Seaside Moors Maybe I should get to church on Sunday...

erzulie did not miss the ghost that haunted stryx' gaze a moment. 
nor the grotto.
the harlot had known in her marrow that the seawitch had come to a bad end, but had not sought the details. in the end, however, it did not seem to matter. caiaphas had beckoned raleska from beyond the veil, seated in power forever somewhere in the boneyard of death. how could a daughter do else but listen to a woman become gatekeeper? and that dear link was why erzulie could never adopt the role of mother; not fully.
"i will always be grateful to you for saving her life," the woman rejoined softly with a twitch of her spice-dark ears. another breath, and then she swept them both on, refusing to linger in the dark shadows of the sound with her assumptions of what had happened.
"i would be happy to learn a t'ing or two about midwifing. it was nevah for me. just patching woun's." that had been a skill erzulie had avoided all her life, despite seeing the birth of cully-bastards all her life.