear me? See me all right? Do you know your name?”
    Céline was surprised at the young woman’s presence of mind, to be asking such questions, but . . . they were sensible questions.
    Hugo wiped some of the water from his mouth and then licked his fingers as if thirsty. “Course I know my name,” he said weakly. “What’s happened?”
    The small room vanished, and Céline felt herself being whisked backward through the mists.
    She opened her eyes to see Irmina sitting rigid.
    “Well . . . did you see anything?”
    “Yes,” Céline answered instantly. “He does wake. I don’t know how soon, but the time of day was sunset. I don’t think it could be further away than tonight or tomorrow, as his body couldn’t survive much longer without him drinking water properly.”
    “But he wakes up? You saw him wake up?”
    “Yes.”
    Irmina leaned forward as if she was going to be sick. “Oh, thank you . . . thank you.”
    “It’s all right.” Céline reached out to help her sit back up.
    And suddenly, it
was
all right. She had just used her powers and helped someone, and she felt . . . glad. Before her ability to truly see into the future had surfaced, she’d spent five years pretending to read futures, and in the process, she’d often dispensed advice.
    The latter came back to her as naturally as if she’d never stopped. “Listen to me,” she said. “Don’t sell the ring just yet. Evrard will not throw you out in the nextday or two. Wait for Hugo to wake up, and once his mind is clear, ask for his thoughts on this matter. If he feels he’ll need weeks to heal, he might counsel you to sell