Chapter 12: Enough to Kill a Horse

Rowena stood on the porch with the thermos lid in her hand and waited to die.

She held very still.

Nothing happened.

Her tongue tingled. Her fingers buzzed.

Then even that faded.

She stood in the cold with a stomach full of poison and a clear head.

She knew that taste.

She had drunk a pinch of it every morning of her life.

This was not a pinch.

She took the thermos and the note and walked to the clinic in the half dark.

Lachlan caught up with her at the gate.

He was out of breath and half dressed, and his eyes were wild.

"You left," he said.

"I had somewhere to be."

"Without a word. The bond nearly dragged me out of the loft."

"Then you'll want to see this."

She held out the note.

He read it twice and his face changed.

"It's her hand," he said.

"Whose?"

"Vivian's."

He said it very flat. He did not look at her.

"Anyone could copy a signature," he said. "Anyone."

"Read the thermos, Lachlan."

Hester was already in the clinic, boiling water.

She took one sniff of the thermos and her whole face went hard.

"Who gave you this?"

"It was on my porch."

"Did you drink it?"

"Half."

Hester set the thermos down and put both hands flat on the counter.

"That is three hundred times the dose I give you," she said.

"A third of it would stop a grown wolf's heart. Half would stop a horse."

"I'm fine."

"I can see that you're fine."

Lachlan had gone as white as the wall.

"Then she should be dead," he said hoarsely.

"She should."

"Why isn't she?"

Hester did not answer.

She looked at Rowena for a long moment, with her old eyes bright and wet.

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