“All right, all right,” she whispered. “Wait for me here.”
Lucenna tied the reins to a rusted iron wheel resting against the wall and approached the door. The witch’s symbol faintly glowed. Shivers traveled up her spine like crawling ants.
She glanced at the one-eyed man again, and he stared silently back.
Is it safe to go in?She wanted to ask, but it was ridiculous. Why should she be scared? Her magic protected her.
Lucenna swallowed and reached for the knob, only to realize it was made of bone. Animal or human?Don’t think about it.Grabbing it, a shudder passed through her at its porous texture, and she quickly opened the door. Before she could change her mind, Lucenna slipped inside.
It was dark and cold. Then the smell hit her. The rank stench of spoiled meat, foul herbs, and sour urine choked her senses, making her eyes water. Smoke wafted in the air. A thick canopy of interwoven thorns hung from the rafters. The room was full of random furniture, barrels, and cages with chickens and pigs, squealing and clucking in their filth.
Voices drifted from deeper within.
“You’re a pretty thing,” came a raspy, female voice. “It’s not every day one with a face like yours comes to see old Briar. What brings you here? A charm? A potion? Poison, perhaps.”
Lucenna crept closer.
“None of the mentioned, madam,” a man answered, in a deep, brogue accent. “I’ve come to inquire about Witch’s Brew.”
The Briar Witch cackled, and another shudder passed through Lucenna. It was nothing like the performance she’d given on the street. It was a dry, wicked sound that reminded her of wind rattling through brittle branches.
“Does the pretty one have trouble sleeping?” the witch mocked. “The darkness finds its way into all of our dreams. Well, I have none on hand at the moment. I can have it for you at dawn within two days’ time.”
Lucenna peered out from behind a pillar. By the hearth crackling in the corner was a tall, broad-shouldered man in a long dark coat and leather armor, similar to the man waiting outside. He faced the fire, and the flames highlighted the gold of his hair and the bristles on his jaw. His back bore the white sigil of a bird’s skull.
An old woman in a dark red robe stood before him, the hood covering most of her face. The folds of her cheeks lifted as her dry lips cracked in a smile. Her gnarled fingernails walked a path up the man’s chest. “What shall we trade for it? The color of your eyes or a kiss from those sensual lips?”
He shifted back. “You misunderstand, madam. I want to know how it’s made. What are its full effects?”
The Briar Witch cackled again and turned to stir a black pot simmering over the fire. “If you think I’ll tell you trade secrets, then you’re not very smart, my pretty.”
“I have no interest in making a profit from the wares of a witch. I seek only to know its purpose.” He dropped a heavy sack on a cluttered table, and it rattled loudly as gold coins spilled on the tabletop, glittering in the firelight.
The witch ran her fingers through them. “You have spilled much blood for your wealth.”
“And more is yet to be spilled.”
Her dry mouth split in a grin, revealing yellowed teeth. “I knew I liked you. Well, come closer. I’ll not share secrets whereotherscan hear.”
Lucenna’s heart dropped in her stomach, feeling she’d been caught. The Briar Witch rose on the toes of her dirty bare feet to whisper in his ear. The man stiffened as her dry lips caressing him like a lover. He jerked back when she finished.
The witch cocked her head, wearing a simpering smile. “Not what you expected to hear?”
“You have been … helpful, madam. Thank you. Good day.” He nodded and marched for the exit at a clipped pace.
Lucenna ducked behind the pillar. When he passed, his gaze flickered to where she hid for the briefest of seconds, then he slipped through the door. He’d moved too fast for her to get a good look at him.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” the Briar Witch sang. “I sensed you as soon as you crossed the threshold, sweet meat.”
Lucenna bit back a curse. Goosebumps pricked her skin as every instinct told her to leave. Immediately.
Taking a breath, she rose and faced the witch with a blank expression. “Pardon, madam. I didn’t wish to interrupt,” she said in a practiced, croaking voice. “I, too, have come to inquire for some knowledge. Might you have black clovers for sale or know where I may acquire them?”
The witch threw back her head and laughed, giving Lucenna a view inside of her slimy mouth full of sores. “You’re no witch, or you would know the proper etiquette by which we hold. A witch does not ask another for the power to kill her.”
She snapped her bony fingers, and a cold smoke snatched Lucenna in the air. It pulled her close enough to smell the witch’s revolting breath. Lucenna bucked wildly, but the invisible hold kept her in a vice grip. Panic flooded through her veins. The Briar Witch lowered her hood, revealing milky gray eyes and a sunken face. The tips of thorns outlined her eyebrows and the back of her knuckles.
“Such power you have, sweet meat. Such delicious power gifted by the moon. You hide behind enchantments, but I can see your beauty and youth. If you seek what is mine, then I’ll trade for what is yours. Black clovers for all …” She ran a nail down Lucenna’s cheek, pulling down the sash. “That you have.”
