Dead Witch on a Bridge

by Gretchen Galway

  “How will I know?”

  “In a few minutes, if the short, ugly one tells you you’re hot, you’ll know it’s me.” He winked.

  “What if he doesn’t?”

  “Then I’ll have to disarm him the only way I know how,” Seth said.

  I looked at his bare hands, his high-top sneakers, his faded jeans and navy-blue sweatshirt. No fae of any kind could be taken by physical force, but he didn’t have any objects on him a witch would consider powerful enough to command an unwilling spirit—no silver, no gemstones. Not even an earring.

  “How?” I asked.

  “The Protectorate mistook me for a demon, right? There must be something dangerous I can do.”

  Squeezing my staff, I tried to pull on its power. Only a faint glimmer ran up my arm. “I just want to know why he ran over Tristan.”

  “And that little thing about almost killing you, not to mention the carpenter,” Seth added. “Come to think of it, you should stay here. His power won’t be as strong out of the water.”

  I focused on the path ahead, using my necklace now to concentrate on a thousand possible steps I could take, a blur of still images, almost all of them false, but I didn’t know which. I saw Seth and Launt embrace, I saw them jump into the water together and disappear, I saw a flash of light, I saw Launt scream in pain, I saw Seth scream in pain. I felt pain of my own. Most of the images were violent, but some were sweet, with Launt and Seth laughing together like long-lost brothers.

  “I’m coming,” I said. “You might need my help.” And I needed to see whatever happened for myself. A changeling and the human spirit he’d evicted, reuniting under a sliver of moon and afternoon sun—I needed to see such a sight for myself.

  The staff under my palm became warm, which was either a sign of impending danger or simply evidence my nervous hands were sweaty. I glanced at Seth, hoping he’d pull something out of his pocket like a shining sword inlayed with rubies, emeralds, and obsidian, but he only rubbed his hands together as if the cold wind off the coast was affecting his circulation.

  After only a few minutes’ walk, we turned a bend and saw the creek ahead of us, quiet and slow, its surface white in the sunlight and dull black under the trees. On our side of the creek was a narrow, sandy bank with a small figure sitting on it, his side to us and his bare feet in the water.

  He wore only a pair of children’s running shorts in lemon yellow with white stripes down the legs. His hair was a greenish brown, long and lank, shiny, slimy. His face and shoulders were green, but his belly was as white as a marshmallow.

  Now that I knew Launt’s fae body had once contained Seth’s spirit, I decided it was unusually hideous by any standard, human or fae. It smelled bad. It smelled wrong. Rotten, sour, dangerous. And while a fairy’s song should be lovely to hear, if a human was capable or invited to hear it, this fae’s voice was cruel and vicious. I had to hold the staff with both hands to stop myself from covering my ears as he sang a song about making babies bleed.

  “Regret not waiting at the car?” Seth asked me, sounding cheerful.

  “Do something, or I will,” I said.

  Seth looked over at me, glanced at the staff, and nodded. “You see him?”

  I paused. “Yes.”

  “He won’t expect that,” Seth said. “Use it to your advantage.”

  Launt was on his feet now, facing us. Still singing, which was terrifying.

  “Anytime now, SD.” I bent my knees slightly, preparing for battle. When they’d fired me, the Protectorate had mentioned my clumsiness in hand-to-hand combat, but neither of these supernatural brothers needed to know that.

  Seth held out his empty hands in the universal gesture of harmless greeting. His lips moved, but he made no sound I could hear.

  For the next minute, Seth continued to speak in the voice I couldn’t hear, and Launt continued to sing—unfortunately in a voice I heard only too well, and it was getting louder and louder.

  Eventually Seth shook his head and stopped talking. His face twisted with grief. The fairy, still murdering infants with his song, stepped backward into the creek until the water reached his knobby knees. His arms and legs were covered with red spots, and I could see green veins like a network of spiderwebs shining underneath his pale skin from head to toe. He shook his hair, sending water droplets flying, and took another step backward.

