Simmer: Or, The Second Life of Callis Wardwell, Witch

PART 1: WAKING THE WITCH

Part 1: WAKING THE WITCH

The bowing downe her aged backe, she kist

The wicked witch, saying; In that faire face

The false resemblance of Deceipt, I wist

Did closely lurke; yet so true-seeming grace

It carried, that I scarse in darkesome place

Could it discerne, though I the mother bee

Of falshood, and root of Duessaes race.

O welcome child, whom I haue longd to see,

And now haue seene vnwares. Lo now I go with thee.

--- The Faerie Queene

---

The widow went out to get her body.

This wretched village, Honora thought as she snuck along the shadowed lanes, just after three bells. They'd slaughtered her in front of her daughter– and then, after all that, they still didn't have the decency to bury her? What were they worried was going to happen? Was she going to curse them from beyond the grave? Bite them or burn them? They would deserve it, frankly.

But the villagers and their failings were predictable. So, she'd do it. Honora, the vilified village widow, the wicked stepmother. She supposed there were few more fitting people to bury a witch. And her sneaking around at night had made her ideal for it. It wouldn't be easy, or dignified– Callis was a tall lady, and not light– but Honora owed it to her.

Biting her lip, she crossed the silent square, stooped down–

"Honora."

Honora gave a little shriek and toppled into the dirt.

"Shush!" snarled Callis– Callis's body? Callis? She was–

Alive?

"Oh my god!"

"Shut up!"

Honora clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. Slowly, she removed it.

"How..." she began.

"Sophie and Agatha aren't the only ones who went to the fucking magic school." hissed Callis. "You saw what I did. Help me."

"I... oh, Callis, oh my god..."

"You said you knew I was magic!"

"Not– not that magic! You faked your death!"

"Didn't fake this damn broken ankle, though." snarled Callis. "Completely shattered. I need to fix it."

"I'm not sure I can get you back up to Graves Hill..."

Callis licked her ashen lips, considering.

"There's a back way, less steep. I used to take it when I had to carry Agatha."

"Did Agatha escape?" Honora whispered. "With that handsome boy?"

"She better have, for all the effort that cost me." muttered Callis. "For god's sake, he better make her Queen of the world, now..."

"Was he really a prince?" said Honora eagerly. Callis shot her a withering look and she winced, chastened, and slung the bundle of sticks and cloth off her back. "Sorry. So, look, this is sort of like a stretcher– er–"