Chapter Thirty-Five #2
The Witch tilts her head at me. “Do you feel your time has been wasted, child?”
“No,” I say, without needing to think about it. “No, I don’t.”
The Warlock’s hard gaze meets mine but he says nothing.
“I admit, I feel as if I should reward the girl for figuring it out, and I do owe you for the burgoo,” the Witch says.
“So I’ll offer you a new deal, Knight. It is almost your birthday, after all.
I will let the boy stay here, cured and perfectly healthy, but you have to take his place to balance out the discrepancy. ”
“Or?”
“Or I can help you send the boy back to his place in time, before the solstice. You get to stay here, because he’s grounded once more in the past, where the memory of you belongs.”
“But either way, I lose him,” he says through gritted teeth.
“In a sense, yes. But don’t we all have to lose ourselves a little over time? That’s life.”
More silence.
He can’t seriously be considering her offer, can he? He is. He’s thinking about it. Don’t make the same mistake again! I want to scream. It’s the clear path in my head. But maybe it’s not so clear in his how he can learn to live with himself as he is.
At last, the Warlock gives me one last glance and faces the Widow Witch.
He attempts a deep breath, but his chest barely moves.
“You’re right, Okolona. I can’t undo my mistakes anymore.
” The low grit in his voice has lost some of its edge.
“But I can make a better choice now. I’ve already started.
It will take time and care, but I’m going to save your garden. ”
The Witch actually stutters. “Impossible. Your magic is gone, whatever help it gave your own plants—gone.”
He nods. “I’m doing it by hand. Small steps, first. Some seeds, warm-season plants and vegetables that will start strong. I’ll help refresh the soil, feed the land what it’s missing. You won’t see the benefit for a while. It’s the slow way. But the time is worth it.”
“It’s old. There’s no life left in it to bring back.”
“You’d be surprised how well an old thing can live if it gets a second chance.”
I’m awestruck. Proud.
“This wasn’t a part of your Farewitch’s bargain, Knight,” she sneers. “How does this benefit you?”
He manages a shrug. “Consider it a kindness, no price. I’ll show you how to maintain it, and we’ll work together when I visit. One season to the next. Those hounds shouldn’t be your only source of conversation.”
“No price?”
“One price,” I jump in. He might give away his effort for free, but not me. “On top of helping my mom and removing his curse, you have to stop terrorizing the Holler every spring. Or any season,” I add for good measure. “No more stealing folks, bad ones or not.”
What feels like an hour passes even though I know it’s just a few brief, crucial seconds. At last, she heaves a great sigh.
“All right, children. Agreed.”
My chest swells but I’m not sure I’m breathing, and my hands start to shake. I want to cry. Or laugh. Grab the Warlock and kiss him. Again. We did it.
“First of all, your”—the Witch glances at the Warlock’s fading skin, which has stretched from his fingers up along his wrists now—“corporeal predicament is because of the spell I used to bring the boy here. It’s not a curse. So you’ll need my spellwork to undo it.”
I slump back down in my seat. “What?”
She waves a hand at me, like she knows I’m about to raise hell. “Don’t insult me, children. I leave curse magic for other Witches. My magic is neither that simple nor fragile enough to break.” She sniffs. “Curses always start to smell, anyway.”
Somehow, the Warlock looks even more sickly. “Stop with the riddles, Okolona.”
“My spell simply created an imbalance, and there’s no cure for that except balance. The boy must go back to where he came from.”
The Warlock shakes his head. “Why in God’s name are you only telling me this now?”
She gives him a warning glance. “Why indeed?”
“Because this wouldn’t be hard to do a year ago,” I say. Now, the boy is more than just a figment or an idea. He’s become the Warlock’s heart and soul. He’s Lazlo.
The Witch nods. “After spending a year raising that boy, giving him up is not easy, is it? Your parents failed to respect the consequences of their choice. I want you to understand what you risk losing if you abuse magic. It’s as you said.
The second chance you want can only come from making a better choice than they did. ”
With surprising swiftness, she shuffles to a breadbox on the counter and returns with a slip of paper.
“You’ll have to complete the reversal spell yourselves, alongside the boy. Do it before the sun sets on your birthday, Knight, and you’ll see your next sunrise.”
“Will my power return then?” he asks.
