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For now, here is her story

 

Bean | The Familiar 

The apothecary had gone quiet.

Bundles of herbs slept upside down from the rafters,

their shadows long against the walls.

Bottles stood shoulder to shoulder

beneath handwritten names,

holding remedies, poisons,

and things that preferred not to be named at all.

 

From the window,

the last of the evening light

caught on chains and crystals,

scattering little pieces of color

across the floor.

 

Everything was exactly

where it belonged.

 

Almost.

 

There came a tiny clink of glass.

 

Then another.

 

A chain pulled slowly across the sill.

 

Somewhere between the dried belladonna

and a bottle marked DO NOT OPEN,

something glittering disappeared.

 

A crystal followed.

 

Then another.

 

A bead followed.

 

It struck the floor—

 

buh,

buh-buh,

buh-buh-bounce

beneath the cabinet.

 

Silence.

 

A patient breath.

 

At the worktable,

the Warden’s pestle slowed

against the mortar.

 

Once ’round the bowl.

 

Twice ’round.

 

Then stopped.

 

From somewhere near the window

came the delicate complaint

of metal under weight,

followed by a small click

and the unmistakable sound

of something being dragged

where it had no intention

of going quietly.

 

Through the quiet of the apothecary,

one name carried.

 

“Bean.”