I didn’t know if the woman would know she’d had a visitor or not, but it wouldn’t matter. As I felt better, I tidied up the place, cleaning up the furniture and floor, sweeping away the dust and cobwebs with a large broom I found in the corner.
The kitchen was filled with every spice and herb imaginable. The woman’s cottage was better stocked than the palace kitchens, I was sure of it. I wiped the dust from the lids and put them on the shelves over the long counter.
Candles sat on every surface, their wicks half-burned and trails of wax leaking down the sides. There were white ones, black ones, purple ones, red ones. Ones that were sickly green and pale yellow ones like the delicate lilies that bloomed outside at night. Moonflowers, I believed they were called.
And in every window sill, strewn between the candles, there were stones and crystals. I didn’t know their names, but the colors of those varied as well.
The door across from the witch’s bedroom had thirteen locks on it in varying sizes, each requiring a different key. She didn’t want whatever was in there to come out or anyone to get in, but I couldn’t help but wonder what lay behind it. Was she trying to keep people out, or keep something dangerous inside?
Forget the door. It wasn’t wise to snoop through someone’s house. I wouldn’t want anyone rifling through my things if I was asleep and not expecting such visitors. Though, I wouldn’t be levitating above my bed in a strange state of rest, either.
I thought of kissing her to see if she would wake. She was real, the very stuff of fairy tales, and every fairy tale I’d been read as a child told of spells being broken that way.
They’re only supposed to be stories, I reasoned. But witches aren’t supposed to exist, either. None of this is supposed to be real.
If she was the dark witch, a kiss might anger her. The action might cause her to seek vengeance on me, and then I would become dinner. Rolfe’s terrorized expression and his urgent cries flashed through my mind.
Staring at her bedroom door, I wondered if such a beautiful creature could truly hurt me. I wondered what color her eyes were, and if her smile was as brilliant as it was in my imagination. And if she was deadly, what weapons would she wield against me?
I needed to get out of there. A nagging feeling of danger had settled into the pit of my stomach, and while I didn’t trust many things, I trusted my intuition. It had saved me on more than one occasion. Of course, it didn’t help me the day I fell from the cliff, but I was being foolish; trying to be like William instead of using my head. Rolfe felt the wrongness of the woods, and the horses were skittish. I should have listened to my friend, and if nothing else, I knew animals had a sense for bad omens and foul weather. I shouldn’t have gone near the fog. Not even for a stag as large as the one hiding within the mist.
Feeling better than I had since stumbling upon the cottage, I decided I would leave tomorrow at dawn. My host had shown no signs of waking, and I wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep. Having washed and eaten dinner, I sat in the chair by the fireplace, petting the cat who’d curled up beside me, eyes squinted closed and purring happily.
Cat and I sat in the chair. It was dark. The crickets sang loudly outside the windows.
“I have to leave in the morning at first light,” I told Cat. She let out what sounded like a sad meow.
“I know. I’ve enjoyed your company, too. But I’m afraid your mistress won’t be happy when she wakes. She will wake, won’t she?” I hated the thought of leaving Cat behind, but she was a skilled hunter. She could feed herself. There was a small stream nearby. She had everything she needed to eat, drink, and survive until her mistress did awaken.
I had become so lonely, I was conversing with a cat.
“I need to gather my things.”
I stood and Cat jumped to the floor. Packing a bag with some food, I sat it near the door and took my sheathed knife from the hearth. I was worried about leaving the young woman in the next room. What if someone with ill intentions wandered in here and saw the state she was in? Who would protect her?
Cat would try. She seemed very protective of this place, and also able to read people. She knew that I was no threat, but would she recognize someone who was?
With a small pile of my things and borrowed food near the door, I settled into the chair with cat in my lap. I needed to rest and the sun would rise soon enough.
I jerked awake when Cat jumped off my lap, meowed loudly three times and ran into the bedroom of the young woman. Blinking the blurriness out of my eyes, I called for her. Was something wrong? “Cat?”
Gritting my teeth, I decided to peek inside and make sure the woman was okay. I grabbed a candleholder and entered her room, quietly pushing the door open. When my eyes adjusted to the darkness as much as they could, I saw her in the dark room, hovering above the bed. She hadn’t moved an inch since I’d been there. I half expected her to be sitting up or standing, or even laying on the mattress, but thankfully she only floated in the air.
Cat squalled but I couldn’t tell where she was in the room.
“Cat?”
Cat brushed against my legs, but quickly became restless, jumping from the floor to the bed, to a chest of drawers that was stuffed full, and then to the writing desk again, overturning a pot of ink. She jumped down and crossed the floor, disappearing into a closet that was brimming with clothes. I sat the candle down and rushed to stop the spill, uprighting the overturned ink pot. “What’s gotten into you?” I asked Cat.
In the process, my hand was stained black. I needed to find water and a rag to clean up this mess. I turned to look at the levitating woman... and she was gone.
Warm breath fanned the back of my neck. My hair stood on end. And every muscle in my body tensed.
Slowly, I turned to face her.
The woman’s fingers, sharp at the tips, curled around my neck. With more strength and speed than was humanly possible, she slammed me into the wall beside us. I cried out, panting through the pain bursting through my bones again.
“What are you doing in my home?” she growled, enunciating every word. Her teeth were bared. She had... fangs. And her eyes. Her eyes were yellow-green, just like Cat’s. She narrowed them, squeezing my throat tighter.
Oh, God. Rolfe was right.
“I—” I couldn’t talk. Couldn’t breathe. She had cut off my airway. A pressure built in my face until she eased her grip, but she didn’t let me go. I wasn’t out of danger yet. “I injured myself in the woods and found your cottage,” I stammered.
“How long have you been here?”
One of her claws bit into my skin, drawing blood. The wound stung. A warm, wet trickle slid down my throat.
“One week.” I swallowed. She was going to kill me.
She looked me over from my hair to my feet, sizing me up. Cat came to my defense, settling on my shoes between us.
“You look familiar, somehow. Your ribs are healing. Your arm, too. How is your ankle now?”