Page 21 of Spellcast
My head shot up from where it rested on my bent knees, my gaze sharpening on her. “What was that?”
Not sparing me a glance, she went on, “I know everyone says you are...and it is accepted as truth.” She paused a long time, her needles working as she knitted. “But I don’t believe it.”
No mistake. She was talking about me.
Tome?
“Maretta?” I whispered, my heart pounding with excitement.
She studied her work. “A witch claimed you, but that does not mean you are dead.”
I sat up as though electrified. She was speaking to me! “You’re right! I am not dead. I’m here.” I exhaled. “I knew someone would eventually see me. I knew it!” It only made sense that it would be Maretta, the wise old healer who saw things other people did not.
She continued knitting, staring down at her work.
After a few moments of silence, I moved onto my knees before her. “Maretta?”
She didn’t look up, simply went on working her needles.
Frowning, I bent at the waist and snapped my fingers, waving a hand in front of her face. “Maretta?”
Nothing.
No reaction.
I was wrong. She didn’t see me.
I released a deflated breath. She was simply talking to herself again, doing the very thing I did these days—speaking into the void.
“They still believe something got you and dragged you off.” She shook her scarved head. “I’ve told them, but these fools would rather stick their heads in the sand. They don’t want to believe it’s true.” She clucked her tongue. “Wolves, they say.Hmpf.No wolves got to you.Sheis out there. I still feel her.”
She.The witch.I still feel her.A long scratch of nails dragged down my spine at that.
Maretta could feel the witch who did this to me? I trembled with excitement and something else. As much as I needed this reassurance, to know that my searching wasn’t completely in vain, anxiety shot through me.
Again, like she could hear the myriad questions racing through my mind, she spoke over the pop and crackle of the fire in the hearth.
“You simply stumbled too close to the flame, my dear girl. It could have happened to any one of us. You won’t be the last one. There will be others out there who fall victim to her power like you did.”
I leaned close to speak near her ear. “I’m not gone. I’m closer than you think.” Maretta looked up, her eyes fixing on my face. My breath caught. We gazed at each other. I could see the tiny hairs jutting from the dark pores of her nose. “Maretta?”
Perhaps she did know I was here? On some level? Did a part of her sense me? She knew so much about so many things. She could hold this knowledge, too...innately, buried away so deeply even she did not realize it. Perhaps she possessed this knowing because she herself had a bit of witch in her—the legacy from an ancestorfrom long ago, forgotten, but whose magic still whispered in her marrow. Perhaps that was why she lived to such an advanced age?
“Mayhap you’re trapped someplace,” she whispered. “Held by magic. A captive.”
Yes, yes, yes.
I felt those words like a touch. Hopeful and encouraging. They fueled me. Fed me with renewed purpose, chasing away some of the disappointment I’d felt leaving the woods today with nothing to show for my efforts.
I’d invited magic in the door foolishly that cold winter night, and it had answered my call.
A witch had done this, so she could undo it. I only needed to find her and make that happen. I’d found her once without even trying. Or rather she had found me. If I kept trying, I would find her eventually. I had to.
9
Sixteen
Day 464
