Page 130 of Night of the Witch
“Otto, a potion is not merely a mixture of ingredients. The spell must be spoken, and—” Cornelia starts.
I ignore the rest of her protests as I pour the brew through a funnel into Hilde’s bottle. The hot liquid burns my hands, but I stow it in a pouch Hilde offers.
I tie the bag securely closed and glance up and see Liesel watching me. I have come to know the girl as well as I know my sister, and I recognize the look in her eyes, the slow nod of approval.
I straighten and look at Cornelia, who is still protesting this plan. “Fritzi knows the spell,” I say. “I spoke to her about it before, in Trier. Iknowshe knows the spell. All you have to do is get me to her, and she can complete the potion. We will be bonded, and together, we will have enough power to kill Dieter.”
The bag weighs heavily on my shoulder, but I do not flinch as I meet Cornelia’s eyes. Liesel steps a little closer to me, slipping her hand into mine.
“Potions donotwork like that,” Cornelia says in a low voice, but there is doubt.
“Magic isn’t working the way it should,” I remind her, pointing to Hilde, who was spirited away here in an explosion of power that belied Fritzi’s intent. “It’s worth it to try.”
“We have to go,” Brigitta says. She moves closer to Cornelia. “Let him have hope, even if it is false.” Her voice is a low whisper; she did not intend for me to hear, so I pretend that I didn’t.
I don’t know why I don’t tell them what my real plan is. I just keep thinking of the way Fritzi was furious at the council, the way her expectations for the haven of the Well, the safety of the goddesses, were belied.Magic is not always the only answer, even if none of these witches can see it.
Hilde whips her head around to me, concern flashing on her face. I give her a silent look. In a house like our father’s, we both learned to communicate without words. She frowns but accepts the way I shake my head, telling her:Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.
Cornelia sighs, defeated, then turns and leaves Hilde’s cottage with a swish of her robes.
“Be safe,” Hilde tells me, wrapping me in a hug made awkward by the way Liesel refuses to relinquish my hand. My sister turns to Brigitta. “And you too. Be safe.” She stands on her tiptoes to give her a kiss. As they break apart, my sister shoots me a questioning look, and I grin back at her, thrilled to see her so in love.
I crouch in front of Liesel. “You stay with my sister. You can trust her. I will bring Fritzi back to you.”
Liesel nods. I know she wants to come with us, but she is still a child. And I cannot live with the idea of allowing her to fight.
“And you bring Otto back to me,” Hilde murmurs to Brigitta. The other woman chuckles, her lips on Hilde’s neck, but Hilde pulls back, stands on her tiptoes, and whispers urgently into her lover’s ear. Brigitta’s eyes snap to me, so I have little doubt my sister was speaking about me.
As soon as Brigitta and I exit the cottage, I turn to her. “How are we going to get from here back to Baden-Baden in time?” I ask, a new worry twisting inside me.
“Do not fear,” Brigitta says, her lips carving into a smile. “Transportation is the least of our worries.”
41
FRITZI
Darkness shatters like I broke the surface of a lake. I gasp, chest screaming and arms aching, eyes flaring open in a wild panic.
“Shh, Fritzichen. Shh. You’ve been out for quite a while.”
A hand pats my cheek. My sight is blurry, and I will it to clear, wild terror making every rational thought scatter. I am instinct only—I need to see. I need to see where I am.
My eyes focus.
Dieter is in front of me, reaching above us. I realize, then, that my hands are overhead too.
An iron lock clicks, and he steps back to survey his work. My wrists are in manacles fixed to chains that hang from the thick wooden beam of the ceiling, dangling me in the air.
Barbed terror burrows into my chest, and I throw my eyes around the room, desperate to focus, tobreathe.
A bedroom stretches around us, something opulent and ornate. A wide canopied bed towers in front of me, a roaring fireplace to my left,with a table to my right holding a steaming porcelain cup of tea and a tray of delicate springerle cookies by a window that shows buildings, houses, things I think I recognize—
He has not taken you far, says Holda.Fritzi, I’m so sorry. They’re coming to help you. I promise, they’re coming.
My head throbs, and I dip my chin to my chest, arms stretching painfully over me, the tips of my toes barely brushing the floor enough for me to keep weight off my wrists. I’m barefoot. Barefoot because I’d just been in the bathing pool with Otto.
A tear leaks down my cheek, and my eyes snap shut.