  I felt power growing between the two but didn’t know which one of them was sparking it. Seth stretched out his arms, and for an instant he looked like the vision I’d had of him embracing the estranged fairy-human—but then he brought his hands together in a single loud clap.

  The explosion knocked me to my knees. When I recovered enough to lift my head, bracing my weight on the staff to regain my feet, I saw Launt sinking below the surface of the water, his mouth and eyes wide with shock. When he went under, several large bubbles came to the surface and burst foul, yellow gas.

  And then Seth fell facedown in the sandy mud, his arms beneath him.

  “Seth!” As I stumbled over to him, I sent out my power to feel for his heartbeat, the pumping of his lungs, the magic in every cell of his stolen body.

  I crouched down and looked for a safe place to touch him. If the magic was still active, I could be hurt by the contact, but…

  Oh hell, I would take the risk. I put both hands on his shoulders and rolled him over to his back. His complexion was ashen and his eyes were closed, but I found a pulse at his throat.

  I looked behind me at the creek, searching for Launt. If he was lake fae, I had no chance of finding him here. He could live under the surface indefinitely or float the short distance to the ocean.

  “Seth,” I said again. “I don’t know if I can carry you. I need to get you to a friend of mine. He’s better at healing than I am.”

  Seth’s eyelids fluttered open, but his gaze was unfocused. “What happened?”

  “You clapped and then everyone fell down,” I said.

  “Launt?”

  “Gone. Under the water.”

  He closed his eyes. “Whoops.”

  “Changelings say ‘whoops’?”

  He started to speak but had to cough first. Then said, “From… Minnesota.”

  “So you keep saying. You’re very proud of that, aren’t you?”

  He managed a weak grin. “Are my fingers missing? Because it feels like they’re missing.”

  I checked. “They’re where they should be.” I worked my arm under his back to help him up. “Come on. I can’t carry you to the car by myself.”

  “You can do a lot more than you know,” he said.

  “You’re only saying that because you’re too lazy to walk.”

  “Don’t you want to hold my defenseless body? You could do whatever you wanted to me right now, and I’d have to let you.”

  “Save your energy for walking,” I said.

  He chuckled, but his eyes were closed, and I had to support most of his weight to get him to his feet.

  “I’d tell you to leave me here, but then Launt might hurt you,” he mumbled.

  “He looked in pretty bad shape himself when he went under.”

  Seth coughed, turned his head to the side, and spat a mouthful of blood. “That explains a little,” he whispered.

  “What?”

  He shook his head. “Need to focus. Walking.”

  It took us ten minutes to reach the car. Every few steps he had to stop, cough, spit, and offer to be my boyfriend again. Random was sticking his head out the window, watching for us, and jumped out and ran over in spite of Seth’s feeble commands to stay in the car. I already half believed Random was his dog and didn’t try to interfere in their reunion.

  “Easy, buddy,” Seth said, too weak to stop Random from jumping up on him.

  “Sit,” I said.

  Seth leaned against the Jeep. “I’ll wait until I get in the car. I’m not sure I can”—he coughed, spat—“get up again.”

  I opened the passenger door, dragged a fra
ntic Random into the back seat, and helped Seth climb in. When I was finally behind the wheel, I asked, “What happened to you?”

  Seth leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. “Not good.”

  “I can see that. But was Launt able to do this to you? How could a lake fairy—”

  “What I’m feeling, he’s feeling,” Seth said. “I think.”

  I backed out of our narrow parking spot in the dirt and headed for the road home. Heavier fog had rolled in, reducing the daylight, erasing shadows. The drive through the trees was a flat, dim gray. I turned on the heater and headlights.

  “Did your spell reflect back on you because you’re bonded?” I asked.

  “I don’t use spells,” he said. “I’m not a witch.”

  “I don’t understand what you are.”

  “The first step on the path to truth is to learn what you do not know,” he said.

  The Protectorate had taught me demons were liars who could convince people of anything. His claim to being a changeling could be a clever trick that preyed upon my desire to uncover secrets. As Helen had said, I coveted knowledge.

