Chapter 19 #2
“I don’t have breeches in them,” I protested, tugging at my satchel strap. I squinted over the fence and caught a glimpse of pale legs as Maddox stepped awkwardly into the petticoat. The rest, thankfully, was covered by his shirt. I slapped a hand over my eyes. “Hurry and dress.”
Maddox groaned. “How does this thing work?”
“There are tapes you tie on the sides. Mind the pocket slits. I doubt your grandparents would like to see your pasty upper thighs.”
“Do not mention my grandparents and my thighs in the same sentence!”
The upper window of the cottage swung open with an ear-splitting screech. “What in the blazing fires is all this commotion?” A sharp old woman stuck her head out along with a green witchlight lantern, her gaze zeroing in on Maddox. “Boy in the skirt! You’re trespassing!”
Maddox whirled to me, his face panicked, but I only shrugged. He turned back again to the old woman on the second-floor window.
“A-are you Maude Greenwood, madam?” he asked.
“Who’s asking?” the woman said.
“I’m Maddox. Your grandson.”
It was silent for a spell.
I took the opportunity to step forward. “We’re here to ask about the weather.”
She retreated from the window and after a moment, the front door opened.
Maude Greenwood was a small, bony woman with sharp shoulders and pinched lips.
If it weren’t for her stormy gray eyes, I wouldn’t have noted any resemblance to Maddox or the good-humored Captain Greenwood at all.
She lifted her green lantern high in the air, throwing light on Maddox in my too-short and very transparent petticoat. I shaded my eyes.
Maude squinted at me. “Aren’t you Nasha’s eldest?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied.
“Your Ma is a poisonous gossip who needs to learn to mind her own business,” she snapped.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said.
Maude turned her assessing glare to Maddox. “So. You’re my grandson?”
He stood straighter. “Yes. Father never told me about—”
“Maverick was an ungrateful brat,” Maude snapped.
Maddox gave an uncomfortable laugh, but there wasn’t any humor in Maude’s eyes.
I bit my lip, suddenly regretting telling him about his relationship with this witch.
Chrissy had said that the Greenwoods were reclusive, but I didn’t pay it any mind.
Perhaps it would’ve been kinder to him if he hadn’t known they existed at all.
“We were wondering about the weather,” I cut in. “What happened?”
“My husband died,” Maude said shortly.
Maddox’s eyes widened. “I’m sor—”
“He has died,” Maude continued, “a very miserable death. For years he had toiled away at a thankless job that no other witch wants to do.”
There were eight weather witches total, two in each tower, each specializing in an aspect of weather such as light, temperature, air circulation, humidity, and atmosphere.
If the late Mr. Greenwood was in charge of light, that would explain the blackout.
A witch’s enchantments ceased to exist after death.
“Pardon, but aren’t you also a weather witch?” I asked carefully. “Don’t you have an apprentice?” If Maude or an apprentice could take on the job, there was no reason why we still had to suffer a blackout.
“My apprentice was my son until he took off,” she said sharply.
“It is exceedingly selfish for him to abandon his duties after all we elders did to build this village from scratch. Why should I continue my duties if no one in your generation wants to?” Maude scowled at me.
“You’re just like him, aren’t you? Why have you come back?
Have you finally realized that our kind has no place up there? ”
I bristled. A million retorts came at once, along with a nagging sense of guilt that I couldn’t seem to reason away.
“That’s not true,” Maddox said, finding his voice once more. “Giselle has—”
“It’s fine, Maddox. We should go,” I said. Clearly the woman was too bitter to care about anyone’s concerns. We were better off asking the other weather witches.
A loud creak sounded from my left. A neighbor’s window had cracked open. Another creaked from my right. I endeavored not to make eye contact with anyone.
Maddox didn’t budge. “Maude...grandmother. If you want, you can come aboveground with us. Father will be glad to see you.”
“Glad to see me?” Maude said with an incredulous laugh. “I doubt it. I disowned him the moment he removed his magic. He has done very poorly up there, hasn’t he?”
Maddox looked taken aback.
“Evidently he has spawned,” she said, looking at Maddox in disgust. “But I don’t suppose you would be here if your situation aboveground was at all palatable.”
Maddox stiffened his shoulders. It seemed that his hopes of finding a sweet old grandmother had finally dissolved. “My father is the Captain of the Royal Guard. We live very well.”
Maude’s gloating eyes turned beady and resentful. I was beginning to understand why Ma never spoke of the Greenwoods. If Maude’s husband was anything like her, they were both too horrible to even gossip about.
