13 Curses (12 page)

“By accident,” the man said. “Trying to help someone. Our housekeeper. She ran into the woods after her pet bird flew off. I ran after her, and found her dancing in a fairy ring. I tried to pull her out, and instead ended up getting pulled in with her. There were three other revelers, dancing, singing, and playing instruments. We were carried away with the dance, the music was enchanted… impossible to resist.”

“Where is she? This housekeeper?”

“I don’t know. We became separated when I got my foot caught in a trap.” He looked down. Red followed his gaze. In his left boot, puncture marks were visible in the leather, like a crocodile had snapped at the foot. Blood welled in the indents. “They carried on dancing and moved off through the woods,” he continued. “I don’t think they realized I was no lon
ger following. I don’t know where she is now, but I need to find her and get us both out of here.”

“But you knew about the fairy realm?” Red asked. “You knew the housekeeper was caught in the fairy ring? How do you know about fairies? Do you have the second sight?”

The man’s gaze shifted to Eldritch. He seemed reluctant to answer.

“No,” he said quietly. “But other people I know do. And I’ve used something before—a solution to enable me to see them—but I wasn’t using it today. It was all so fast and unexpected. I ran into the woods without fully preparing.”

Red nodded, relaxing slightly. “I believe you,” she told him.

“Good,” said the man weakly. “Now cut me free, and let’s get out of here.”

“You think it’ll be that easy?” Eldritch sneered. “Even if you’re untied, getting out of the cottage will be a different matter. The trapdoor will be locked, and I guarantee the Hedgewitch will have used magic to prevent anyone from leaving against her will.”

“We’ll deal with that when we come to it,” Red answered, glaring at him.

“Where did you get those?” the man asked her, eyeing the scissors in wonder.

Red faltered. “They belonged to someone else. I ended up with them accidentally.”

“You thieved them!” Eldritch crowed.

“No, I didn’t!” Red retorted. “I didn’t even realize
I’d brought them with me. They were caught up in my clothing. That’s why the Hedgewitch never found them—”

She broke off abruptly as a scraping sound came from above. The latch to the trapdoor was being pulled back.

“She’s coming!” Eldritch hissed.

Red scrambled away from the man, hiding the scissors in the first place she could think of: beneath the damp straw. She retched as the stench was disturbed, forcing herself to push the scissors deep into the putrid pile. She had only seconds to throw herself back into place before the Hedgewitch pulled back the trapdoor and set foot on the first step leading down into the cellar. Red’s heart was thudding as the witch drew closer. She was alone, and Red knew that this meant she had come for one of her prisoners.

It had never been in Red’s nature to freeze with fright; instead her instinct was to run. But now she was forced to stay still, to fight the urge, for there was no point in running if there was nowhere to escape to. Even so she eyed the steps leading up to the cottage. Could she make it, if she ran hard and fast enough? Without her hands free to steady her it seemed futile. One stumble would see the end of the attempt if she had no hands to brace a fall. And she had no doubt that the Hedgewitch’s wrath would be terrible and instantaneous. So she remained still, waiting.

The Hedgewitch approached, skirting around the
filthy straw. Red’s fears were confirmed as the woman knelt beside her, her smell of decay filling the air. She seized Red’s hair in her fist, turning her head to face her. Light from the cottage above glinted against something… a shard of broken mirror that came slicing down toward her.

Red caught sight of her own eyes, wide in terror, in its reflection. There was a small cutting sound as it severed a strand of her hair, and then the witch released the rest of her hair, breathing heavily. Red’s scalp tingled. She saw the witch shaking the hair carefully into something oval, pale, and smooth: a hollowed-out eggshell. Then, raising the mirror shard once more, the witch grabbed Red’s hand and pulled it toward her. For a moment Red was convinced the witch would notice that Red’s hands were now bound in front of her, and not behind—but she seemed too absorbed in what she was doing. Red felt a sharp sting in her thumb and knew the skin there had been pierced. Wordlessly, the witch lifted Red’s thumb and squeezed it painfully, collecting three drops of blood in the eggshell along with the lock of hair. The shard of mirror joined them seconds later. Red gasped, instinctively pulling away. With a throaty laugh, the witch released her and crossed the cellar, climbing the steps to above once more. The slam of the trapdoor sounded like a tomb being sealed.

“What is she doing?” Red croaked, sucking her bleeding thumb. “Why did she take hair and blood from me?”

“Haven’t you figured it out yet?” Eldritch replied.
“Why do you think she’s taken your hair and blood? Why do you think she took them using a fragment of broken mirror? And why do you think she’s brewing them in an eggshell?”

Red stared at him, rolling his words around in her mind. “Hair… blood,” she whispered. “A broken mirror… reflections. An egg… new life…”

“That’s right,” Eldritch said ghoulishly. “You’re going to be her glamour. Her new disguise.” He tilted his head and looked toward the ceiling. “Any minute now, you’ll hear her. I’ve heard it twice before.”

Red lifted her head. Above, the Hedgewitch began to chant.

“Through my veins your blood shall flow,

Three drops this shell does brew.

Through my scalp your hair shall grow,

And old will become new.

Reflection of the garment past

Mixed with the garment fresh

A new glamour is being cast

This spell will change the flesh.

Warp and twist, fool and convince

The onlooker’s perception.