“If you want it to, it will,” she hums. “Probably.”
Helpful.
“And how am I to perform this spell without any magic?” he retorts, but his usual pessimism doesn’t have any bite, the words slurring. I frown with concern.
“You don’t.” She hands over the spell—to me. “She does. This is a memory spell. It will find an errant soul and send it home. That boy is no more than a memory that needs to go home.”
My frown deepens. “I don’t understand. Incantations aren’t the kind of magic I do. I only see memories with food.”
She snorts. “And this spell needs someone with memory magic to recite it. It will work.”
“I’m just a Farewitch,” I protest. A pretty good one, I’ve realized, but surely there’s someone with more power, better suited for this job.
“Perhaps, child. But you’re the right Farewitch.”
After hesitating, I take the spell, the paper like a little white flag in my hands.
“However,” the Witch adds, “I can’t reverse what is happening to your mother.”
The ice in the corners of the cottage creeps in, dampening the already moldy space. My body tenses, like I’m freezing all over again as I wait for her to go on.
“What took your grandmother, now your mother—it’s no spell or curse.
All of us Witches must pay something for our magic, and your family seems to pay with your health.
Your best chance at helping her is with one of your recipes.
My advice for you is the same: Learn from her mistake before it’s too late for you. ”
For a brief moment, I drift outside my body, watch myself nod. I’m not surprised, though it still doesn’t hurt any less.
The Warlock places an invisible hand over mine. Squeezes with the gentle fingers of someone who handles the most delicate of tiny blooms. The only thing that keeps me from falling apart right here is the void of air where his forearm should be. He’s fading faster.
Outside, the hounds begin to howl.
The Witch looks to the window. “If you two are going to make it before tomorrow evening, you best get. Now. Don’t you dare ask me for a portal, Knight. Your tab is closed.”
“And if we don’t make it?”
“Then the world has one less grumpy old man.”
Said man lets out an indignant huff that’s closer to a growl.
I’m already in motion, packing our things. The task keeps me from thinking too hard about everything I stand to lose. But before I leave, I need to know.
“Why did you start disappearing spouses in the first place?” I ask as I tuck her spell safely into my pack. Her own great-granddaughter’s husband, too.
Feral delight sparks in her eyes. “I don’t go after partners, child.
I go after people who ask me to grant them their desires and then refuse to pay the cost for them.
The husbands you see disappearing are just men who have made poor deals with me.
Though, bad husbands don’t just go away, and divorce was shunned in my time.
Those nasty natural causes—men are so terrible at aging, aren’t they… ”
“Where did they all go?” I sputter. What did you do with them?
“Oh, they’ll find their way back eventually. Maybe.” She shrugs. “These days, it’s enough for me to just threaten the rotten ones. They run off on their own.”
“Then why let folks make all the awful rumors about you?”
“As life gets hard, folks want scapegoats. Bad choices, bad crops, bad kids? Must be bad magic. Blame the other, the different, the unexplainable. In this Holler, the misunderstood often turns into the legend. And the villain. It’s easier for folks to have someone to hate, child.
Brings them together. Why not the old Witch they already distrust? ”
The Warlock frowns. “You’re only feeding their fear, then, Okolona.”
“And you have family here. Gertha—” I protest.
“Oh, Gertie doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
“So—did you really kill her husband?”
“Heavens no. He was stepping out on her. She turned such a blind eye, she couldn’t see what she was worth. So I threatened him. Leave town or become one of my hounds. Gertie never forgave me.”
I’m starting to like the Widow Witch. Just a little.
Soon, we’re ready to leave. I’m carrying most of our gear because the Warlock needs to focus on staying upright. How we’re going to make it through those caves and back to the Manor in time, I have no idea. But we have to try.
“Your burgoo needs salt,” the old bat says instead of goodbye.
“No it doesn’t,” I say over my shoulder as we leave. The hounds watch us go with soulful eyes and some howling.
Just before we’re out of earshot, the Warlock turns one last time to the Witch. “I apologize, Okolona. For what it’s worth. I should not have assumed you were solely responsible for what happened to my parents.”
“Neither are you, boy,” she calls from her porch. “My problem was with your folks, not you. But if you’re ever going to forgive yourself, you have to forgive them, and you can’t do that until you understand people make bad decisions even if they’re not bad people.”