Page 6 of Caught in the Devil’s Hand

A smile melted onto Majo’s face. “If you like.”

She raised the cup to her lips and took a small sip. Its smooth taste was a surprise. Whenever other villagers drank rice wine, they always winced after swallowing. “It’s wonderful,” she said, thoroughly enjoying the small flare of heat spreading inside her. Preening, the witch said her thanks.

When Shumei had finished her serving, she set down the cup and reached into her pouch to retrieve the largest packet, which was filled with roots, small bags of medicinal powders, and bundles of herbs. She laid it in front of Majo, who picked it up with yet another smile and inspected its contents.

“Wonderfully prepared, as usual,” she praised, setting it aside. Moving with enviable grace, she then went to the chest in the corner and unlocked it with a small key she kept inside the belt of her dress. The heavy bag she retrieved was no doubt filled with more money than Shumei could ever hope to have. Majo counted out the payment and locked the chest again before returning to sit on the cushion.

“Hold out your hand, dear,” she said. Shumei did so, bowing her head without thought. Twenty-five kols spilled into her hand, eight kols more than the expected fee. Shumei stared at the three coins in her hand with disbelief.

“For trying my wine and always doing such a wonderful job with my order, I wanted to give you a tip this week. Save it for yourself, okay?”

Shumei’s eyes stung, and though she was grateful, she couldn’t help feeling suspicious, which only made her feel worse. Majo was a crow like her and had always been generous. But Shumei just couldn’t shake the feeling the witch’s generosity, if accepted, came with a price. But what else could she do but accept what little kindness was given her?

With a quiet thank-you, Shumei put the money away and set her satchel aside. Majo poured more wine. “Have another before you leave,” she said, holding the cup out. Bowing her head yet again, Shumei accepted a second serving and brought it to her lips. She took larger sips this time and marveled at how light the wine made her head feel.

“It really is delicious. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

The witch smiled again, a little too slowly. Shumei couldn’t help noting the direction of Majo’s gaze: Shumei’s chest. Glancing down, she wondered if she had spilled the wine, but there were no wet spots on her clothes.

“I wonder why you haven’t yet purchased yourself new shoes, Shumei. You have enough money to afford a pair, don’t you? I hate to see your pretty feet in the mud all the time.”

Shumei curled her toes self-consciously, lamenting how calloused and dirty her soles had become since outgrowing her old pair of shoes. She wordlessly set down her empty cup.

“Oh, don’t worry too much about it, dear. Though I do hope you use my tip to buy some shoes, I’ll be happy as long as you use the money on yourself.”

“Yes, madam,” she murmured. She felt strange—in more ways than one. She was certain she was a little drunk, but more than that, she had grown reluctant to leave. Yes, she was dressed far more poorly than her host, but here she was warm and receiving small but highly appreciated gifts. She thought of her sick family at home, and guilt pulled her shoulders into a slouch.

“Shumei?” Majo softly called. She had leaned forward, hands out. Looking up with a bit of a start, Shumei straightened. Then her jaw dropped, for Majo cupped Shumei’s breasts as casually as if shaking her hand.

Shumei was so shocked she couldn’t move. All she could do was sit there while Majo tested the weight and shape of her breasts with the same sort of thoughtful and determined expression one would see from a physician.

The witch lifted her gaze to Shumei’s stunned reaction and gave her a sly smile. “Does this feel good?” she whispered, brushing her thumbs over Shumei’s nipples. At last, Shumei was galvanized to push the woman’s hands away. Face red, she wrapped her arms around her chest and turned away.

“Why did you do that?” Shumei asked, voice shaking. Majo hadn’t hurt her. In fact, the revulsion she felt around Kimen and Akiji was absent, but the witch had never given her any indication of such…interest before, and it had completely blindsided her.

“You’re going to be twenty soon, right?” Majo asked. Shumei nodded. “Then no doubt the leader and his wife have mentioned marriage.”

“Yes, not even an hour ago.”

Majo sighed. “They will probably force you to choose that bully, Akiji. He may declare his love for you, but he only wants one thing from you. You know that, right?”

Shumei did know and swallowed her unspoken anxieties. Like all young, unmarried people, she was quite curious about “the marital act.” She had heard of a body part on men that moved on its own, and positions the couple assumed. She wondered how much of it was true. Her mother had never explained much, and she had never felt she could ask.

“Why do I have to marry?” She sank into herself as sadness settled over her, and stared at a candle in the corner, its flame steady in the still air.

“No doubt they hope you’ll soon be with child. Another crow for them to exploit.”

“Is that why you refused a husband?”

“I had…many reasons.”

Shumei rubbed her arms, gaze falling away from the candle. She could now guess at least a couple of those reasons.

“You should be going now,” Majo said, dress rustling as she stood. “Your family is waiting for you, right?” Shumei grabbed her medicine pouch and stood. Though she faced the witch, she couldn’t look her in the eye and instead stared at the floor. “The same order for next week will be fine, dear.” Majo folded her hands together as if she were as proper as any other matronly villager.

“Yes, madam,” she said, backing up to the door.

“Oh, and Shumei?” the witch called. Shumei made the mistake of looking up. “If you ever want me to touch your pretty breasts again, come by anytime. I can do that and much more,” she said with a wicked grin, stroking her hand over her hip. Taken aback, Shumei could only stutter. She flung the door open and made a hasty exit. The last thing she heard before shutting the witch’s door was lilting laughter.