I held my hands up.“We’re just going to ask about the weather, alright?You can tell them you're their long-lost grandson if you please, but only after we get our answer.”
“But—”
“Since when were you so keen on family anyway?”I asked.“Narcissa said you hated her when she came to live with you.”
Maddox huffed.“I was different back then.It’s true I didn’t want her around at first, but Father was happier.Maybe he’ll be happy to see his parents too.”
I made a noncommittal noise.There must have been a reason why Captain Greenwood left home, removed his magic, and never mentioned his parents, and it probably wasn’t one Maddox wanted to hear.
Eventually, a yellow cottage came into view.It would have blended in with the rest of the buildings if it weren’t for the stone tower jutting out of the shingled roof.The top of the tower was obscured by shadows.
I’d never been inside a weather witch’s tower, but I supposed it wasn’t anything special—only a structure that provided proximity to the village ceiling, bringing the witches closer to where they needed to conjure.
There were four towers total in the village, one in the north, south, east, and west points.This one was the east tower, in charge of light as the sun rose on this side.As the day passed and the sun migrated, the weather witches in the west tower would take over.The north and south towers were mainly in charge of atmosphere and air flow, but all four towers worked together in harmony.
The magic was mostly self-sufficient—a weather witch didn’t have to personally stand there to keep the weather running all day, but every so often, the enchantments would need to be recast.A fault in one would disrupt the entire web of carefully woven spells that provided Witch Village’s imitation of the world above.
“We’re here,” I told Maddox.
He lifted his lantern.We stood before the backyard of the cottage, which was encased in a rickety timber fence.A window was thrown wide open, revealing the inside of a modest kitchen.There was no light inside, but the lanterns outside illuminated a gas stove, which sat flush against the windowsill.A tall pot and a medium sized cauldron sat on the burners.One of them held a lumpy stew, the other was empty.
Below, on the patchy, sparse lawn, was a sprinkling of what looked like peanut shells.I nudged a few of them with my boot.It was rare for a witch to leave litter on her property.Unless the litter could double as fertilizer, which I supposed it could in this case.Maddox stepped forward, but I grabbed the back of his waistcoat to pull him back.
“Peanuts,” I warned.The last thing I needed was him keeling over because of his allergy.
We rounded the cottage.The front lawn was equally unimpressive, but free of peanut shells.
“Doesn’t seem like anyone is home,” I said.
“Should we go knock?”
I looked to Maddox and gestured to the fence.He stepped forward and unlatched it.The door barely swung out before he was promptly struck down by a flash of blue light.His lantern crashed to the ground and sputtered out.
I covered my mouth with my hands.A jinxed entrance!Only the most reclusive of witches would have one, especially those who isolated themselves from the rest of the village.The most common were wart jinxes that made the trespasser break out into large, lumpy warts that couldn’t be removed for weeks.Another kind was an itching jinx, which functioned the same as the wart jinx, though in my opinion, was a thousand times worse.
“Maddox, are you alright?”I asked warily.
His silhouette moved as he righted himself.
“My...my breeches are gone,” Maddox said in a small voice.
“Good riddance.”A trouser-stealing jinx!That was perhaps the most humiliating jinx to ever exist—though luckily very easily remedied.I looked up, unsurprised to see a clothesline stretching from a second story window to a small tree in the yard.Maddox’s breeches bobbed gently from the line, next to a hideous patchwork skirt and another pair of trousers.Trophies from previous victims.
“Help,” Maddox squeaked.
I fumbled under the waistband of my skirt and counted two petticoats.Quickly, I unfastened the ties of one and let it drop to the ground.Hopefully no one decided to look out their window at that moment.
“Here.”I bunched up the thin cotton lawn and tossed it over the fence.
Shuffling ensued.“Giselle, is this askirt?”
“Yes, it is.Apologies for not having a gentleman’s wardrobe on me at all times,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“You literally have a bottomless bag!”
“I don’t have breeches in them,” I protested, tugging at my satchel strap.I squinted over the fence and caught a glimpse of pale legs as Maddox stepped awkwardly into the petticoat.The rest, thankfully, was covered by his shirt.I slapped a hand over my eyes.“Hurry and dress.”
Maddox groaned.“How does this thing work?”
