I pushed the heavy mahogany out of my way and delighted in the weak droplets of rain that bombarded my face with the gusts of night-time wind and took in the murky matte of gray cloud with disbelieving relief.
Everything had happened so fast I could hardly believe any of it was real. But all was well now.
I took a deep breath and fled into the cold, murky night, down the gravel road.
Chapter 5
The lights from the roadside inn looked inviting, but I pulled my cloak’s hood down lower, so that it covered my face, as I hurried past. I fully expected the King’s men to be riding in all directions looking for me already. Perhaps it was unlikely that regular people would have recognized me to be of any harm, but I didn’t want to take any chances.
I’d already torn off the hem of my dress, cringing as I did it, as the dress was Loreleine’s finest, but I’d promised myself to repay the dress as soon as possible. My cloak was my own, a worn, woollen one — a feast for moths. It had seen its better days, but it was thick and warm and covered me almost from head to toe. Now that the dress laces weren’t peeking underneath, I could have been any random peasant in anyone’s eyes.
One of the horses in the closure whinnied as I strode by. I wished I could have rented one of the horses to make the journey easier, but I didn’t have the means any more than the guts to show myself to the inn-keeper or the many, loud customers. Among them, there was bound to be someone who’d talk, and I couldn’t risk it.
I reached out my hand just to see if the mare came to see me, and was still surprised as she did, unhurriedly walking over. I stroked her head, and then she backed away peacefully, as if she had simply wanted to come say hi. Then I noted the royal emblem on the ribbons that had been woven into her braided mane.
Did that mean the king was here, or the king’s knights or soldiers?
The king had troops all over the land, sending his men out without cease, so this did not have to mean the king was already on my tracks, but it still made me skip a beat.
I turned to go again. It was a long way to the hut.
There were still six days until full moon, when the demon was supposed to come for me. I had six days to find a rock to hide under.
We’d see whether the wardens of my shag would hold. No people, not even hedge witches, had been able to find it; I felt confident I’d be safe, if I only made it to the shag and left no trail to find me by.
It had seemed so easy-going the other direction in Elsa’s comfortable carriage; now, the moon in the clear sky seemed to stare me down with scorn.
Chapter 6
When I had walked far enough for my feet to ache worse than ever in my life, a glow of light from the forest alerted me. I heard some bells, so I thought it had to be goat shepherds with a bonfire or suchlike. Perhaps they would be able to sell me a little something to eat? It was the dark of night. What would they see of me? I was a hag in rags sheltered by the twilight…And this far from the castle; what goat shepherds cared about news of the royal court?
I shadowed my face with my hood and stomped into the woods.
It wasn’t goat shepherds; it was a ring of circus carts lined up around a clearing. Inexplicably happy at the sight, I smiled to myself.
The circus carts stood under lantern-lit trees; colourful paper lanterns hung from the close-by trees’ branches. Warm light also spilt over from the windows of one of the carts, only one.
But then, if this was a travelling circus, there could be food carts? Circus cart food! Oh, joy! But it looked like I had come too late. Would someone still sell me a bite to eat?
Sudden laughter from the cart with the lights on made me stop in my tracks and stand still for a fraction of a moment, until I understood it had nothing to do with me and it wasn’t likely anyone could spot me in the dark. It made me hurry, anyway.
When I got closer, I it became clear all the other carts were silent. Oh, why had I let myself believe for a moment that there would be food stands, here? It was late. Who attended circus smack in the middle of the night? Late evening, maybe, but it was the dark of the night!
How I’d hoped I would find some late partiers and a bunch of wild and fantastic bohemian artists doing their down-to-earth make-believe magic, in the midst of scents of roasted chestnuts and sugar apples…Didn’t circus people perform in the evenings, arrange light shows, and then sleep all day; wasn’t that what they did? But no food carts, here, no scents of treats wafting, like I’d imagined. Perhaps the brief whiff I’d smelled had been someone warming up their dinner in one the carts.
