Chapter 21 #3
‘I was old enough to know better. I should have found Aunt Rowan. But she wasn’t at her cottage, so I kept running until I came to the village.
Old Mrs Campbell caught me right before I fell on my knees.
She must have been on her way back from the market.
She used to sell rabbit furs and peat bricks.
I was bleeding, scratched from Mother trying to catch me when I fled. I’m sure I looked like a wild thing.’
‘Darling girl.’
But Helena didn’t deserve her grief. She certainly didn’t deserve her sympathy. Whatever her mother had done to her was nothing compared to how Helena punished Willow.
‘Don’t.’ Anger grew. Not at Cynthia. But at herself. Grief, fear, and shame amalgamated into something dark and powerful. Sharp and hungry. ‘Don’t waste a single tear on me, Cynthia. I don’t deserve your comfort.’
Cynthia pulled back, stung by Helena’s brutal words. She shook her head, mahogany falling around her like autumn leaves in the forest. ‘You deserve so much more than comfort.’
‘I don’t. I’m the reason she died. It’s because of me the villagers swarmed my mother’s cottage, locked her inside with the blacksmith, and burned them to cinders. A firewitch consumed by mortal flames.’
Cynthia shook her head, her chin quivering. ‘How?’
‘Old Mrs Campbell saw my wounds. I told her about the love spells, and that I was scared of Mother. That I wanted my aunt. She ran back to the village, told the people dark witches were in our midst. They went to Mother’s house first. By then, Aunt Rowan and Uncle Lachlan realised they couldn’t save her.
Only Clio, Ellie and me, and only if they acted swiftly.
’ Helena wiped the tears she had not meant to shed and sniffed.
‘I’m a waterwitch. I own the rain clouds, the rivers, and the seas.
But I couldn’t call forth my witchwater to douse the flames. ’
‘You were just a child.’
‘I was seven. Old enough to have done something. And I tried, but my powers weren’t enough to stop the fire.’ Helena’s throat was raw.
‘You cannot blame yourself, Helena.’
‘It is my fault! I should never have told Old Mrs Campbell. I should have kept searching until I found Aunt Rowan. I betrayed my own mother.’
‘She betrayed you. She was using you.’
Helena knew this was true, but blaming herself was easier than accepting her mother’s treachery.
‘I always thought my gift as a waterwitch was a curse from the goddess. A reminder of how I failed. I can douse any flame with no more than a flick of my fingers, and yet when my mother screamed inside the inferno that had once been our home, my water turned to mist. I was completely useless.’ Helena gasped for breath as the sobs stole her words.
‘Helena, you were just as much a victim of their hatred as your mother.’
Cynthia’s soft comfort only increased Helena’s shame.
‘I’m a curse.’
A scratch on Cynthia’s door, followed by an insistent whine, diverted their attention.
Cynthia threw back the covers, padded to the door, and opened it to let in a desperate Hamlet.
He yipped, brushed past her as his tail briefly curled around her ankles, then hopped onto the bed and bumped his head against Helena’s in a foxy version of a hug.
Helena let her fingers dive into his soft fur.
Cynthia followed Hamlet and reclaimed her spot. The fox snuffled at the covers before circling and slumping down between them, his nose at Helena’s elbow, his tail at Cynthia’s feet.
‘Would Hamlet choose you as his familiar if you were so evil?’ Cynthia raised a dark brow. In the warming light, her skin looked like honey caught in dawn’s glory.
‘Perhaps he is trying to redeem me.’ Helena couldn’t stop herself from reaching out to pet her fox. His cold nose pressed against her wrist as she scratched between his ears.
‘So what do you propose? You told me I wasn’t to blame for Hubert’s crimes.
And though I can’t shake the shame of it, I’m endeavouring to do something about it.
What about you? Henceforth, should I call you Hexed Helena?
’ Cynthia ran her hand through Helena’s hair, winding a crimson curl around her finger and tugging gently.
‘Don’t be silly. Your mother abused you.
Most terribly. And the blacksmith she gave her heart to was not worthy of such a precious gift.
But the only curse here is believing history must repeat itself. ’
‘Don’t you see? That’s what I’m trying to avoid.
It’s why we can’t be two souls, intertwined.
I’ve seen you in the worst of times. The day your husband died.
In Sinclair’s office. Even facing off against Lippert.
You are light and hope and love, even in the darkest moments.
I won’t tangle you together with the evil of what I’ve done.
Of what I could become. When Lippert threatened you, I was a thought away from drowning him with my powers.
I would kill anyone who tried to hurt you.
That is not the way of a light witch. My mother’s blood runs through me.
Love twisted her into something cold and cruel.
I can’t risk becoming like that, Cynthia. I won’t.’