10. The Witch Is A Bitch
Ididn’t sleep again that night. Nobody did. The coven was a hive of activity, preparing for my noble quest. Dawn’s golden light was creeping across my room, making the rekindled candles useless when Pansy appeared, bearing a woven basket propped on her hip.
“Clothes,” she announced, depositing the basket on my bed. “For the expedition.”
This was it then. It was really happening. Reluctantly, I uncurled myself from the armchair by the fire and crossed to the bed. I hadn’t fancied putting my feet on the floor where a lurking shade might grab them, but now the sun had risen, I had one less thing to fear.
Yeah right. I was heading out into a world ruled by a human hating king, where monsters would stalk my every step, intent on my blood. I was supposed to break a curse that had claimed the lives of countless other people. There was every reason to be afraid. Terrified. To change my mind and make a run for the rift.
But shades were real. Magic was real. As unbelievable as any of it was, I could no longer deny that the witches had told the truth, which meant the rifts were sealed. Even if I made it to the Blood Gate alive, I would only find the way barred. What choice did I have? Had there ever been a choice at all?
Even if the rifts had been wide open, could I really leave Neath to its fate? Leave its people to suffer? The tick of the clock on the mantlepiece, barely noticeable yesterday, had boomed like a gong through the hours following the attack, rattling around my head. Three witches gone, as easily as that. Were they dead yet, or did the king have a worse fate in store for them? Vet school had taught me that death wasn’t always the worst case scenario. Some things were not meant to be endured. Did every passing second bring a new wave of suffering upon those three witches? I had a chance to put a stop to this. How could I turn away?
On the other hand, every hour that passed meant my parents’ torment grew. Had they given up hope yet? I couldn’t see it. Even if I never found my way back, which I would, they wouldn’t give up. Even if I were here until well beyond middle age, Dad would still print missing person posters with my twenty-four-year-old face plastered across them, begging for information from anyone who would listen. Mum would keep my room clean, never changing anything, ready for my return at a moment’s notice. Did they worry that I was rotting in a dark cave somewhere, or worse, did they think I’d been snatched, spirited away to meet a grisly end in some weirdo’s cellar? My stomach knotted, writhing like maggots at the thought of what they must be enduring at this very moment. At least with the witches it was abstract. With Mum and Dad, it was all too easy to picture every harrowing moment.
“Are you alright?”
I blinked rapidly, clearing away the scenes unfolding in my mind. Pansy stared up at me, her doe eyes ringed in shadows. It robbed her of some of her youthful looks, or maybe that was the horror we had endured together.
“Just tired,” I lied, forcing a small smile. “What are you wearing?”
For the first time, I noticed her outfit. Gone was the quaint dress of yesterday, the old-fashioned nightgown of last night. Instead, she wore a collarless shirt and trousers in muted shades of green and brown, the colours merging and weaving in a sort of organic wave. Witch camouflage. Chunky soled brown boots came up to her knee, a far cry from the dainty pumps she’d favoured the day before.
Her smile was slightly more enthusiastic than the one I’d managed. “Do you like it? It’s my quest outfit. I managed to talk Mother into letting me come along. I played on the whole ‘history in the making’ and ‘I’ll be safer with you’ thing.”
My heart tried to sink and leap at the same time, resulting in a strange flopping sensation in my chest. I didn’t know who else was coming along, but I had a vague idea of the dangers awaiting my team, and I didn’t believe for a minute that Pansy would be safe anywhere near me, even if her mother was there. At the same time, a friendly face, a… friend, could be exactly what I needed to get me through whatever lay ahead.
“It looks great.” Great wasn’t an accurate description, but I could see how the patterns and colours would provide protection. It wasn’t entirely dissimilar to zebra stripes. Not that it would hide me. My colourful hair would be a beacon, and for the first time in the years since I’d picked up the bleach, I felt a twinge of regret. My natural dark blonde, boring as it was, would have been less noticeable in a landscape of grass and trees. “Hyacinth is your mother, right?”
I already knew the answer after witnessing their reunion, but I needed a distraction. Something to take my mind off my looming, impossible task.
Pansy rolled her eyes. “Yes. Do not tell me how much I look like her, it’s all I ever hear.”
My laugh was brittle but genuine. “It could be worse. Everyone tells me I look like my dad.”
Too late, I realised that Pansy’s own dad was probably long dead. He had been human, after all. But if I’d offended or upset her, she didn’t let it show. I risked probing further. “Witches breed with humans, yeah?”
“That’s right.” The witch looked… proud. Impressed that I’d bothered to listen, maybe. She laughed. “It’s been problematic in recent years. The coven is half the size it once was, and shrinking. Every winter takes more of the old ones, and the last one was particularly bad. Mother says that we won’t be strong enough to defend our borders if it goes on much longer. Maybe that’s why the shades attacked. Maelgwyn must know we’re weakening. When the curse was first cast, the witches and fae of Tir o Gaeaf combined our powers to create wards protecting both kingdoms. They don’t work against shades, but they keep Maelgwyn out. They need constant renewal. Without new witches, the wards will eventually fall.”