She sneered. “The last thing I want is a spoiled little human boy with a questionable taste in fashion as a grandson.”
Quiet gasps came from the windows on either side of the street.
“I’ll have you know that is my petticoat!” I shouted over the fence. “And Maddox looks far better in skirts than you ever will, you old crone!”
Murmurs of agreement came from the neighbors.
“Maddox, let’s go,” I said, waving him over.
Maude sniffed and swept back into her cottage. “Get off my property,” she said, then slammed the door behind her.
Maddox turned around, but instead of a victorious smile on his face, he looked stricken.
My own grin faded. He walked slowly through the fence.
I reckoned he completely forgot he was wearing a petticoat before a kindly witch woman stepped out of a neighboring house and offered him a pair of breeches.
She appeared on the cusp of middle-aged, though there was still a youthful glow to her cheeks.
“Don’t you listen to a word she says,” the witch, who introduced herself as Briony, said as Maddox stepped behind a bush to change.
I stood idly outside of Briony’s house as she continued.
“That Maude always had a poisonous mouth, even to her own husband. I always felt bad for poor Manuel. Their marriage of convenience was ill-suited.”
“Marriage of convenience?” Maddox asked from behind the bush.
“They were both weather witches,” Briony explained.
“When they took on the responsibility of lighting the village, they figured they ought to marry, as there’d be a better chance their progeny would have the same magic and take on the mantle after they passed.
Back in those days, the longevity of Witch Village took precedence over everything else. ”
This idea wasn’t new to me. Childbirth was rare compared to abovegrounders, as witches were mindful of the limited space in the village.
The children that were born were expected to take on a role that kept the village running.
Many family lines began unromantically; perhaps that was why witch children like Seraphina Barclay and Maddox’s father were so shunned.
They chose themselves over the village. Yet, even when times had changed and witches were no longer forced to stay in Witch Village, this mindset had yet to disappear.
Maddox emerged from the bush with new breeches. “But, what about my grandfather?” he asked faintly. “Was there a funeral? We can’t just...leave him there.”
“Ah. Nothing gruesome. We witches are spelled to dust after death; it is typically a private affair,” Briony said with a nod. “Clean and efficient.”
Yet another custom meant to conserve space. Learning that humans buried their dead in large expanses of land was rather a shock when I came aboveground.
“Anyhow, I’m glad to hear your father is doing well for himself, despite everything.” Briony gave him a sympathetic smile. “Don’t let Maude get to you.”
Maddox managed a nod. Once we said goodbye, we headed back down the trail.
After some time of silence, he said, “Father never told me he was disowned.”
I wasn’t sure what to say, so I was thankful the darkness concealed our expressions. “Seems like every witch who left Witch Village ended up with some misfortune or other,” I murmured.
Seraphina Barclay ended up dead. At least Captain Greenwood wasn’t dead.
Maddox said nothing. Our footsteps weren’t nearly loud enough to fill the silence. I scuffed the dirt road with my boots.
“You know, you shouldn’t even be upset,” I said. “Your grandmother may be awful, but everyone has at least one awful family member. You can just pretend she doesn’t exist.”
My house was in sight now, but Maddox stopped. “Is that all you have to say?”
I was surprised by the hurt in his voice. I laughed uncomfortably. “What? It’s not that serious, Maddox.”
“Then I suppose my problems are nonexistent compared to yours.”
I blinked. “I never said that.”
He stepped back, as if to better assess me. “You’ve never once taken my concerns seriously.”
My neck prickled and I felt heat rising to my cheeks. “You’re putting words in my mouth.”
“Sometimes it’s like you don’t even pay attention to anyone else. All you care about are your own problems.”
If there was one thing I couldn’t stand, it was being called selfish.
Heat rose to my face, burning my ears. Was it shame?
Guilt? Indignation? I didn’t care. Why shouldn’t I be selfish?
I was the one who was struggling to keep a failing shop open, with a mother who disliked me as much as she didn’t believe in me.
The consequences of my failure were far greater than Maddox’s.
“You want me to pay attention? Fine,” I snapped. “You’re a spoiled nobleman’s son who wants so badly to have problems of your own so you make not being able to meet your father’s expectations your entire personality!”
The words left me before I could think. We had bickered before, but never like this. Maddox’s expression grew pained, then angry. It was hard to believe that moments ago, I had defended him so wholeheartedly.
Instead of yelling back, Maddox only shook his head. “There it is,” he said quietly.
The walk home after that felt even worse than the one with Ma.