As I turned to step past the lit-up cart to walk on the other side of it, to be better out of sight, should anyone walk out into the clearing, a bright flash of white light blinded me. It was so bright it robbed me of my sight momentarily. For long seconds, I saw nothing in the night. An alarmed-sounding yell made me duck and kneel, covering my head with my arms.
“Watch where you go, would you! I have delicate apparatus…priceless, hauled in from Paris! And these wenches keep almost tripping over it! Doesn’t anyone look where they’re going anymore? I thought we’d be rather safe here, but I guess not…” From the sound of it—his voice turned softer—he must have turned to soothe someone. “Not to worry, my charm, nothing’s broken, and all is well, all is absolutely wonderful.”
By now my eyes had accustomed a notch, after being blinded by that flash, and I could make out a tall man with a high hat and a monocle.
On a chair set outside beside the cart, between two bushy pot plants that spread out like fangs, sat a large lady in a gown and a decorative hat. Still weary, I glanced behind me, before I dared to proceed to stand up and brush myself off. I had just opened my mouth to ask about any chance to buy something to eat, when the man raised his hand, halting me.
“If you want your photograph taken, you must wait a moment. And for your information, I’m not sure I’m taking customers anymore, tonight. I know the sign’s still out there, but I just didn’t have a chance to take it down yet,” the man said, sounding disgruntled. “Ah, well, all right, then, since it’s still out there…You do know it’s not cheap fun? All the things I need for this, they cost money. People think it costs nothing to bring this sort of equipment all the way from Paris.”
“A photograph…? Is that what you’re doing?”
He must have thought I was slow, but I was shocked, that’s what I was. And famished.
Not to mention, I was super interested in all things half-magical that humans came up with that warranted the question, is it truly just a gimmick, or could it be true magic. I was endlessly fascinated with such mock magic.
This apparatus here was not glittering with magic sparks, though. Definitely no magic about it at all. Unfortunately, I could tell. I didn’t always spot all magic, of course, faintest glimmers, but I’d grown quite confident that I did have a sharp eye, perhaps almost like the full-blood fae…I sometimes liked to think so. But I couldn’t compare it to anything, since we didn’t know anyone to compare our skills to or anyone to ask.
“Yes, yes, we are taking her photograph. We are exploring the world of night-time portraits.”
“Oh! How fascinating.”
“If you must know,” the man added, but the scary frown was gone.
So, this strange-looking apparatus was a camera, then. I’d heard a lot about them, but never seen one. Cameras were a new fad, wildly fashionable in certain circles: noblesse, courtiers…My sisters had even seen cameras in action, but I’d only heard talk about them.
It had something to do with capturing light on paper, and people at court had asked my sisters to perform the magic on scraps of paper they’d brought. But Elsa claimed it couldn’t be done. Or at least, if it could, she wasn’t familiar with the spells. What you needed was this machine. And this man appeared to have one—how interesting. The thing looked like an oven on thin metal legs, a little black box haphazardly covered with a cloth.
“Listen,” the man said conversationally, as he c
oaxed me to come closer and join them. “I’m not easily shocked, and I’m not one to judge people. Comes with the life. You know…And the friendships I keep.” He gestured vaguely over the circus carts. “But I’ve always had this principle. Look in the eyes. Look past the clothes and scars and see what’s in a person’s eyes. That’s a principle I go by. I’ve noticed people with flaws and imperfections are often gold at heart, and I’m not fooled by looks…I want to see the soul of a person.”
I was busy nodding, when he made a calming gesture with his hand and added: “And like I said, I’m not easily shocked or moved. But you, if I may be so blunt…You don’t look too well.”
I opened my mouth in surprise.
“What are those spikes on your head, if I may ask?” He reached for one of the lanterns they’d been using for their photography and aimed the light directly at me.
I squinted my eyes to find him frowning concerned. He gestured towards the cart’s steps, apparently urging me to sit down. Baffled, I gathered my dress and sat.
