I step forward. “Ready?”
He glowers at the door. A lot has changed since April, but his sullen scowl didn’t go anywhere. “No, but you’ve already knocked.”
When Gertha Fudge opens her door, she doesn’t immediately slam it, a positive sign this is already going better than it could have. Time to make amends. But based on her unblinking glare, she won’t be going first.
I’ll start. “Hello—”
“Go away. I’m busy making fudge.”
Ortryto make amends. The Warlock side-eyes me just long enough to mouth what looks likeI told you so.
Then to my surprise, he steps up. “Good evening, Ms. Fudge.”
“Don’tMs. Fudgeme, boy. Not after all these years. No matter what the DMV says, I can still see well enough to spot trouble miles away.” She points at me. “I knew you’d be a problem.”
I try again. “We noticed you weren’t with Oris Webb and his followers on the solstice.”
“What of it? Sending that tornado down on us—notmychurch, nossir. I knew something was out of sorts. That storm didn’t have the Widow Witch’s flare.”
She would know. “We met her,” I say. “Your great-grandmother.”
The Warlock takes a fortifying breath. “Ms. Fudge, I regret how you and I ended our last conversation. You only had your neighbors in mind, and I treated you unfairly.”
The old woman eyes him up and down. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you grew up.”
I think I hear a growl, so I grab his elbow, in case the old woman starts throwing hands. So much for positive thinking. “We need your help.”
“So I heard. Asking your neighbors for help.Imagine that.” Her tone shoves my confidence right through a meat grinder. Looking at the Warlock, she adds, “When someone extends a hand to help you now, do you take it?”
The Warlock glances at me. “I’m learning to.”
“You should’ve learned a long time ago.Bothof you.”
He stiffens. “Save your ire for me. Ms. Frost has been nothing but kind to you.”
“Kindness isn’t always rewarded. You would know that, Knight.”
“Kindness shouldn’t be given with the intention of exchange,Gertha.”
“Why—I will put you right, you hear?” She jabs a finger at him but looks to me. “I opened my home to this boy. But what did he do? Shunned me. The entire Holler.”
“Can you fault me? My family was gone. I was too angry to know any better.”
“And my own children were grown and gone. We could’ve looked out for each other. This town’s always hated Warlocks, and after the fire, that was your chance to change their minds, to show them you could be part of this community.”
“You could have asked me again later, when I was thinking properly—”
“Why would I? Where have you been when the Holler has needed help? You and that Letha Zeen, either of you.”
The Warlock’s voice sharpens to a threatening edge. “You may criticize me all you like, Ms. Fudge. But never Ms. Zeen.”
When I taste thyme, I plant myself between them. Why do people so love to be mad?
Then I remember—she never had a problem recalling the Warlock. With the chaos of the tornado, I completely forgot. “You’ve always been able to remember Mr. Knight. Not just the rumors, but details about him. His history.”
“Because of her bloodline,” the Warlock says. “Descendants of Hedgewitches can see through their family’s spells or illusions.”
Of course.
