A Nameless Witch Part 22

"What now?" asked Newt.

I gave no explanation as I studied the abandoned house. It was wholly unexceptional. I climbed the porch steps and pushed open the creaking door to find nothing but dust and spiderwebs inside. It had been a long time since anyone called this place home.

Wyst dismounted. "Is something wrong?"

We walked around to the back of the overgrown yard. A door in the earth beckoned. The rusted hinges broke when I opened it. The evening twilight refused to enter the darkened hole.

"Are you feeling well?"

The worry in Wyst's voice meant much of my witchly inscrutability had fallen away. I would've rea.s.sured him, but I wasn't certain how I felt. There were so many thoughts and emotions welling up that I couldn't pick out just one. I descended into the earth, and in the darkness, I found the past I'd left behind so long ago. This was the countryside of my birth. I hadn't recognized it because I'd only seen it once while living in Ghastly Edna's charge. I'd worn a cowl then and kept my eyes closed most of the time. Sunlight had bothered me much more then. But I knew this place.

My cellar.

Wyst's shadow filled the door. "Witch?"

I placed my hand against a rotted support beam and found an omen in the splintered grooves. "We camp here tonight."

Newt's silhouette appeared between Wyst's feet. "Here? In the bas.e.m.e.nt?"

"No. You can camp outside."

"But there's at least another hour of daylight," said Newt. "Shouldn't we keep going?"

"Tonight comes the next trial. Here."

"In the bas.e.m.e.nt?"

I wasn't feeling very witchly at the moment and threw him a glare that never climbed out of the darkness.

"And what do you mean another trial?" he said. "Already? We just had one yesterday Nothing for weeks and then, two trials right atop one another. Where's the sense of pace to this quest?"

I wasn't in the mood for this. And sometimes, when a witch gets properly annoyed, her magic responds unbidden. A breeze swept through the cellar and up the stairs.

"I would think whatever force was in charge of quests would quack quack quack quack."

I smiled. Then I frowned because a witch should never allow herself to do magic by accident. Especially malicious magic.

Newt kept on talking. Or trying. "Quack quack quack." He cleared his throat. "Quack quack quack." He drew in a deep breath and expelled one last disgusted duck call before disappearing from the doorway.

Wyst dared step one foot in the dark that I'd called home so many years. "Witch, are you certain you're well?"

I glanced up at that handsome face. In the darkness, his eyes seemed to s.h.i.+ne. "Certain? Can anyone be certain of anything?" It sounded vaguely witchful, but I was off my game. I decided not to settle.

"Certainty is for fools and death." I liked that, even if I didn't really understand it myself. The phrase reminded me of what it was to be a good witch.

I stepped deeper into the dark, where the shadows enveloped me. "We camp here. Now leave me."

He hesitated.

My voice grew soft and scratchy. "Leave me."

Something must've reminded Wyst of what it was to be a White Knight because he withdrew. His face went blank, and he vanished from the door.

Magic didn't act on its own. It acted on the will and desires of others, and I had to wonder whose will had guided me here. It could've been Nasty Larry or Ghastly Edna from beyond the grave. Or Soulless Gustav. Or even myself. I didn't know the who or why of it, but I trusted to discover it in time.

I stood alone for some time. The light filtering through the door faded. It was an overcast night, and my cellar became a black emptiness. A hole in the ground filled with nothing, just a scarcity of memories.

My childhood hadn't been much to remember. There was the spot at the bottom of the stairs where I'd waited for my meals to be thrown to me. There was the corner where I'd eaten those meals. And there was the other corner where I'd sat and slept between those meals. Countless days, but really the same day over and over and over. This place meant little to me now. It hadn't meant much to me before. I couldn't even remember my family. My life truly began the day Ghastly Edna had pulled me from this hole.

In another world, another time, an explorer of this cellar might easily find a hideous, terrified creature huddling in the dark, abandoned by her family and too frightened to leave this dusty void. A beast to be feared, despised, and pitied. The me that never was but so easily could have been.

Harsh light burned away the dark. Wyst of the West descended the creaking stairs. I kept my back to him. I only knew it was him by scent. I had a predator's nose when it came to men. They were my curse's meal of choice.

The shadows fought against the invading lantern. It had been a long time since their sanctuary had been challenged, but they could only hiss and writhe and fight among themselves.

"Witch?"

I didn't turn to face the White Knight. "Yes?"

"Will you be spending the night down here?"

I lowered my head and closed my eyes. "Perhaps I will."

He moved to the left, judging by the s.h.i.+fting light. I turned my head away. The lantern seemed so terribly bright.

"And the trial, are you certain we face it tonight?" asked Wyst.

"We do not face a trial tonight." I raised a hand and watched the silhouette play against the wall. "I do alone."

"By yourself?"

I offered no reply as none was needed.

Wyst stepped closer. I covered my eyes.

"But..." He stammered. I'd never heard him stammer. ".. . aren't we . . . working together?"

"We are, but this next trial is one that only I can defeat. You, the others, will only get in my way."

"But.. ."

I turned my face to him and forced my eyes open. I could only squint, but I hoped it was a mysterious squint. "There are things which must be."