“Daphne?” he said, turning to the woman. “Could you go get us a bit of that spiced red wine?”
The woman nodded briefly and, extremely carefully, made her way past me into the cart, only granting me a scared glance.
Chapter 7
My hand went again to my forehead. I couldn’t keep from feeling the stubs, as the gravel of the never-ending road murmured under my steps.
Horns. I had horns. For what devilish reason would the demon give me horns? Luckily, they were so small that I’d be able to hide them with hair-do’s, scarves, and a little imagination, but I was shivering, scared senseless down to my gut.
I halted, as I heard talking from the woods, rather close to the road. I’d only just left the circus carts, and I wanted nothing more to do with people for tonight, so I thought of going passing these people in silence. Except, I was still hungrier than a wolf pup, and the splash of red wine that the photographer and Daphne had offered me in a misshapen clay mug hadn’t been enough to fill my empty stomach.
There seemed to be a fire flickering between tree trunks. I stopped to listen. No yelling or anything threatening per se…So I walked closer. Then I heard them better, and my heart caught in my throat. It was the king and that witch, Rachel.
“At least we have a good excuse to catch her, now,” The king said, as if they were having an argument. “There’s our excuse, right there, and now we get to harvest a fae heart, so I say, hurray for curses.”
“But what will the sisters say? And their husbands? And all the relatives and everyone?”
“All they have to see is me throwing a witch criminal in the dungeon. What happens afterwards, once she’s behind walls, they don’t need to know.” The king laughed. “And has ever once a visitor been allowed into my dungeons to see who’s there and how they’re doing?”
Smug, the king beamed at Rachel, nodding his head as in, yes, you know it, we know it: no-one ever has.
Rachel hid her smile with her fingers over her mouth, gasping as if she were shocked. “Oh, you evil man! You are a genius, that’s what you are!”
“And you know what else,” the king said with all the more mirth.
“What, love, what?” went Rachel, all her intense focus on this ogreish man.
“I think Queen Marjorie just might have a nervous breakdown. Surely her nerves must be in tatters, and she’ll need to take some time to rest? I’ll send her to my summer palace in the countryside. She can’t object! People will think her cold if she doesn’t take this harshly. And let’s be frank, it’s quite obvious she is, so we’re not lying about that, are we, we’re only lying about the part where she wanted to travel to the summer palace by herself! But it’ll do her good. The woman is a walking ghost, that pathetic soul. Oh, and she can take the baby with, so we can have some peace and quiet.”
“Oh, good, good, I like the sound of that! But listen love. This is your baby daughter, and she is still quite sick. What if she doesn’t get well?” Rachel had some odd-sounding hesitation in her voice. “I mean, not that I care, but there are no good hospitals close by, who could treat injuries of magic spells—"
“Then Marjorie will ride back to the city. I’m sure the servants will help her.”
“But won’t people blame you for their ill health?”
“Why? The witch just cast the curse of death on them. I’m merely sending my family off to recover, like a good husband.”
Rachel seemed content at the answer, twirling a lock of hair around a long-clawed finger.
How could he! And her! The whole lot, these heartless monsters! I wanted to leap up and tell them straight, but knowing better, I backed away further into the shadows. They hadn’t seemed to notice a thing. The night was too dark, and they too deep in their vile fantasies.
I needed to tell Elsa and all my sisters. They’d be able to talk to their husbands and everyone. And if the king’s intentions were out in the open, the court would surely put an end to this? They wouldn’t risk sending Marjorie and the baby off to the countryside right away, out of reach of good physicians? Not before everything had been verified to be all right? Not if they knew that it wasn’t the Queen who wanted to go, but that the Kkng only wanted her out of his eyes and his way, never mind the risks? Rachel had that right. I wondered what was her motive to say such a thing. Perhaps she only worried that the king might never come to think about the issue, yet would later blame her? Oh, how this was ghastly.