  “What I don’t know is why I’m helping you,” I said. “I should’ve driven that spike into your heart that night. Right now I’d be sitting in a nice, cozy condo in Pacific Heights, watching sailboats floating on the bay, telling my app to get me takeout dim sum.”

  When he didn’t reply, I looked at him. His head had slumped to one side, tilted back too far, and his mouth was open.

  “Seth,” I said loudly, grabbing his knee. “I don’t mean it. Stay with me.”

  Without moving his head, he mumbled, “Aren’t you clingy.”

  Random was trying to climb into the front seat to lick Seth to death, and I was tempted to help him do it. The death part, not the licking. I wished I’d never met him.

  But who else was going to help me understand what was going on? Jasper had asked me to leave him out of it.

  Well, too bad for Jasper, because he was going to have to help me now, like it or not. He had that potion in his kitchen that had helped me so much; maybe it could help a demon. Or a changeling. Whatever he was.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Before hitting Silverpool’s shopping district, I turned left on the road to Jasper’s house. If the wellspring had been in season, I might’ve risked running down the ravine for a drop of the water to help Seth. But with it dry and the spells triggered the last time I’d visited, it wasn’t worth the risk. Thinking Seth was a demon, the Protectorate spells would be much worse the second time around.

  And Seth didn’t look like he was up for much of a fight. His skin was ashen and shiny, and his breath rattled. The coughing came more frequently now, and he’d bloodied the rag I kept in the car for wiping the morning condensation off the mirrors and windows.

  It was worth the risk of telling Jasper about him. As an independent witch, he was under no magical obligation to kill dangerous supernatural creatures. Moral and social, possibly, as were all normal people. But Jasper was an independent thinker.

  “Where—” Seth began, cracking open an eye.

  “Witch friend,” I said.

  “No, no, no,” Seth said. He bent over, coughing.

  “We’ll just—” I drove up the hill, turned, and saw Jasper’s cottage under the trees.

  And Phoebe’s car in his driveway.

  I braked so suddenly Random stumbled over the center console and head-butted my elbow. Throwing the Jeep in reverse, I drew upon my power for a quick hiding spell. It would only work if they weren’t watching for visitors.

  What was she doing at Jasper’s?

  “What’s going on?” Seth asked.

  I turned the Jeep around as quickly but silently as possible, focusing on hiding the roar of the engine and the bumping of its knobby wheels in the potholes. When I was headed downhill, I put one hand on my necklace to strengthen the spell.

  Seth waited a few minutes before speaking again. “Fae? A lot of them around that place.”

  “Witch,” I said. “A young agent from the Protectorate who is not my friend.”

  “With someone who is?”

  “Yes. But it looks like she’s with him at the moment. He doesn’t know anything about the torc or Protectorate politics, but… she’s got it in for me.”

  “The torc?”

  Under stress, I’d forgotten I wasn’t going to tell him about that. “Something they think my father stole.”

  “Ah—” His words were interrupted by another coughing fit.

  Jasper talked bitterly about the Protectorate, but hadn’t he wished he’d been an agent? Was it all just sour grapes?

  My instincts told me that if Phoebe offered him a way in, Jasper would jump at the chance to fulfill an old dream he was too ashamed to admit he still had.

  Had she already made him an offer?

  It was only another few minutes to my house. When I parked in the driveway, I kept an eye on Seth to see if the fortress of protective spells were hurting him, but because he was already in such bad shape, I couldn’t tell. If I kept my hand on him, guiding him through my property myself, the magic should welcome him inside.

  Should.

  Luckily Willy wasn’t near his tree when I helped Seth into the backyard and up the steps to my kitchen door. Instinct told me they wouldn’t like each other at all. Loyal domestic gnome and changeling… No, that felt like ancient animosity brew to me.

  Seth staggered over the threshold, throwing the bloody rag at the new gargoyle I’d set behind the recycling bin, whether by intention or accident I wasn’t sure, and then into the living room.

