“Because this wouldn’t be hard to do a year ago,” I say. Now, the boy is more than just a figment or an idea. He’s become the Warlock’s heart and soul. He’sLazlo.
The Witch nods. “After spending a year raising that boy, giving him up is not easy, is it? Your parents failed to respect the consequences of their choice. I want you to understand what you risk losing if you abuse magic. It’s as you said. The second chance you want can only come from making a better choice than they did.”
With surprising swiftness, she shuffles to a breadbox on the counter and returns with a slip of paper.
“You’ll have to complete the reversal spell yourselves, alongside the boy. Do it before the sun sets on your birthday, Knight, and you’ll see your next sunrise.”
“Will my power return then?” he asks.
“If you want it to, it will,” she hums. “Probably.”
Helpful.
“And how am I to perform this spell without any magic?” he retorts, but his usual pessimism doesn’t have any bite, the words slurring. I frown with concern.
“You don’t.” She hands over the spell—to me. “She does. This is amemory spell. It will find an errant soul and send it home. That boy is no more than a memory that needs to go home.”
My frown deepens. “I don’t understand. Incantations aren’t the kind of magic I do. I only see memories with food.”
She snorts. “And this spell needs someone with memory magic to recite it. It will work.”
“I’m just a Farewitch,” I protest. A pretty good one, I’ve realized, but surely there’s someone with more power, better suited for this job.
“Perhaps, child. But you’re therightFarewitch.”
After hesitating, I take the spell, the paper like a little white flag in my hands.
“However,” the Witch adds, “I can’t reverse what is happening to your mother.”
The ice in the corners of the cottage creeps in, dampening the already moldy space. My body tenses, like I’m freezing all over again as I wait for her to go on.
“What took your grandmother, now your mother—it’s no spell or curse. All of us Witches must pay something for our magic, and your family seems to pay with your health. Your best chance at helping her is with one of your recipes. My advice for you is the same: Learn from her mistake before it’s too late for you.”
For a brief moment, I drift outside my body, watch myself nod. I’m not surprised, though it still doesn’t hurt any less.
The Warlock places an invisible hand over mine. Squeezes with the gentle fingers of someone who handles the most delicate of tiny blooms. The only thing that keeps me from falling apart right here is the void of air where his forearm should be. He’s fading faster.
Outside, the hounds begin to howl.
The Witch looks to the window. “If you two are going to make it before tomorrow evening, you best get. Now. Don’t you dare ask me for a portal, Knight. Your tab is closed.”
“And if we don’t make it?”
“Then the world has one less grumpy old man.”
Said man lets out an indignant huff that’s closer to a growl.
I’m already in motion, packing our things. The task keeps me from thinking too hard about everything I stand to lose. But before I leave, I need to know.
“Why did you start disappearing spouses in the first place?” I ask as I tuck her spell safely into my pack. Her own great-granddaughter’s husband, too.
Feral delight sparks in her eyes. “I don’t go after partners, child. I go after people who ask me to grant them their desires and then refuse to pay the cost for them. The husbands you see disappearing are just men who have made poor deals with me. Though, bad husbands don’t just go away, and divorce was shunned in my time. Those nasty natural causes—men are so terrible at aging, aren’t they…”
“Where did they all go?” I sputter.What did you do with them?
“Oh, they’ll find their way back eventually. Maybe.” She shrugs. “These days, it’s enough for me to just threaten the rotten ones. They run off on their own.”
“Then why let folks make all the awful rumors about you?”
