“You are hard to pinpoint,” she mused. “There is a darkness about you. An unfathomable power. I have ideas.”
“Ideas?”
She nodded slowly. “But you are a mystery. There is something I cannot grasp.”
“But you told me to leave,” I insisted—almost begged. “Why?”
“I did. I have a feeling about you. An intuition, you could call it. And it is not a good one. You are dark. As dark as they come.”
I sighed through gritted teeth. “So, you do not know who I am, then.”
“Why is it you’re asking me?”
“There’s this—” I gestured absently with my hands, “—this blankness where my memories should be.”
She cocked her head. “Is that so?”
“My mind has been erased, scrambled, blotted out. I do not know. And this pain strikes me at the strangest times.”
She picked up my mug, shoving it into my hands before she picked up her own mug. Her eyes never left my face. “A pain in your mind?”
“Something like that, yes.”
“How peculiar.”
“Can you help me?” I asked. I felt vaguely nauseous, having to stoop to asking another for help. But I was desperate. “Help me remember? Help me figure out who I am?”
“Try your tea,” she insisted. “It’s delicious.” She took a long, deliberate sip from her own mug.
I grimaced. “Why? Will that convince you to help me?”
She smiled, tilting her head forward in encouragement. “It’s polite.”
I took a tentative sip. It was a bit over steeped, but not the worst tea I’d ever tasted.
She nodded once, the smile falling from her face.
“Will you help?” I asked again. If I had to ask aloud once more, I was sure my ego would crack.
“I am not sure I can. Your darkness is not good for this town, as I said before. Trouble will find you. I can feel it.”
The anger was slower to boil to the surface this time. “I will leave when I have my memories sorted out,” I lied. I would leave only if I could snatch my wife and bring her with me. Preferably willingly rather than kicking and screaming.
“Hmm. I am rather curious… Can I feel?”
“Feel what?”
She rose, discarding her tea again and holding her hands out expectantly.
I swallowed. My throat felt strangely tight.
I didn’t want to touch the strange witch. I didn’t wish to press my skin to any hands other than Ginger’s.
I didn’t know what this crone was capable of.
But I didn’t have much of a choice.
“Be smart, or I will bring about your death,” I threatened.
