Page 86 of Night of the Witch
I lean back against the tree trunk and notice that Fritzi has stopped to watch our strange showdown with an unabashed smile on her face.
“It’s not made of the finest Venetian glass,” I mutter with a shrug.
Fritzi grins as she bends down and sets the wooden horse upright. “It’s dear.”
Fritzi sits down between us. When Liesel thinks my attention is on her cousin, she reaches out, grabs the little toy, and stuffs it into her skirt pocket. Fritzi and I both pretend not to notice.
For the first time, there’s a light of joy in Fritzi’s eyes.
But it quickly fades.
“We need to talk.” Fritzi’s voice is quiet, but it pulls both my and Liesel’s attention directly to her.
“About your”—I can barely say it—“Brother.”
Fritzi folds her hands in her lap and doesn’t look away. “Yes,” she says simply.
“Why did he want to kill you so much?” I ask, unable to wrap my head around such depravity. He kept Liesel alive, torturing her to force her to use her magic, but he was going to kill Fritzi. He didn’t want to use her. Why?
Pain flickers behind Fritzi’s eyes. “He believes that great acts of evil feed his power. My death would have made him stronger.”
There’s so much I want to ask: H—how does that work? Why is he so hungry for more power, especially as he’d kept it hidden for so long? But I look at Liesel, at the tears stinging her eyes, and I remember that this is their family member. That he would have killed Fritzi, and likely Liesel too, after he was done with her, despite their blood bonds.
Their fury is encased in sorrow.
“Rather than talk about your brother,” I say, “let’s talk about my sister.”
“Is she a witch too?” Liesel asks innocently.
“No.”
“Pity,” Liesel says.
“I accidentally sent her…elsewhere,” Fritzi says. She fills in her cousin quickly, giving her the rough details of the past days.
“A protection spell shouldn’t have done that to someone,” Liesel says.
“There’s something wrong with my magic.” Fritzi’s voice drops. “It was stronger than it should have been with Otto’s sister. It didn’t act as I meant for it to in the house fort either.”
“And your protection potion deflected Bertram’s blade too,” I add.
“It can’t do that.” Liesel pointedly speaks only to Fritzi, mostly ignoring me.
“But it did,” Fritzi says. “Have you noticed that? Magic…stronger than it should be?”
Liesel cuts her eyes at me. She doesn’t like speaking about magic in front of someone who still, even under the grime, looks like a hexenjäger. She pulls Fritzi’s ear down, whispering something to her, and whatever she says makes Fritzi’s grim face fill with sorrow and worry.
“Do you think you can do a little?” Fritzi asks her cousin.
Liesel nods tightly.
“Let’s start nearby. There was someone I met in the prison. His name was Jochen.”
Liesel mounds some dry, dead leaves in front of her. The tinderbox flashes; a spark ignites.
“He’s out of the tunnels.” Liesel mutters. “Jochen. Wearing a hood. There’s chaos in the streets.”
Perfect. That’s exactly what I’d hoped for.
