aunt to worry.
His aunt!
Julia’s head jerked up. That’s it!
She jumped and nearly knocked into the desk as she lost her balance scurrying over Basil’s body. She hurried to Mrs. Prescott’s chair where, lying on the table beside it, sat her smelling salts. Mrs. Prescott always kept them near, especially in need for when she read letters from her brother. The man was always writing such astounding things to his sister, causing her upset.
Julia grabbed the smelling salts and rushed back to Basil, falling to her knees. With one hand, she lifted Basil’s head and waved the bottle beneath his nose.
It took two passes before his nose crinkled, and his eyelids flickered. She put the bottle down and held his head on her lap as he came awake. His gaze met hers.
She smiled.
****
“What am I doing on the floor?”
“Again? I was about to ask you,” Julia said. He made no motion to rise. Just rested his head on her lap and stared at her face. She took the liberty of returning her hand to his hair. She brushed a few tendrils, running her fingers again through the silky strands. It felt so soft.
“What are you doing?”
“Helping you.”
“With my hair?”
“It’s in need of brushing.” That comment won a smile.
“Of course,” he said with a wry quirk to his lips. “Whenever I wake mysteriously on the floor of the library, my hair is in desperate need of brushing. Lucky you were here to save my appearance.”
“I am so glad to be of assistance,” she said, smiling back. But, her smile faded as a tremble shuddered through him. And then another. His body was shivering, shaking. It appeared he had no control over it.
“Basil, what’s wrong? What’s happening to you? Are you ill?”
At the sight of her frown, Basil’s amused smile vanished. He sighed, closing his eyes.
“Will you help me to my feet?”
He struggled to sit upright, while she kept an arm on his back, guiding him. He clasped the edge of the desk and used it to push up. Julia took one arm, not so much lifting, but helping to keep him steady.
As soon as he stood on his feet, he looked in worse shape than she imagined. He swayed. His knuckles turned white as he grasped the desk’s edge. She kept her arm clasped around his, knowing if he lost consciousness the best she could do was guide his descent.
He was a very big man.
“Basil, this will not do. I must call Parker for some assistance.”
“Parker? And what will he do? The man is older than the Bible. He can’t help me.”
“Then let me fetch Mrs. Prescott. She knows a spell to take you to your room. I’ve seen her perform it.”
Basil shook his head. “There’s no need to disturb her. She’d worry needlessly. Leave her to her slumber.”
As she suspected, he did not wish to upset his aunt. But, that did not resolve the dilemma that faced them. How to get him to his room when he used so much effort simply to stand? Whatever ailed him had weakened him.
“Wait,” she said. “Can you stand for a moment on your own?”
He nodded. “I can try.”
He braced himself on the desk and leaned forward to put some of his weight on the furniture. She slipped around him, grabbed the chair she had used while reading and dragged it over. With a grateful sigh, he slumped into the chair and leaned forward to rest his forehead on the desk.
Julia picked up the candle she dropped earlier. Whispering a few words, a flame sputtered to life on the wick.
Basil lifted his head, looking first at the candle and then to her. The corner of his mouth tilted upward. “You’ve been practicing.”
“I have a certain talent for parlor tricks, nothing more.” She shrugged.
He grunted. “You have the blood for it. Your father is a powerful witch, after all. I daresay he’s the strongest among us.”
“Yes. He had far more talent than I or my sister will ever possess.”
Basil stilled. The smile slowly drained away from his face. He looked at her, his brow creased in silent question. She
His aunt!
Julia’s head jerked up. That’s it!
She jumped and nearly knocked into the desk as she lost her balance scurrying over Basil’s body. She hurried to Mrs. Prescott’s chair where, lying on the table beside it, sat her smelling salts. Mrs. Prescott always kept them near, especially in need for when she read letters from her brother. The man was always writing such astounding things to his sister, causing her upset.
Julia grabbed the smelling salts and rushed back to Basil, falling to her knees. With one hand, she lifted Basil’s head and waved the bottle beneath his nose.
It took two passes before his nose crinkled, and his eyelids flickered. She put the bottle down and held his head on her lap as he came awake. His gaze met hers.
She smiled.
****
“What am I doing on the floor?”
“Again? I was about to ask you,” Julia said. He made no motion to rise. Just rested his head on her lap and stared at her face. She took the liberty of returning her hand to his hair. She brushed a few tendrils, running her fingers again through the silky strands. It felt so soft.
“What are you doing?”
“Helping you.”
“With my hair?”
“It’s in need of brushing.” That comment won a smile.
“Of course,” he said with a wry quirk to his lips. “Whenever I wake mysteriously on the floor of the library, my hair is in desperate need of brushing. Lucky you were here to save my appearance.”
“I am so glad to be of assistance,” she said, smiling back. But, her smile faded as a tremble shuddered through him. And then another. His body was shivering, shaking. It appeared he had no control over it.
“Basil, what’s wrong? What’s happening to you? Are you ill?”
At the sight of her frown, Basil’s amused smile vanished. He sighed, closing his eyes.
“Will you help me to my feet?”
He struggled to sit upright, while she kept an arm on his back, guiding him. He clasped the edge of the desk and used it to push up. Julia took one arm, not so much lifting, but helping to keep him steady.
As soon as he stood on his feet, he looked in worse shape than she imagined. He swayed. His knuckles turned white as he grasped the desk’s edge. She kept her arm clasped around his, knowing if he lost consciousness the best she could do was guide his descent.
He was a very big man.
“Basil, this will not do. I must call Parker for some assistance.”
“Parker? And what will he do? The man is older than the Bible. He can’t help me.”
“Then let me fetch Mrs. Prescott. She knows a spell to take you to your room. I’ve seen her perform it.”
Basil shook his head. “There’s no need to disturb her. She’d worry needlessly. Leave her to her slumber.”
As she suspected, he did not wish to upset his aunt. But, that did not resolve the dilemma that faced them. How to get him to his room when he used so much effort simply to stand? Whatever ailed him had weakened him.
“Wait,” she said. “Can you stand for a moment on your own?”
He nodded. “I can try.”
He braced himself on the desk and leaned forward to put some of his weight on the furniture. She slipped around him, grabbed the chair she had used while reading and dragged it over. With a grateful sigh, he slumped into the chair and leaned forward to rest his forehead on the desk.
Julia picked up the candle she dropped earlier. Whispering a few words, a flame sputtered to life on the wick.
Basil lifted his head, looking first at the candle and then to her. The corner of his mouth tilted upward. “You’ve been practicing.”
“I have a certain talent for parlor tricks, nothing more.” She shrugged.
He grunted. “You have the blood for it. Your father is a powerful witch, after all. I daresay he’s the strongest among us.”
“Yes. He had far more talent than I or my sister will ever possess.”
Basil stilled. The smile slowly drained away from his face. He looked at her, his brow creased in silent question. She
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