So much for the distraction. “What about fae? You can’t breed with them?” They looked human enough, in a god-like sort of way. A memory of my dream rushed to the forefront of my mind. Fangs clamped onto my shoulder, a hand around my neck. My ears heated and I shifted my feet.
Pansy sighed. “There were attempts, long ago. The babies were stillborn, every single one of them. Some were malformed. It’s believed that our magics clash in a way that can’t support life.”
Interesting, if terrible. There had to be some tangible link between magic and genetics. It would make a fascinating study. With time and proper resources, maybe a treatment of sorts could be found. A way to counter whatever was going wrong. Maybe humans wouldn’t be needed at all, though, in my experience of men, they would be more than happy to be used in such a way.
“Anyway, you’d better get dressed. Sage has us on a tight schedule.” Pansy pushed the basket into my arms. She crossed the room and pulled out a tall, woven screen set near my dressing table. “I won’t look.”
As I draped my nightdress and robe over the top of the screen and picked up the trousers, I couldn’t decide whether the fizzing in my belly was excitement or terror. These were the things I would wear to break the curse. My hero uniform. Except, I was no hero. I was just Aliza, an ordinary woman with a boring, safe life. I had a much better chance of joining the ranks of dead would-be heroes than I did of succeeding.
Guilt tightened its grip on my guts. What if I failed? It wouldn’t exactly come as a surprise, but if I was the first human in centuries to cross the rift, how long would it be before another came along? How many people would suffer and die in that time? I pressed my lips together and dressed in silence. The garments, identical to Pansy’s, fit perfectly and were as soft as butter. Several items remained in the basket, a blanket, a belt and some gloves. The day was shaping up to be mild, so gloves would prove useless, and I had no intention of lugging a blanket around. I left them in the basket. When I emerged from my hiding place, I couldn’t help but grin as I lifted my arms to show off my outfit.
“Ooh, it looks wonderful!” Pansy said, ushering me to the mirror.
My smile faded. Not only did my hair clash horribly with the greens and browns, but my skin carried a ghostly pallor. Tiredness or dread? Whatever it was, I looked halfway to the grave already. I didn’t believe in signs, but then again, I didn’t believe in magic either, yet here I was.
Pansy disappeared behind the screen, leaving me to scowl at my reflection. When she emerged a moment later, she was armed with the basket. Despite my reluctance to carry it, I kept my mouth shut as she draped the blanket over my shoulder and slid in front of me, adjusting the folds and tweaking the fabric. She fastened the belt around my waist, holding the blanket in place around my shoulders, but leaving my arms free.
“There,” she said. “It will keep you warm, and you can lift it over your head if it rains, and at night you can unfasten it and use it as an extra blanket. And look, gloves too.”
I pulled them on obligingly. The cuffs came halfway up my bare forearms and, despite being entirely impractical, they were sort of cute. I twisted, admiring my reflection from different angles. Even I had to admit, it looked pretty good, like a costume from a movie. I could just picture myself traipsing through the woods on my epic quest. All I needed was a bow and arrow and a wolf trotting at my side.
“I love it,” I said truthfully. It was better than Isobel’s hideous trekking outfit, that was certain. The thought of her orange fleece brought a smile to my lips. One day soon, I’d see her again, and I would never complain about her annoying tendencies again, not unless she tried to make me go hunting for fairies. That would be stamped out at once.
“I’d better go and finish getting myself ready. We’re leaving soon. I’ll come and collect you when it’s time. Bye for now!” Pansy gave an enthusiastic wave as she disappeared through the door.
I couldn’t summon any of her excitement. The clock continued to tick. Somewhere, witches were dying. Were my remaining moments numbered too?
When the witches summoned me for our departure, I slipped my phone into the deep pocket on the thigh of my new trousers. I didn’t know why I bothered; it hadn’t shown even the faintest glimmer of life since I’d crawled out of the river, but it felt wrong to leave it behind. I knew Mum and Dad, maybe even my friends, would still be trying to call me, hoping that, this time, it would connect, and I’d answer. I held absolutely no hope of the damn thing waking up, but it was a link to home. To the people who loved me. They were just on the other side of that stubbornly dark screen.
The castle was busier than it had been yesterday. I passed several groups of witches on my way downstairs, each armed with crates stuffed full of candles. They all paused to watch me pass. Some even wished me good fortune. I offered only thin-lipped smiles in response. It would take more than a few well-intentioned words of encouragement to get me through my coming ordeal. Had I been an idiot to sign myself up for this quest? Had I signed my own death certificate?
A group of nine witches dressed in identical uniforms to my own waited in the entrance hall. Most, I didn’t recognise, but Sage was among them, her blonde mane woven into a thick braid, and sure enough, Pansy beamed at me from her mother’s side as I descended the stairs.
“There you are.” Sage spoke with a tone suggesting she’d been kept waiting for forty minutes. She strode to meet me at the bottom of the stairs, pulling a belt from around her waist. “These are for you.”