  “Let me rest here,” he said, sprawling on the sofa. “I’ll be fine. I just need—”

  I ran to the bathroom to get him an old towel to bleed on. My furniture wasn’t fancy, but it was all I had.

  While he coughed his guts out, my worry intensified.

  “I have some herbal tea,” I began.

  He swore, rolling his eyes.

  “It’s from a witch in San Francisco who really knows her stuff,” I said.

  “Useless,” he gasped. “On me. For… this.”

  “For what? What happened to you?”

  He smiled blearily. “I stole a human body and then harmed my true one.”

  “So it’s what, bad karma?”

  He turned serious. “Exactly. That’s exactly what it is. You understand.”

  I didn’t understand anything, but I could see he didn’t have much time. The signs of demon death, so eagerly sought by the avenging Protectorate agent, were all present: waxy complexion, perspiration, bloody cough, muscle weakness.

  “For a changeling, you sure look like a sick demon,” I said.

  “Possession,” he gasped. “Same costs.”

  I hurried to my file cabinet and opened the bottom drawer. Breaking through my own guardian spells took a minute I might not have had; I heard Seth’s coughs growing weaker.

  But as soon as I pulled out the vial of wellspring water, he sat up and began to protest with renewed energy.

  “No,” he said. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  He closed his eyes. “Addictive personality,” he said weakly. “Dangerous.”

  “It’s that or die,” I said. “What’s it going to be?”

  He let out a long sigh. After a moment, he lifted his head. “Fine.”

  “I’ll just give you a little,” I said, tipping the vial onto my fingertip and then pressing my finger to his lips.

  With a shudder, he licked the drop off my skin. There was nothing pleasurable about it for either of us. Wellspring water captured the fae’s attention like nothing else on earth. The Protectorate believed demons were drawn to wellsprings because it made the fae vulnerable, easy to catch, consume, destroy.

  He sat up and wiped the sweat off his brow. “Please put the rest of that poison away.”

  I corked the vial and held it behind my back. “Are you all right now?”


  The color had returned to his cheeks, and his lips were no longer thin and cracked. “If you don’t put the springwater someplace secure, I’ll rip you apart to get it.”

  I’d heard Seth make a lot of jokes, and that didn’t sound like one of them.

  I put the vial away. And locked the cabinet with every spell I could remember off the top of my head and a few I made up on the spot.

  “I swore never to touch the stuff,” he said.

  “To yourself?”

  “To my fae mother.” He was looking better every second. The sparkle was back in his eyes, which wasn’t a good thing. “She had other plans for me, like mating with a nice human girl such as yourself.”

  Against my will, I shuddered. Something about the thought of a water fae thousands of miles away stealing human bodies for breeding made me want to reopen the cabinet, take out the iron spike I’d kept as a memento, and drive it through his skull.

  “I was just kidding,” he said. “Don’t look so disgusted.”

  “Don’t be so disgusting.” I sat on the floor and took a moment to catch my breath. Seth wasn’t going to die anytime soon, but Launt was free or dead. “Could Launt have killed Tristan?”

  Seth paused. “No. He’s working for somebody else.”

  “What? The fae are organized like that?”

  “No, they are not. Not yet, anyway.”

  “Demons?” I asked.

  “Please. Demons rather liked Tristan. He made deals with them sometimes. Not a bad witch, really.”

  “I thought you hated him.”

  He grinned. “Personal reasons. Not professional.”

  “Did you kill him?”

  “It’s interesting you asked me that question after you saved my life.”

  “I asked you before, too. You didn’t answer. I kept you alive so I can get the truth out of you.”

  “The truth,” Seth said. He opened his mouth and froze, eyes widening. “You’ve got some good magic in here. I just tried to lie to you, and I couldn’t.”

  “Why should I believe that?” I asked. “You could just be saying that so I swallow the lie you feed me next.”

  He chuckled and got to his feet, smiling at me with blood-spattered lips. “You’re cute when you’re smart.”