Mortal, fey, pauper, or prince

Succumb to this deception.

Like a snake, this skin is shed

A new one grown in place,

Chameleon tail, foot, and head

Allow swift shift of face.”

The chant paused briefly, then took up again from the beginning.

“Through my veins your blood shall flow, three drops this shell does brew….”

Red turned to Eldritch. He was eyeing her craftily from the shadows.

“What’s going to happen to me?” she asked urgently. “How long do I have before she… before she turns into me? And what will happen once she does? Will I turn into her, or whoever she’s pretending to be now?”

Eldritch stared back at her, a rakish smile on his lips.

“Answer me! What will happen?”

“You won’t turn into her, no,” he said eventually. “But when she’s… you, you’ll start to feel strange… displaced. You’ll begin to have visions of things you haven’t seen or done and memories that aren’t yours but hers. The more she uses you, the less like you you’ll feel.”

“But how can that be?” Red whispered, horrified.

“Because she’ll be out there, seeing things, doing things, and experiencing them as you. Whereas you’ll be down here, with only these four walls, and misery and despair. It’ll take time, months even, before you stop feeling like you altogether. And she will be more
you
than you are.”

“How long before her spell transforms her into me?” Red asked, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “How long have I got?”

Eldritch shrugged. “Difficult to say. It’s been different for each of the others she’s used before. One took only a matter of minutes. By the time she’d taken the hair and blood they were half out of their mind with terror, which seemed to accelerate the spell. The other took longer—it was dawn before it took effect. She was chanting all night, I thought I’d never get the words out of my head….” His voice trailed off.

“We need to get out of here,” the other man said hoarsely.

“We can’t,” said Eldritch. “I’ve told you, she bolts the trapdoor. And it’s the only way out.”

“Then we’ll wait until she comes down next,” said Red. “And we’ll have to make a run for it.”

“What about me?” Eldritch demanded. “I can’t run anywhere—not with this holding me in place!” He jerked his wrist, trapped in the manacle, and then cursed under his breath. “The only way I’m getting out is with the key. Someone needs to overpower her, take her by surprise.”

Red glanced at the human man, trying to read his expression. He remained silent, looking thoughtful. His face was half hidden in the shadows.

“Yes,” he murmured at last. “Overpowering her is the only way all three of us can escape. So that’s what we have to do.”

“Very well,” said Red. Steeling herself, she plunged her hands into the fetid pile of straw and groped for the scissors. Eventually she found them and pulled them out, wiping them dry on one of the few unsoiled
patches of straw. Moving over toward the man, she began to hack at the spidertwine pinning his limbs into place. Within a couple of minutes he was free, shaking life back into his limbs. Red waited, trying to curb her impatience as he pulled himself into a sitting position. He held his hand out for the scissors, looking her in the eye.

“Give them to me and I’ll cut your bonds.”

She hesitated.

“If you try anything, anything at all, I’ll make you sorry,” she threatened.

The man looked at her, taken aback. “Like what?”

“Like not giving the scissors back,” she said. To make her point, she stared pointedly at his injured foot. “If you try to run, you won’t get far. I’ll make that injury ten times worse.” She held his surprised gaze and hoped she sounded convincing, despite her heart fluttering like a caged bird.

Eldritch gave an amused chuckle.

“I won’t try anything,” the man said calmly, meeting her glare.

Finally she handed him the scissors. In silence he cut the ropes binding her wrists, waiting patiently as she hurried to rub warmth and life back into her freezing hands. She had pins and needles, but even so she snatched the scissors from the man’s palm and tucked them away into an inside pocket of her trousers.

“So now what?” she said to Eldritch. “How long before she comes down here again?”

“Impossible to guess. Could be minutes or hours.”

Though it had stayed unspoken, Red knew that the talk of overpowering the Hedgewitch meant that it would have to be her who did it. The thought scared her more than anything had in a long time. But there was no other option: Eldritch couldn’t move, and the human man’s foot was injured too badly for him to be able to move quickly enough. It all depended on her. And all there was left to do now was wait.

“Let’s talk,” she said eventually, desperate to think about something,
anything
except what was yet to come.

“What do you want to talk about?” said Eldritch.

“Why don’t we begin with ourselves?” the man suggested. “That seems as good a place to start as any.” He paused, shifting to loosen the laces of the boot on his injured foot. “If we’re going to be working together to get out of here, then we should get to know one another.”

Red nodded. Above, the Hedgewitch’s chant continued, low and steady.

“Warp and twist, fool and convince the onlooker’s perception….”

She shuddered, eager to block out the terrible sound.

“Fine, I’ll go first.” She closed her eyes, allowing herself to look into the past. “I’m here because of my brother. He was taken from me last February. I’ve come to get him back.”

On the first morning in the children’s home, Mr. Bones was gone when Rowan awoke. One of the twins must have come in quietly and collected him. She had slept fitfully and, as she sat up, snatches of bad dreams pricked at her like poisoned thorns.

She pushed back the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. On the dressing table was an alarm clock. It was still early, just coming up to seven o’clock in the morning. She looked over to check on James. He was awake, lying quietly in the crib. As she leaned over and reached in to him, his face broke into a smile. He grabbed hold of her good arm and pulled himself up, then clung to the side of the crib, stamping his feet as he took in his surroundings.