If trauma weakened the spirit inside a vessel, another spirit could slip in and take its place. Duo Vitro knew this. The Bruha, devoted to her master, had promised him a host: the unsuspecting bride of her son, Roderick. She despised the young woman with every fiber of her being, but she hated her son even more for defying her and marrying the chit. In exchange for riches and power, she would offer Rosa to her deity. She prepared a sweet bread she knew the girl was fond of and brought it during a visit when Roderick would be away. She did not want him tasting the poisoned pastry. Rosa, hungry for her mother-in-law’s approval, accepted the peace offering with gratitude, naïvely believing Mrs. Thomas had finally accepted her.
Rosa was so pleased that Mrs. Thomas seemed to be warming to her that she ignored the warning bells ringing in her head. The bread was still warm beneath the towel her mother-in-law had carried it in, and its sweet aroma filled the room. Rosa waved as Mrs. Thomas walked down the driveway and into the sun-drenched street beyond. She would have it with tea, she decided, humming to herself as she put the kettle on.
Angelica clung to Rosa’s legs as she lit the fire.
“Rotha, a-yeah, yeah, yeah?” she babbled, letting go and reaching up to be held. Rosa looked down at the pudgy little cherub with love in her eyes.
Despite everything she had endured, she was grateful for her dear child. She lifted Angelica and stepped away from the stove. Angelica turned in her mother’s arms and pointed to the space above the warm bread on the table.
“Dutty!” she insisted and turned back to look at her mother, checking to see if Rosa was following where she was pointing.
Rosa looked at the spot in confusion. “What are you showing me, Ange? There’s nothing there.”
“Dutty!” the child insisted.
“Dirty? What’s dirty?”
Angelica shook her head, growing more agitated at her mother’s misunderstanding, but Duo Vitro knew exactly what the little rascal meant. She was pointing at him as he hung suspended over the sweet bread, his energy tethered to the towel that held it. The brat was probably trying to say “duppy,” but her clueless mother could not understand. Where would she even hear a word like that? he wondered. Then he reminded himself that the people of this land were always talking about such things, and the child must have overheard them. Clever little thing, he thought, but it did not matter. She could not save her mother from what was coming.
The kettle began to whistle. Rosa set Angelica down and returned to the stove to turn off the fire. She took a cup from the cupboard, found a teabag, and poured the steaming water into the waiting vessel. Yes, Duo Vitro thought. Just as I will pour into your body once that bread has weakened you. While the tea steeped, Rosa untied the towel and inhaled the bread’s sweet, deceptive aroma.
Angelica tugged at Rosa’s housecoat. “Mama, mama, no!” She shook her head vehemently, but Rosa swatted her hands away.
“Don’t be silly. If you’re a good girl, I will give you some.”
Angelica stuck out her bottom lip and shook her head in denial. That was strange to Rosa because Angelica, like any kid her age, loved sweets. She broke off a piece and waved it in front of the little girl. It was Angelica’s turn to swat her mother’s hand away.
“No? You don’t want it? More for me.” Rosa teased, then popped the pastry into her mouth and devoured it. It was not as good as her mother’s sweet bread; it had a cloying sweetness she could not place. Angelica roared and stomped her feet in defiance.
“Well, you didn’t want it, so I ate it. If you behave, I’ll let you have some.”
She put a little evaporated milk in her tea, but no sugar and sat down to enjoy her treat. Angelica clambered to get in her lap. She lifted her daughter and sat her on her thigh. She took a sip of the tea to wash down the morsel she had just consumed and reached across the table to grab some more of the bread. She broke off a generous piece and pinched off a smaller portion for Angelica.
The ungrateful child grabbed the chunk and hurled it onto the floor. Then, to add insult to injury, she snatched Rosa’s portion and threw it away as well. Esmerelda, the ginger tabby, dashed from her hiding place toward the bread, took one sniff, and hissed, her back arched high. That was strange. The cat was so lickerish she would eat anything. The hair on Rosa’s arms rose, and at the same moment, her stomach began to cramp. Duo Vitro looked on in anticipation. It would not be long now.
Rosa clutched her stomach, set the child off her lap with her free hand, and staggered toward the sink. Too late, she tried to vomit up the food she had just consumed, but Duo Vitro was already spreading through her, slipping into the hollow the poisoned bread had made. Rosa’s breath caught as an icy presence coiled around her heart and climbed toward her throat. She tried to scream, but her voice collapsed inside her. Something shoved against her spirit, hard and merciless, forcing her back from her own eyes, her own hands, her own flesh. Angelica cried out behind her, but Rosa could no longer turn to comfort her.
Duo Vitro had stepped in.