Witch Doctors Inc: SEASON ONE (Completed!)

Part 4.13

I wish that accursed, frogbrained cat was here. I could do with some advice, even if it had to come out of his smug mouth. Was he really in Sactaphrane, meeting with the griffin king? I mean, he can teleport I guess. (Something he still hasn't taught me, by the way). He wouldn't have to brave the Deadly Desert to get there, which is what puts most people off. And he did get the griffin's tears for the curse indicator spell.

Thing is, there was still this reluctance about him. I don't know what it was exactly. A slight stiffening of the tail, a swift shadow passing though his pupils? He didn't want to come here, to Tyfyr House.

The inside of Tyfyr House has a muted elegance to it. It's untouched by sunlight, and lit mostly by candles.

"The Historical Society of Kadrea has maintained it for centuries," the guide tells us proudly.

They've done a good job. Only the style of furniture speaks to Tyfyr House's age. Its spacious halls gleam with polished wood and dust-free chandeliers. Anything that couldn't be given new shine, such as old upholstery and curtains, has been replaced.

It's the portraits that make me uncomfortable. The duchess's portraits especially, and those of the eldest daughter Lady Alicia. I have this insane feeling there's a consciousness there, a dark truth behind their still eyes. It's like they're pulling me into their moment, to an answer that once breathed, an answer frozen and lost.

"It's going to take forever to get to the attic," Addy whispers to me. "She's saving the best for last. Everyone wants to see the attic."

Ahead of us, two teenage girls are arguing about the existence of the Dark Witch. "It's fun, but it's probably not real," one is saying.

"It is real," the other responds stubbornly. "You'll feel it when we get to the attic."

I don't want to see the attic. I have to. My responsibility to Amanda runs deeper than that of clinician to client. If the Dark Witch cast the curse afflicting her, I have to reverse it. Because I am the Dark Witch.

*

The guide turns the key in the lock. I brace myself to be proven wrong. Amanda certainly seemed like she was turning into a doll. And those dolls in my memory did look like the Tyfyr family. I've seen enough of their portraits now to know it. The guide's assertion doesn't feel like a leap anymore.

I step into candlelit gloom. The attic looks like someone's bedroom. There's a rickety bed to one side, its headboard missing one corner. Two mildewed sofas sit facing each other. They must have been white once. There's a stain in the wood between them in the shape of a rug.

The guide puts a finger to her lips. Behind a red velvet rope is a dresser. Five dolls rest at its feet.

Nausea grips me.

I see them, misshapen.

Crying out in agony.

They are not dolls.

They are people.

Sobbing floats into a gloom lit by web of glistening black thread. The thread pools from a spinning wheel, rising into the air and waiting, undulating, then drifting slowly towards a lattice of dark magic.

Translucent fingernails tap at the spindle. Behind a black hood, emerald eyes burn. I know the person at the spinning wheel. And I know what she is weaving.

The eyes spark with laughter. The figure raises its head. "Hello, Lily," it says.