13 Curses

by Michelle Harrison

Eldritch was sweating heavily now. His skin looked waxy and his black hair hung in a greasy curtain around his face. “I didn’t take it,” he said at last. “It wasn’t me.”

  “Not good enough.” Stitch reached out and tugged the chain attached to Eldritch’s wrist. Eldritch screamed as the iron cut into his skin. He fell against the dungeon wall, writhing.

  “I didn’t take it,” he repeated at last, through gritted teeth.

  Red reached for the chain again and Eldritch flinched.

  “It’s the truth!” he whined. “Someone gave it to me.”

  Red regarded him coldly. “Who?”

  He stared into his lap. “Knowing won’t do you any good.”

  “I’ll decide that. Who was it?”

  “He was my traveling companion.” Eldritch jerked his head into the darkened corner of the dungeon—as he had done only yesterday. “He’s over there, like I told you.”

  Red and Stitch scanned the dark recesses of the cellar. Several shapes littered it—the Hedgewitch included. All were in varying states of decay.

  “He’s one of the dead?” said Stitch.

  “Correct,” said Eldritch, leaning his head back against the wall.

  “Was he the one who took my brother?”

  Eldritch shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything!”

  “Yes, you do,” said Red. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have tried to lie about the book. You know something, all right.” She stood up and slowly walked over to the figure that was slumped forward, manacled to the wall just as Eldritch was. Clenching her jaw, Red grabbed a handful of the long hair covering the face, tilting the head back. To her horror and revulsion, the hair came away in her hand and, as the head shifted, she saw that it was no longer recognizable. She released it, letting the hair drop to the ground, and roughly wiped her hand on her trousers. Bending down, she began to go through the clothing.

  “What are you looking for?” asked Stitch.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Anything… some kind of clue.”

  “You won’t find anything,” said Eldritch. “The Hedgewitch would have taken anything of value from him.”

  Suddenly Red spied something glinting in the faint glow from above. She reached out for it.

  “What is it?” Stitch asked. “Have you found something?”

  “A ring,” said Red. She turned the body’s decaying hand over and the ring rattled free and fell into her hand. “Why didn’t the Hedgewitch take this from him?”

  “It was stuck on his finger,” Eldritch answered. “It… it became welded to his skin one night in an… accident.”

  Red felt herself growing cold as she turned the ring over in her hand. It was silver and chunky, with a smooth black stone at its center. Carved into the stone was a pair of wings. She recognized it immediately… the image was seared into her mind. Forcing away her revulsion, she ran her hand over the shoulder blades of the body. Through the clothing she felt two bumps—stumps of where wings had once been. She stood up and strode back to where Eldritch and Stitch were.

  “I’ve seen this ring before,” she said quietly. “Only once, but I’ll never forget it. It was worn by the fairy who took my brother. And I had a feeling about you, Eldritch. I knew you weren’t to be trusted.” She knelt before him once more. “We’ve met before.”

  Eldritch looked as though Red were the Hedgewitch herself. He looked terrified.

  “I haven’t seen you before!” he protested, but the lie was wasted upon her.

  “Yes, you have. Only I had red hair back then. Long, red hair. Now do you remember?”

  “I don’t!” Eldritch sniveled, starting to weep now. “I don’t remember you!”

  “Then perhaps you’ll remember this!”

  She swiveled around, and with her left hand reached up to pull down the neck of her top.

  “Does this look familiar?” she snarled.

  But Eldritch refused to look, cowering into his knees with his face hidden. She could sense Stitch, however, staring at the back of her neck in horror.

  “If you won’t look, then let me describe it to you,” she said, turning back around. “It’s a burn, branded into the back of my neck, and it’s in the shape of fairy wings—the same fairy wings that appear on this ring. The ring became stuck to his hand when he was burning me—and his own wings caught fire. It was the only reason he stopped!”

  Eldritch looked up then. “He burned lots of people. Anyone who crossed him—it was his signature. You were the only one who burned him back somehow. He lost the power after that. You did something to him… just like you did something to the Hedgewitch!”

