Page 58 of Bewitched By the Djinn
The air thickens, colder, heavier, charged with energy that crawls along my skin.
Ahead, a blue glow flickers in the darkness.
The tunnel widens into a huge cavern, damp and echoing. Twin lanterns float overhead, casting long, flickering shadows over the figures dominating the center of the space.
Three figures, to be exact, hooded and shrouded in darkness, sitting on carved stone seats facing us. Their features are hidden in the depths of their deep black cloaks, the bottoms brushing against the ground in a rumpled heap.
“You seek something.”
The voice is unlike anything I’ve ever heard. The pitch is somehow high and low all at once. Not masculine or feminine but both and nothing all together. It’s not one voice but many,layered one over the other, thick with age and time and wisdom, so ancient it makes my teeth ache.
Bennet steps forward. “I’m looking for my sister, Helen. We traced her magic here. Can you help us find her?”
Silence stretches. Then the one in the center lifts a hand, pale and thin, and points at Bennet. “All knowledge has a cost.”
Of course.
Bennet tenses. “What’s the price?”
The witches don’t answer immediately. Instead, the one on the right tilts its head, then the voices speak again. “You walk between worlds, tethered to another.”
A chill rolls down my spine.
The one on the left turns, the blackness under the hood of the cloak facing us. “Yes. An unusual bond. One that weakens and strengthens in equal measure.”
Enough with the cryptic bullshit already. “What do you want?”
The figures still. Then, in unison, “An offering. Something cherished.”
My stomach dips. “What does that mean?”
“A piece of your past. A tether to what once was. Freely given, never returned.”
Bennet’s hand lifts to the chain around his neck.
“No,” I whisper, realizing a beat after he does.
“You want this?” He pulls the chain over his head, revealing the delicate gold ring that hangs from it. Simple, worn smooth with time.
The center figure inclines its head. “It belonged to your mother. It carries memory. Love. Loss. That is the price.”
I glance at Bennet, hoping he’ll refuse. But he’s already holding the ring in his palm, the chain dangling through his fingers. He hesitates. Just for a second. Then he steps forward and extends the ring toward them. “Take it.”
The tallest figure reaches out, long fingers brushing his as it accepts the ring. For a moment, Bennet’s eyes flutter shut.
The figures sit back. “The debt is paid.”
The center one lifts both hands wide in the air.
A large, glowing map forms above the witches, lines of streets and wisps of buildings and the blue glow of water. It’s New Orleans, taking a shimmering form. Then a single dot pulses in gold near the Garden District.
“There.” Bennet steps forward, studying it.
You’ve got to be kidding me. “That’s literally right by where we just were.”
The figure closes its hands. The map vanishes.
“Why is she there?”
