Page 61 of Night of the Witch
“There are certainly worse ways to die,” he says, then inhales sharply. “I didn’t mean—that came out wrong.”
My body tenses, my eyelids pinching shut tighter, and I hold there, in silence, letting the quiet swallow his words, the memory they stoke.
I will not think about her body tied to the stake.
I will not think about how agonizing a death that was for her.
The light is still pulsing beyond my eyelids. The kapitän hasn’t turned down the lantern yet.
“You need me to sing you a bedtime song?” I try to make it come out short, but it’s just as brittle as everything in me suddenly feels.
A huff comes in response, followed by the light fading, until all is darkness, even when I open my eyes. I gasp in it, shocked by the depth of this black, though I shouldn’t be—there are no windows in this part of the house fort, no slivers of moonlight pushing in—
“How many stars are in the sky?” the kapitän suddenly sings, a soft, pitchy croon.
My whole body goes tense, face contorting in an expression of amused horror that gets lost in the darkness. “What are you singing?”
“A lullaby.” A beat. “Do you not know that one? I thought it was rather popular.”
“I—I know it. But—”
“I assumed you asking me if I needed a bedtime song was a thinly veiled request for one.How many stars are in the sky?” he sings again.
I shove my hands over my mouth, but it does nothing to stifle my sudden fit of laughter. “What are you—”
“How many—don’t make me sing the same verse again. You said you knew this one. It’s a call and response.”
“I am not singing with you, jäger.”
“How are we to sleep?” he asks, voice hung with mock sincerity.
I flop onto my side, but I can’t see him in the dark. “You’re mad. Utterly.”
I swear I can feel his grin in the darkness. And the sensation of him smiling in this space of sightlessness but being unable to see it is unbearably intimate, shaking down through my core in a relentless quiver.
With a defeated sigh, I give in. “Count them all as we fly by.”
“How many clouds will come at dawn?” he sings back immediately.
“Count until we start to yawn. All right, I am sufficiently tired, I think. Gute Nacht, you crazed man.”
The kapitän chuckles. The low, deep rumble of his laughter palpitates the air, and I’m glad I ended this back and forth, because I’m not sure I can draw in enough breath to speak.
“Gute Nacht,” he whispers in return.
My fingers bleed.
I tear at the dirt wall of the cellar, rocks and knobs of mud raining down in my attempt, but no matter how I climb, I never get to the opening just above, just out of reach.
“Mama!” I scream.“Mama—”
She appears there. In the square of light.
“Friederike,” she says, and my heart swells to bursting at the love in her voice. I can barely see her face—the light behind her is too bright.
“Give me your hand!” I slip a little, sliding down the cellar wall, and when I look, I can’t see the bottom, the floor long gone; maybe it was never there at all. “Help me!Please, Mama—”
“Help you?” She rocks back on her heels. “Why on earth would I help you? You let him in, Friederike. You did this.”