  Stitch’s eyes bored into Eldritch.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked suddenly. “You didn’t just fall foul of the Hedgewitch by chance, did you? You and your companion knew too much for that, and you were too powerful. You were here for a reason. There’s no evidence upstairs to suggest she caught fairies for her glamours—only humans.”

  Eldritch hesitated, then nodded. “We did business with her sometimes. Nothing too serious,” he put in hastily. “Just plants from afar, and things from the human world. Animals, if we could get them. She was always after fresh stock. Snatcher—my companion—traded with her for curses to repay those who crossed him after he lost his burning ability. It all worked well enough until she gave him a curse on condition that he would repay her later—he didn’t have anything valuable enough to trade at the time.

  “The price was one hundred four-leafed clovers or primroses—both valuable to fairy magic, and rare. It took us many moons to find enough on our travels. Eventually we did. But Snatcher was greedy. On our way here to deliver the goods, he had the idea to pretend we’d been robbed and lost most of them, in order to keep half for ourselves and sell them at a later date. He thought he could fool the Hedgewitch and that her pity would prompt her to disregard the rest of the bargain. He was wrong. She pretended to go along with it at first, even offering us wine after our ordeal. The next thing I knew we were both here, in iron manacles—powerless. She told us that if we hadn’t the goods to pay for the curse Snatcher took, then we’d pay with ourselves.”

  “Forgive me if I can’t feel sorry for you,” Red interrupted sarcastically. “Now, where’s my brother?”

  “I don’t know where he is. I never got involved with all that.”

  “All what?”

  “The changeling trade. I’ve never been part of it, I swear to you.”

  “Knowing about it makes you involved,” said Stitch, his voice full of disgust.

  “Yes, I knew about it,” Eldritch hissed. “But I never stole any children, even though…”

  “ ‘Even though’ what?” Red shouted. Her fingers twitched at her sides. It was all she could do not to strike the despicable creature before her.

  “Even though I was tempted,” he finished. “The money’s good. And the connections are… better. But I never did. I kept out of it. I saw things, though, and heard things. The one with the book sticks in my mind. Snatcher had been watching the child for days, a little golden-headed boy he was.”

  “That’s right,” Red whispered.

  “He bragged about it—it was an easy target, he said. A children’s home… no parents around to notice the differences between the children who were taken and their replacements. And the first few he got away with easily. But the golden-headed child was proving a challenge. He had an older sister who clearly had the second sight and could see what was going on. She wouldn’t let him out of her sight, and even found ways to ward off the fey. So Snatcher waited, knowing that one day there would be a mistake that would allow him to take the child. And it was only a matter of time before he was right.”

  “I didn’t make a mistake that night,” Red murmured. “Something went wrong….”

  “The book he only took as an afterthought,” Eldritch continued. “He saw the word ‘fairy’ in the title. It amused him, so he took it. Later, when he realized that there wer
e no fairies in the book at all, he no longer wanted it. I liked it though, so he traded it to me.”

  “Where’s the child now?” Stitch asked.

  Eldritch shook his head. “That I can’t tell you.” His eyes widened in terror as Stitch reached for the chain once more. “Please!” he cried. “I’m telling the truth! I don’t know—he never told me what he did with them, and I never asked. He mentioned a meeting with a fey woman—I don’t know who! But I’ll help you—I’ll help you look for him. Just… just get me out of here… out of these chains….”

  “I believe you,” said Stitch shortly. “The problem is, we can’t find the key, and Red and I can’t wait around. So I’ll give you a choice. You can either stay here and take your chances or I can get you out… but it won’t be pretty.”

  “What do you mean?” Eldritch croaked.

  By way of reply, Stitch drew back his long overcoat, revealing the hilt of his dagger.

  Eldritch pushed himself back against the wall.

  “Oh, no… oh, no, no…”

  “Forget it,” said Red. “He’s not coming with us. He’s not going anywhere. He’s a worthless coward.”

