“Oh come on!” I beseech. “What’s the harm in us knowing? I’m a witch, too, I’m not gonna betray you. And I still have so many questions. How long have you been the Black Bear Witch? Are you ancient, or does the role pass from generation to generation? Andwhyare you called that? Do you turn into a black bear? What other magic can you do?”
“There is no point to answering any of that,” he replies. “You’ll just forget, anyway.”
“I will pay you four hundred dollars to let us remember this,” Morgan says. “Maybe more, if I can get a loan.”
The witch laughs. It’s a gentle, good-humored sound.
Morgan tries again. “I’ll give you my car.”
“I have no use for a car.”
I drag my feet. “How did you get so powerful? Tell usthat, at least, before you make us go.”
And he does.
“As a witch, the older you get, the more of your life you’ve given to doing what magic wants, and therefore, the more reward magic gives back to you. One day when you are as old as I am, if you hold tight to your magic and don’t let it escape you, you’ll have riches of your own.” He spreads his fingers in the air, as if feeling for a change of winds, and the frame of a door appears beneath his touch. The rest of a dilapidated cabin paints itself into existence around it.
The carved owl is still taking flight.Leaving So Soon?
No! There’s too much left that I want to find out! “But my grandmother was a witch, she grew old, and she didn’t have the power to build anything like this.” I gesture to the village. “What did magic give to her?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” The man looks at me sidelong, hands clasped behind him. “Magic gave Dottieyou. Luna. Romina.”
Morgan’s mouth slumps into a half frown. “How do you know about Zelda’s family?”
The man opens the door. “Be watchful where you walk in there,” he advises us. “It’s dark now, and full of life. I’ve just let loose a raccoon that transforms into a cloud of yellowjackets whenever it smells pears, and a melanistic red fox that nests on rooftops.” He interrupts our monsoon of follow-up questions with a curt shake of the head. “No, no, got to keep on moving. It’s time for you to be leaving now.”
Morgan and I face each other in a cold panic as the witch presses his hands to the backs of our necks. My body flashes cold. “We’re going to lose this,” Morgan says in despair. “We won’t remember.”
“Let him remember,” I entreat the witch. “Take it from me, but let him keep this.”
The man prods us over the threshold. “You knew how it would end when you started out.”
The forest is feral here, overgrown with wide, flabby mushrooms, split trees, and blinking yellow eyes crouched in the undergrowth. “Must be about to storm,” I surmise, tipping my head back. “The sky got black awful fast.” My feet ache from walking all day, my muscles are sore from carting luggage, and my eyes beg for sleep. Where did the brays go? Can they see us? Are they following?
“You smell something burning?” Morgan asks.
I sniff. “A conflagrinal?”
We check out our surroundings, but it’s too dark to make out any smoke.
“Something’s wrong with my phone,” Morgan murmurs. “Says the time is ten fifteen.”
“We should set up camp,” I say. “It’s too dark, there’s no way we’re finding the Black Bear Witch tonight.”
“Where’d we leave our stuff? I don’t remember setting it down.”
We shine flashlights through the woods, beams of light revealing a heavy fall of mist. My light crosses with his, landing on our suitcases forty paces away.
“Here, you hold Forte, and I’ll grab it all.” Morgan lifts the sling from around his neck, handing the gingersnappus over to me.
“Okay, buthurry.”
I’m ashamed to admit that the instant he leaves my side, I start to get nervous. And a bit sick? Almost as if he has become a necessity, and I can’t function correctly when he isn’t within touching distance. Which is ludicrous.
I am all alone.
I love being all alone.