He raised his lantern higher. The rabid shadows refused to fall across his pleasing face. Wyst of the West held out a hand. He closed it into a fist. Then opened it. Then put it atop his head and shrugged. He turned and moved toward the stairs.

"Wyst." As much time as we'd spent together, this was the first time I'd spoken his name.

"Yes?"

"I have a favor to ask you."

The cellar grew so quiet, I could hear the shadows whispering. I was very close to forgetting the whole affair, but he offered me courage.

"You only have to ask."

I couldn't look directly at him. "Could you hold me?"

Wyst remained rigid and silent. I tried to read his face and found only earnest sobriety.

I suddenly felt very foolish.

"I'm sorry. But I have glimpsed the creature I might have been, and I was hoping to find the mortal woman I should have been. If only for a moment. But I should've known even simple embraces are against your oath."

"They are"-He set down his lantern and clasped his hands together-"discouraged."

"I shouldn't have asked. My apologies."

He moved before me and put a hand on my shoulder. "Discouraged. Not forbidden."

And just like that, he took me in his arms. Gingerly at first. I had little experience in physical affection, and he was pre sumably out of practice. But it wasn't so complicated. We leaned into each other. His arms circled just above my waist. My hands rubbed his back in small circles. I nuzzled his neck. My hat fell off, and I didn't care.

The shadows ceased muttering at the sight.

Wyst was so warm, and his touch triggered the heat within my cold, undead flesh. The cellar seemed a frozen hollow. My heart beat faster. My skin tingled. My stomach twisted.

This was what my curse denied me. I could savor it for only a moment. The trust. The warmth. The imperceptible made tangible, given form in this man. I suspected nothing could be better than this. Except for possibly ripping out his throat and lapping at the sweet blood gus.h.i.+ng forth. Probably not even that.

My stomach rumbled loud as thunder. At least, it seemed so to me. I was reminded of what I was. I pulled away. It wasn't so easy. My arms let go with great reluctance, and I sensed some resistance from Wyst. Or maybe only imagined it.

The invisible mark on his forehead flickered, and I knew I hadn't. Wyst's purity remained intact, but beneath the White Knight was a mortal man. Unfortunately, I'd rediscovered the accursed fiend within me as well.

He said nothing. He turned, picked up his lantern, and stared up the stairs.

"Wyst, thank you."

He paused at the door and spoke so softly I barely heard him over the chattering shadows. "You're welcome."

Then he was gone, and I was left in the bas.e.m.e.nt again. I wasn't alone anymore. On one side hunched the creature I might have been. On the other stood the woman I should have been. In this forsaken place, both were as real as the witch between them, but there was another world atop those stairs. A world where only one of us was true. So I bid them good night and many good tomorrows and ascended from this pit into the night.

The others were camped around the front of the cabin. I followed the sound of irritated quacks. Everyone was waiting there but Wyst, who was nowhere to be seen. But his horse was still here. He couldn't have gone far.

Penelope dragged herself to my side. Her tryst with the road had left her exhausted.

"Enjoy yourself?" I asked.

She raised into the air and bobbed.

"Very good, dear, but you should learn to pace yourself. Now go rest."

No sooner had she floated away then Newt stood before me. He quacked once and glared.

"I vote to leave him like that," remarked Gwurm.

Newt shouted something rude at the troll. Though I was fluent in duck, I didn't bother translating.

"He's been like this all night. Persnickety and foul-tempered. More so than usual. Maybe you should change him back after all."

I waved a hand. Newt belched and instantly began questioning me. Demons don't learn lessons easily. "What did you do to the White Knight? He didn't say a word after coming out of that bas.e.m.e.nt. Strangest look on his face. I don't like it. You shouldn't be consorting with him by yourself. It's dangerous."

I smiled. "Life often is."

"Where's your hat?"

"I must have left it in the cellar." Absently, I ran my fingers through my silken hair. "I don't need it right now." I glanced into the overcast sky, just bright enough for my undead eyes.

New scowled. "And when is the next trial anyway? I'm getting tired of waiting. Does the magic think we have nothing better to do than sit here all night?"

I put a finger to my lips and shushed him. He bit his tongue. I guess he'd learned his lesson after all.

"My apologies, mistress."

"Quite all right. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to face the next trial."

"By yourself?" asked Gwurm.

I nodded.

Newt stood in my way. "But, mistress, I'm your familiar. My place is by your side."

"Not this time."

I stepped around the duck.

"What happened to your limp?" he asked.

I hesitated at the edge of darkness. "Oh, that. I don't need that either. Wait here. I'll be back shortly. Or not at all."

I slipped into the night and went in search of my trial. My thoughts were elsewhere, but an omen in the clouds told me I wouldn't be looking for long. It was already waiting for me in the overgrown fields.

Two shadows rose from the gra.s.s. One was a skulking ghoul. The other was a slip of a young girl. The creature that I might have been and the woman I should have been. Reflections given substance through powerful sorcery.

"You didn't really think to leave us in that bas.e.m.e.nt?" asked the ghoul.

"We will always be with you," said the woman. "We have always been."

"I know. We all carry many selves, but in the end, these are just phantoms of possibility, nothing more than ghosts of broken destinies."

The ghoul cackled. "Ghosts no more."