  “What?” Eldritch’s voice rose in terror. “I’ll help you find your brother, I swear—”

  “You were there the night I was burned. You hid your face in your hood while those wings were branded into my skin, and you did nothing.”

  “But I wasn’t the one who branded you!” he cried. “It wasn’t me!”

  “No,” Red roared. “But you could have stopped it. And you did nothing! You knew about the children being stolen. And what did you do? NOTHING! So now I’m going to repay the favor.” She leapt to her feet and plunged her hand into her pocket until her fingers met with something small and cool to the touch, which she held aloft.

  “The key!” Eldritch gasped. “You had it all along!”

  “It was exactly where the Hedgewitch said it would be. And now it’s coming with me, and you’re staying here. Because now you’re going to know what it feels like to need help and the only person who can help you does… nothing.” She turned her eyes on Stitch, shoving the key back into her pocket. “Let’s go.”

  “No!” Eldritch yelled. “No, wait! Please! Don’t leave me here!”

  But Red was already on the steps leading up to the cottage, with Stitch close on her heels. When they reached the top, Red turned back to stare into the dungeon for the last time. Eldritch’s face twisted into a snarl like a rabid dog—his pretenses gone at last.

  “You’ll regret this, girl!” he growled. “I’m going to get out of here, and when I do, I’ll track you down and make you pay for this!”

  Red stared back at him, her emerald eyes clouded with hatred.

  “I don’t think so.”

  With that she slammed the trapdoor shut, and then she and Stitch collected their belongings and exited the cottage with Eldritch’s cries ringing in their ears.

  Florence hurried Morag and Nell into the kitchen and fetched warm, dry blankets for them both. As Morag hobbled across the threshold into the house, Fabian made a face and tried to catch Tanya’s eye, but she refused to get caught up in his superstitious fear of the old gypsy woman.

  “Nell, where on earth have you been?” Florence cried. “We’ve been worried sick!”

  “And where’s my dad?” Fabian asked. “What’s happened to him?”

  Nell looked at them, eyes wide with shock.

  “They took him,” she said.

  “Who did?” Tanya asked carefully.

  Nell refused to meet her eyes, and in that instant, Tanya knew that she was too afraid to relate her experience.

  “It’s all right, Nell,” she said. “You can tell us.”

  Nell wrung her hands together and shook her head. “I can’t. You won’t believe me. You’ll think I’m crackers.”

  “I think we should all sit down,” said Florence.

  Everyone sat, except for Florence, who set about brewing a fresh pot of tea. Tanya got up and started to help, but nerves made her jittery, and after she’d broken a saucer Florence told her to sit down. The tea was poured in silence.

  Morag sipped at her tea, nodding appreciatively. Tanya wondered when the last time was that the old gypsy woman had had a cup of tea made for her. She lived a lonely life, out in the woods where no one would bother her.

  “I… oh, hello again,” said Morag, her birdlike eyes noticing Tanya properly for the first time. “I didn’t know you lived here.”

  “Tanya is my granddaughter,” said Florence in surprise. “I was unaware that you knew each other.”

  “We’ve met,” said Morag with a twinkle in her eye.

  “In Tickey End,” Tanya added, keen to shield her grandmother from the true extent of her disobedience in the summer. Her visit to the gypsy woman’s caravan was something she had only shared with Fabian.

  Morag nodded her agreement, much to Tanya’s relief. Her secret was safe.

  “Where did you find Nell?” she asked.

  Morag drained the rest of her tea in a single gulp and glanced surreptitiously at the teapot. Florence dutifully leaned over and refilled her cup. The old woman beamed.

  “She was in the woods. Came knocking on my door, in a dreadful muddle.” She paused to give Oberon a pat; he had rested his large brown head on her knee and was sniffing at her many layers of clothing with interest. “I could see she was disoriented and exhausted. She could barely walk.”

  A deep line had appeared in Florence’s forehead.

  “Nell, you have to tell us what happened,” she insisted.

  “They made me dance,” Nell said in a small squeak, then pressed her lips tightly together as if she had revealed too much.

