To Kill a Witch (ONC 2024 SHORTLIST)

Chapter 3

This side of the town was quiet.

Even the poorest, ramshackle houses, still with thatch on their roofs, didn't quite stretch this far. They stopped at the very top of the road, encircled by a low rise of gorse bushes and an iron fence. The bushes were a good deterrent, but the cracks that ran around the edges of the town broke the earth around their roots and pushed the iron pegs of the fence into a drunken slant. They leant against each other, two wizened soldiers, gnarled with age, true survivors. Defending their homes with nothing but a defiant snarl.

Thea paused before the fence. There was no gate — no one in their right mind would dare entertain such a weak spot. The defences weren't always enough on their own. Thea kept her hand on the handle of Ridoc's dagger. She'd stopped to grab one of his tunics and a coat before she'd left, fastening the dagger to her belt with her teeth and some string, and been out again before Mam had sent anyone looking. If her wild plan worked, she would make it back in time to see the magic leave Ridoc. If it didn't... she would be waiting to meet him in the next world.

She narrowed her eyes, glaring down the dirt lane. The cracks kept away the grasses on either side, keeping it curiously neat and pristine. She couldn't remember crossing over the last time... but then, her mind had formed a sort of block over that night, erasing the full details from her memory. All she had was the smell of blood and the sound of voices, calling her name. Thea sucked in an uncertain breath, and swung a leg over the fence.

She braced herself, expecting for something to erupt out of the ground and lunge for her. She was armed, but she wasn't sure she'd be able to defend herself any better than the Watchers had. When nothing happened, she dragged her other leg over, flinching when her boot thudded against the fence. She knelt to pull the picket back into place.

She rose. At the very end of the lane, there was a house. It was frighteningly similar to the Montgomery's family's home, with two floors and a front-facing window. She squinted, but there was no smoke coming out of the chimney. Thea couldn't think of a time when there hadn't been strange-smelling smoke this side of the town. When she had been much younger, when the Witch was still mostly a story, Pa had taken her down to the fence edge, and she'd remembered being able to taste the smoke, herbs and something sweet that had made her mouth water.

Why is she hiding in there, when that tastes so good?

People don't like magic much anymore, Tea.

Thea felt her cheeks grow hot at her little self, standing with her hand tucked in Pa's, shivering and happy and small. She'd been entranced by the idea of magic back then. She'd been a fool. It hadn't been much longer before the smoke began to stink of evil, and the deaths had started.

She's hiding in there.

Thea squared her shoulders and walked down the path, keeping to the middle, away from the looming trees and their hungry shadows. Her hand shook on the handle of the dagger. Better the Witch saw her coming than let the wood take her.

She reached the house without anything attempting to kill her. She pressed herself up against the wall, her heart too loud in her head. She skittered along the side to the window, pressed her shoulder under the windowsill and levered herself up.

The inside of the Witch's house was dark. Thea pressed her face to the glass, trying to see, but she couldn't make out anything beyond the outline of a lantern set right before the window. She drew the dagger, held it sideways on, and swung.

The heavy end of the handle broke the glass. Thea dropped to her knees, forehead pressed against the lip, waiting for someone to respond to the sudden shattering. Nothing happened. Gritting her teeth, she knocked out the last few shards in the panel.