“Fine, take me to her.”
Not even the slightest grin or hint of surprise touched his face as he replied, “Very good. This way.”
The short blocks to the witch’s shop passed in no time at all. She could have sworn the market was farther away, but no matter how deliberately slow her steps, Executus never left her side. Nor did she spot any familiar faces along the way. By all the revered elders, she must be desperate, hoping to see Hook’s face. So many days she’d longed to leave him in the past, but right now, he was all she wanted.
The shop was dark and cramped as before, though not so hot, and the horrid, bitter smell that caused her sneezing was blessedly absent—or masked by one of the other myriad pungent scents that suffocated the room. Some were familiar: vinegar, sage, dried spore root. Others, not so much.
“This way. Don’t keep her waiting,” Executus said, a splash of annoyance coloring his words, as he led her through the heavy curtains behind the counter and up a set of creaking, musty stairs. Dark-paneled walls closed in around her like a coffin as she ascended to the second floor. Why, oh why, did humans prefer such cloistered homes? Everything in this place was dead, wrong. Even the bundles of herbs hanging from the ceiling in the main shop were dried and crumbling.
All that changed when Executus pushed back another set of heavy, crimson curtains. Plant life filled this room, climbing along the walls, pressing up against the ceiling, overflowing clay pots, and spilling off tabletops barely visible beneath the mass of greens and browns, some spotted with colorful flowers or with leaves tinted unusual shades like violet or pale blue. Tink’s body hummed with the thrum of life echoing here, so different than the rest of the place. For a moment, she could delude herself that she’d stepped back into a glen in the Sylvanna Vale. Even a few birds called out in squawks and chirps where they perched among the tropical indoor forest.
A room so full of life, and yet the sun didn’t touch it. Only well-placed oil lamps lit the shadowed greenery.How in the name of—
“Thank you, Executus.”
Tink yelped, jumping back and nearly bumping into the shopkeep as she struggled to locate the source of the voice. Her heart thundered in her chest when she caught sight of a short woman standing among the plants. Silky locks, dark as midnight and streaked with silver like rare falling stars, floweddown her body, nearly concealing a dress of dark green. But it wasn’t the sight of her—how had she missed her before?—that caused a reply to catch in her throat. A brown snake, longer than the woman was tall, twined around her arms and over her shoulders.
“Have a seat, my dear.” She gestured to a simple wooden chair facing the table in front of her. “That’ll be all.” With a wave, she dismissed Executus. Only a light flutter of fabric signaled his departure.
Everything in her rebelled against taking that seat.Nope. No. This was a huge mistake. That snake would eat her alive inch by precious inch, and no one would ever find her. Hook would assume she’d run away to retrieve the scale on her own despite their promise to the queen. He’d follow, determined to break his curse, only to run aground in the Shrouded Isles, Captain Blackbeard’s cannons hammering the hull, and—
Tink shook herself. Why was she worried about him? Shouldn’t she worry about herself? Her parents, who likely mourned her as dead? Lily, who would never know what happened to her missing cousin and how much she cared?
“You’re an interesting one.” The voice wrapped around her, echoing through her mind.
She twisted toward its source.
The witch grinned at her as she stroked the snake’s head with motherly affection. “Take a seat. Or aren’t you curious why I asked you here?”
“Why did you?”
“It’s not often I find another of my own kind.”
Tink gaped. “You’re a—” Her mouth opened and closed, the word lost.
“A pixie. Yes.” She rolled her shoulders, and dull wings previously hidden fluttered behind her. They were sad, dim things, like dusty spiderwebs. “I know,” she said with a frown.“Not what they once were. But you…I’d wager yours are still quite bright.”
“How do you know that?” She crept to the chair, lured by the witch’s knowledge.
“Time teaches many things.” The witch took a seat on her side of the table—too close, with the snake flicking his tongue in the air between them. “Sit.”
Tink swallowed and sat, her palms clutching the wood for dear life. “The sneezing fit.”
The witch grinned. “Very good. Yes, the dried draka kelp confirmed my suspicions after I saw you enter the shop with—well, I wouldn’t say yourfriends. No, my dear, you seemed rather uncomfortable, am I right?”
That was the shop’s fault.Mostly. Maybe. “Why did you ask me here?”
The witch sighed, a slight pout to her lips. She was a beauty, one who carried her curves with style and elegance. Not even the telltale marks of age that touched her skin and hair could diminish that. “So eager to leave. I thought it might be nice to have some company. Why linger with pirates?”
“I…” Tink lifted her arm, letting the broken bracelet slide down to her hand. “If I help them, there may be a way for me to get home.”
“The elders are still close-minded, I see.” She rubbed her snake, right over where her own bracelet may once have been. “I could use the help of a fellow pixie. My wings grow weak, and I won’t be able to make pixie dust much longer. It’s essential for my spells, you see. But you, with the touch of the Sylvanna Vale still upon you, could help me with that. Surely the rumored Tinker Bell would sell her dust to a fellow pixie.”
Tink’s brows drew together. Dust for magic. How? A touch of home—? “Wait, how do you know my name?” She’d given Executus her name, but only Tink, not her full name.
The witch laughed, a scratchy, high sound. “You’ve earned quite the reputation recently, selling dust. So rebellious, industrious, and yet you want to go back to the vale?”
The chair might as well have fallen out from under her. She had a reputation? How? Sure, she’d sold dust, but almost all of that was to Captain Blackbeard to free Lily. The rest she’d sold in little batches, mainly to innkeepers for coin to stay afloat and buy passage to see Titania. It shouldn’t have been enough to earn a reputation. Unless the innkeepers were looser with their words than she thought.Ridiculous humans. Can’t trust any of them.