  Tanya looked down at Nell’s feet, protruding from beneath the blanket. They were dirty and grass-stained, and there were cuts and blisters all over them. Her flip-flops were barely in one piece.

  Morag helped herself to a custard cream from a small dish Florence had placed on the table. At once, Oberon started to drool over her knees.

  “That’s about all I could get out of her too,” Morag said through a crumbly mouthful.

  “Was my father with her?” Fabian asked urgently. “Did she say anything at all about where she had been?”

  “No, nothing,” said Morag. “She was alone, like I said.”

  “She got lost in the woods earlier this afternoon with Warwick,” Florence explained.

  “We were looking for General Carver,” Nell mumbled, staring into the fire. She was still shivering hard.

  “Her parrot,” Tanya explained, seeing Morag’s baffled expression. “He flew off. That’s why Nell and Warwick were in the woods in the first place. I saw what happened. They were pulled into one of the fairy rings by some… well, some fairies—”

  “Naturally,” said Morag, as though such occurrences were commonplace. “I thought as much. That would explain the dancing.” She dunked another custard cream in her tea. “Dangerous time of year for it.”

  “This is just a bad dream,” Nell murmured, starting to rock. Her eyes were fixed and staring on the fire. “There’s no such thing as fairies. I’m going to wake up any minute, and when I do, the General will be here and everything will be all right and… Oh! What did you do that for, you little pest?”

  Fabian had leaned forward and pinched her.

  “Because that’s what you do when you think you’re dreaming,” said Fabian. “You pinch yourself to check if you’re awake or not. But obviously you weren’t going to do it, so I thought I’d help.”

  Nell’s eyes filled with tears.

  “I don’t want to stay here,” she sniffed. “I want to find General Carver, and I want to leave. He’ll be terrified out there, alone and in the dark.”

  “I’m rather more concerned about Warwick,” Florence said stiffly. “I know you’ve had a terrible shock, Nell, but we need you to cooperate. The things you saw in the woods are real, and now Warwick is in danger. We need y
ou to tell us what happened so we can find him… just tell us what you can.”

  “There were three of them,” said Nell through her tears, looking at Tanya as if to back her up.

  Tanya nodded encouragingly.

  “They were playing this tune… it was like nothing I’d ever heard. My body was moving of its own accord—I couldn’t control it. All I could do was dance, around and around. They kept changing the notes, shifting, moving to other circles to dance in. We were moving through the woods. I was tired, so tired. I begged them to let me stop, but they just carried on, getting faster and faster—”

  “And my father,” Fabian interrupted. “What was he doing?”

  “The same,” Nell continued. “Just dancing, he couldn’t stop either… but he wasn’t as tired as I was. We kept on and on; I thought it would never stop. And all the while they kept laughing and singing, and they were so strange….” She shuddered. “I only got away because my flip-flop got caught on the root of a little tree laden with red berries—it hooked me back, and broke the dance somehow.”

  “Red berries,” said Morag, thoughtfully. “Sounds like it was rowan—protection against dark magic.”

  “They didn’t even realize I’d fallen behind,” Nell continued, in a quavering voice. “They just carried on until I lost sight of them. Warwick was still with them.”

  There was a long, brooding silence.

  “But there’s still a chance,” said Fabian, desperately. “Perhaps my father isn’t far away… perhaps he managed to break the spell as well, somehow. He could be in the woods right now!”

  “It’s possible,” Florence said quietly. “But unlikely. If Warwick had managed to get away, he would have found his way back by now. I’m sure of it.”

  “But he might be injured,” Fabian protested. “He might not be able to make it back! We should go and look for him. If Nell got away, then he might have too!”

  Florence shook her head. “Much as I want to believe that, I think the chances are slim. We’ll wait here until Raven and Gredin bring news.” She gave Tanya and Fabian a warning look. “And that’s final.”

  Morag got up, folding her blanket. She reached for her shawl, still damp, and threw it around her shoulders before walking to the back door.