The Usurper's Crown
“Whitkoff,” called Ingrid to her mother, bundling up the two crockery jars in the burlap satchel. “Is there anything we need from the store?”Mama remained bent over the washtub and shook her head. For a change, Ingrid was glad of her mother’s indifference. Since Mama stopped watching her, her task had become much easier, although her life had become that much lonelier.For two weeks, Grace had languished in her bed. Ingrid had spooned broth, milk, and beer down her, and she swallowed, but it brou...ght her no strength. At least she had stopped her nocturnal roaming. Avan’s advice had done that much already.Everett had made good his promise the day after Ingrid had seen the ghost. He’d come to the kitchen door at dusk and stood there with his worn, blue cap in his hands. “He said,” Everett did not bother to use Avan’s name, “that you should tie a piece of iron around her neck, and put another under her bed. This will keep her in the house. He has begun work on a stronger cure.”Iron.MoreLess
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