Without waiting for my consent, she strapped the belt around me, over the wrap. A pair of daggers hung at each of my hips. I extracted one from its sheath. The evil-looking blade was as black as night, though the handle, predictably, sported a large crystal in a sickly shade of green. One edge of the blade was serrated, bringing to mind images of the internal damage they would inflict if used.
“A matching pair,” Sage explained, “and very old. A relic of the first fae queen, in fact. Do try not to lose them.”
Lose them? I didn’t even know how to use them. I knew how to handle a scalpel, but I had a niggling suspicion that hand to hand combat with twin daggers might prove slightly different. Still, heading into monster infested territory was slightly less daunting now that I was armed. With great care, I slid the blade back into place and followed Sage to the waiting group.
“You already know Sisters Hyacinth and Pansy. This is Hazel, Aspen, Clover, Laurel, Daffodil and Meadow.”
The last witch was short, even by witch standards, with dark angular eyes that crinkled as she smiled at me.
I returned the gesture but didn’t have the chance to speak before Sage continued. “We head for Tir o Haf. Make no mistake, the journey will be dangerous, and discretion will be vital. It is likely Maelgwyn’s shades have informed him of the presence of a human here in Nairsgarth. He is likely to focus his attention on the castle, in which case, luck may be on our side if we remain undetected. Our aim is to arrive unnoticed, retrieve the princes, and leave as quickly as possible.” She approached a heap of hiking packs piled near the bannister and shouldered one. “I have my warp crystal to return us to Nairsgarth, though the princes may prefer to teleport us to Tir o Gaeaf, which would be safer in any case. Once they wake, we concede to them, but until then, Granny has placed me in charge.”
Nobody voiced any reservations about Sage’s appointment as group leader, so I swallowed my own complaints. The witch was efficient. Maybe that was exactly what we needed. Instead, I asked, “What about the castle? Will the shades come back?”
“Yes. Our wards have been reinforced to protect against Maelgwyn himself, and we are increasing light within the castle to guard against shades. There will be no dark corners in Nairsgarth come nightfall.”
That was something, at least. The remaining witches would be safe enough, but despite Sage’s plan of discretion, I couldn’t find the same relief for me and my party. The sooner I broke the curse, the sooner we’d be safe. “How do you know where the princes are?”
“I don’t.”
My blood plummeted to my legs, leaving me cold and light-headed. “What? So, we’re just going to Tir of Haf on the off chance? Shall we knock on the palace doors and ask for directions?”
Moss green eyes narrowed in my direction. “Do not mistake me for an idle-brained idiot, girl. What do you think I’ve been doing these past centuries?”
Stealing candy from children? Pulling wings off butterflies? Practising her not-so-resting bitch face in the mirror?
“I have been studying past attempts to break the curse, looking at what went wrong, searching for patterns and discrepancies, themes and clues. I have travelled the courts testing my theories as far as I was able without a human to–”
“Sacrifice?” I suggested.
“Aid me. Several decades ago, I discovered an area of Tir o Haf that bears an unusual energy. Some strange power is woven into the air. Unnatural creatures dwell there, beasts that should not exist. I believe that is where we will find the princes, though I could only progress so far without you.”
Despite what Hyacinth had told me, I couldn’t quell the hope that the lost witches would be saved if I actually broke this God-damned curse. Maybe there was still time. Still a chance.
“Okay, that sounds promising,” I admitted. “Are we leaving after breakfast?”
Sage gave me a rare, sly smile, but Pansy darted to a console table, retrieving a cloth covered parcel from a stack of its fellows and handing it to me with a beaming smile. It was warm and soft.
“I assume you are able to eat and walk at the same time?” Sage asked. “This will not keep until after breakfast. Sisters, come.”
Talk broke out at once as the party divided into what I assumed were friend groups. While the witches retrieved the packs, I unwrapped my parcel. The suffocating stench of charred bacon escaped the folds, and my heart sank. Inside was a fluffy flatbread wrapped around bacon, eggs and some sort of salad.
“I don’t suppose there’s any without meat?” I called over the clamour of activity and conversation.
Sage stiffened, and though she had her back to me, I had no problem picturing the disapproval on her face. After a moment of rigid stillness, she whipped around. “Mother above! What’s wrong with the bacon?”
“Nothing, only… I’m a vegetarian. I don’t eat any meat.”
The witch shucked off her pack and rummaged inside one of its many compartments. She straightened, proffering a shiny, red apple. “Here.”
Hyacinth laid a placating hand on her arm. “Sister Sage… Aliza needs her strength. We can afford a small delay, and I’m certain the kitchens won’t mind making her a new breakfast. Besides, we will have to adjust our supplies if our human can’t eat meat.”
“Can’t, or won’t?” Sage muttered, rolling her eyes.
“Won’t,” I answered, my voice flat and cold. “Very definitely won’t.”
The witches needed me. I was essential to their mission, and if Sage wanted my help, she would have to play by at least some of my rules. I wouldn’t stoop to ending lives just to make her life easier. Neither would I accept judgement from someone lacking the slightest shred of compassion.
“Inform the kitchens,” Sage barked at nobody in particular.
One of the witches rushed away at her words, leaving the rest of us milling around with nothing to do but await our doom.