And another thing. The whole court couldn’t be all right with tearing my heart out? No, surely not?…Could they?
Chapter 8
When I painfully limped the overgrown path into the unkempt garden of our old hide-away shag — home sweet home — I felt I could finally breathe out in the familiar, cozy safety of the only home I’d known.
Nowadays, the shag was weighed down by the magical spells we’d piled over the structures over the years, my sisters and I. Some of them were makeshift and haphazard, especially the ones on the bottom, our first spells, but the later layers were sturdy and fine, and I was quite proud of how robust and secure the shag was, how guarded against all evils. Even the door felt heavy to pull open, in my state, after walking that infernal distance, but I was so happy to step in that I gained some of my strength back.
Despite its measly, meager looks, in my eyes, this little shag was a fortress, and I inhaled deeply all the familiar scents and exhaled out all my stress.
Perhaps it was possible that I was even safe from the demon now? Perhaps the demon truly wouldn’t be able to find me here? What then? What would happen to the deal?
I couldn’t bring myself to think about it. My mind refused to work. Too tired to even eat anymore, I sat down on the floor, rolled back on the thick rugs, and let myself sink into the sweetest sleep.
When I woke up, I got out all my amulets and stones and set them out in the symbolic shapes and circles that felt right for the moment.
Almost too impatient to get them right — but I knew better than to mess with magic — I called up some powers and sent a message to my sisters, to catch from the ethereal air, whenever they would next tune into the magical realm. Hopefully, they soon would.
But would they ever do magic again, after all this? That thought worried me. Please let them be brave and still trust magic. There are good sides to it as well as bad; we’ve always known.
Home sweet home…But again, I felt alone.
After Victor left, for a few years, we had to be the happiest girls in the world. But little girls grow up, and it wasn’t all that long till Elsa went to study at the university — since they accepted females, nowadays — and she soon met Harry and got married, and we watched in awe.
Soon after, Lily snuck out, and we heard nothing of her for a few weeks, until we found out she was working at the stalls of an enormously wealthy estate, and she came to visit home, carried by a beautiful carriage, bringing with her several giant baskets of sweet pastries. At the stalls, she had caught the eye
of the duke’s son, Gabe. And what do you know, next thing we heard, there was a wedding announcement in the local newspaper — in print — and then they got married, and Lily was swept away in a whirlwind of a different way of life…and again, we watched in awe.
One by one, the girls left, some of them getting jobs in the city, some of them going to live with a friend, mostly just to be in the midst of the buzz of the city. Loreleine was now a skilled seamstress. Esmeralda a baker’s apprentice, master at decorating cakes. Turn after turn, their lives changed, and they all left, so in the end, I sat by myself in the little old shag by the crook with no name, miles and miles from human habitation. But I had a roof above my head and was used to this life, and didn’t see why I should move out or where I could go, for that matter.
At my age, in my late thirties, who would have given me a job worth having? Even though being fae-halflings, none of us girls actually visibly aged beyond twenty-five or so, but that didn’t matter; in the town everyone knew me because of my reputation as a healer. I was the healer lady — they had me in that role, in their minds. People used to come regularly to get help for their ailments. Even when I became a recluse, and was largely unkempt and uncaring for appearances, for a while they still came, but little by little, business withered.
They knew I was a witch. They knew me as a has-been. Somehow, the general consensus had changed under king John, and witches were thought to be evil. The court accepted my sisters, but they were talked of as ‘fae’…not witches.
Even when the sisters still lived at the shag, we’d lead a relatively secluded life, only occasionally meeting people at the market, when selling vegetables and herbs from our little crops, or some sowing work or jams or wicker baskets. This had been my way of life, and I saw the good aspects of it. It had its downside, but then, what didn’t? Why risk losing all this, too? I’d known what it was to hit rock bottom, and I’d already once climbed out of that bottomless pit and helped my sisters out of it, too, and we’d been all right. So, even then, I’d stayed, and had kept on living the same, safe life.
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