Here there be witches, p.13
Here There Be Witches, page 13
As she left the blackness of the void, she stepped onto her new path, feeling reborn from her passage through the bowels of the earth. After a few more steps on the other side of the opening, she was basking in the moonlight, facing the cool mist of the river.
She chuckled.
She knew exactly why they’d led her here. An old myth that the hunters swore by was that a witch couldn’t cross flowing water. Once she was on the opposite side of the river, she would be able to breathe a little easier. If the hunters were on her trail, they would certainly turn back once they came to this crossing.
Ravi squawked, perched high above in the elm tree on the bank of the river.
She smiled, laughing. “I see you haven’t missed a beat.”
Looking at the position of the moon it was clearly well past midnight. How long had she been in the cave? She would only have a few hours till sunrise to move with darkness as her cloak. Hopefully, she’d feel safer once on the other side of the river.
Her mouth watered.
She ran over to the water and dropped her bag on the bank. She quickly located the wooden bowl nestled at the bottom of her pack and dipped it into the clear water. It was so cool and crisp against her dry lips. She drank until she couldn’t drink any more.
She sat back against the tree Ravi was sitting in, letting the water replenish her. Her eyes rested on the smooth surface of the remaining water in her bowl. She took her finger and stirred the water, wishing to see the path ahead.
A faint image of a garden appeared, sitting in a clearing past a dense wood. She leaned forward to get a closer look, but the image soon faded. All that remained was a gentle ripple on the surface.
She stood up and packed the bowl back in her bag, ready to make use of the cover of night. She would travel as far as she could until the sun reappeared.
She placed her palm on the opening of the cave and gave her thanks for their guidance and received one last piece of wisdom.
Dear one, you always learn the most from having to find your way in the dark. Know that this wisdom weaves through all. Follow the pattern along the web to find your way when you feel lost. Your inner compass is always there to guide you home. Remember who you are. Claim your divine power!
Even though she’d never heard Agnes’ voice, she knew these were her words.
“Thank you.”
She smiled, reassured she wouldn’t be alone on this next leg of the journey. Her ancestors had been walking beside her the entire way and would see her through all that was to come—the good and the bad.
Her smile faded.
Agnes may not have realized it, but Alexa had sensed the sadness within her spirit. Alexa knew what that meant. And though it made her soul heavy, she also took comfort in the words of the prophecy. The witch hunts would come to an end one day. She might not be here to see that end, but it would come just the same.
She took one last look at the darkness hidden within the cave, knowing she would one day return to the void—the place from which we are all born and where each of us returns to in the end. But there was no more fear of the dark, for she had found her light in the darkest of places. The hunters would try to extinguish the light from each of them by the end of the hunts but having looked one of their victims in the eye just now, she knew the truth—the light that shines from within is eternal and can never be snuffed out.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Alexa Wardwell
Haverhill, August 1, 1645
Alexa scampered through the trees, quiet as a mouse. She had been walking all night and several hours after the sun had returned to the sky. She was moving much slower today. Her knees and legs throbbed due to a tussle with a few thorny bushes, and she’d twisted her ankle in a nasty tumble into a hole she’d neglected to see while in the thickest part of the woods. She’d promised herself she could rest once she reached the clearing up ahead. Surely, she was far enough away now from the cave after crossing the river. There hadn’t been a single sign of the search party, which gave her comfort, but she was going to have to sleep again soon. Her eyes were heavy with exhaustion. She scanned the terrain for a nearby barn to bed down in.
Her stomach rumbled.
She’d run out of berries overnight, dropping most of them along the lake as she baited the dogs then finishing the last few off yesterday in the cave. She’d stopped at every blackberry bramble and bilberry bush along the way, but someone had already gathered the healthiest ones, leaving just scraps behind.
She ventured out of the thick line of trees, cautious that she would be more exposed, but her hunger was at the forefront of her mind.
Through a thicket of blackthorn, she spotted a garden up ahead. Her mouth watered at the prospect of sinking her teeth into a fresh vegetable. She gingerly approached the meticulously planted garden and gently plucked a few carrots from the pristine rows, munching on them right away. She ran her hand over the soil. Someone loved this garden deeply. Everything was planted perfectly in tidy lines.
She cocked her head. Something about the pattern of the rows called up the memory from her scrying bowl.
This was the garden in the vision!
Thunder cracked the sky. She looked at the gathering clouds, rolling in the distance. She’d sidestepped the storm mostly when she’d parted from her sisters, but there was another one on the way from the looks of it.
A twig broke behind her. She hoped it was Ravi returning to her side. He’d chosen to stay behind where she’d crossed the river that ran along the cave. He must have wanted to make sure no one followed her, but she’d missed having his company all night.
“There’s more where that came from if you’re hungry.”
Alexa spun around and faced a tall man with the deepest green eyes she’d ever seen.
“I’m sorry,” Alexa replied, wiping the stray bits of carrot from her mouth. “I ran out of food. I couldn’t help myself.” She hung her head.
He chuckled. “It’s no bother.”
“I never steal, I swear.”
“I share most of my bounty with my neighbors anyway. It’s truly no burden.”
She glanced around his property. “Neighbors?”
He shrugged. “Neighbors might be an exaggeration. When I go into town, I drop off an extra crate of vegetables along the way. Kindness has a way of repaying you in the end.”
His lips curled into a smile that reached his eyes.
“Your legs,” he said, gesturing to the cuts and bruises peppering her shins. “You’re hurt.”
She pulled the skirt of her dress over her legs. “I lost a fight with a few thorn bushes.”
“Come in and warm yourself by the fire. I can help you clean those up.”
She surprised herself by considering his offer. She’d never been alone with a man before in his home except the rare time she’d been treating a patient without her sisters. Her mother would frown at that sort of thing, but she desperately wanted to sit down and rest. The exhaustion had settled in her bones, the aches reaching all her extremities now.
He waved her over to the house. “I insist.”
She followed closely behind him as he approached the modest farmhouse nestled against the edge of the dense forest, its thatched roof blending with the shadows of large oak trees nearby. In the clearing beside the dwelling, a sturdy barn sheltered a few horses and a pair of pigs. To the left of the home, fertile fields spread out, rich with a variety of crops that seemed to promise a bountiful harvest, much like the garden Alexa had already sampled. There was no doubt this was the land she’d seen earlier while scrying. That had to be a good omen.
The man unlatched the door to the farmhouse and held it open for her. “I’m Jack Sutton,” he said, offering his suntanned hand to her.
“Alexa Wardwell,” she said with an appreciative smile. She wiped the dirt from her hand on her dress before she took his hand. The warmth from his touch soothed the ache in her bones. She was more exhausted than she’d realized.
She limped across the threshold.
“What’d you do to your ankle?”
“I stepped in a hole and twisted it pretty badly.” She winced as she put weight on it.
“Have a seat.” He gestured toward a chair by the fire. “Let us have a look,” he said quietly, guiding her to a nearby chair.
She lowered her aching body into the rocking chair beside the hearth. She hiked up the skirt of her dress and rested it on her knees as he assessed the state of her legs.
“Some of these look painful.”
She nodded. “They are, but honestly, the hunger’s worse.”
“I’ll put a pot of water on the fire. We’ll get you cleaned up in no time. Then we’ll tackle that hunger, too.”
While the water came to a boil, he readied another pot to add to the hearth.
Once the water was warm, he poured a few cups into a basin, bringing it over to the chair she was resting in. He rolled up the sleeves of his white linen shirt just above his elbows. He dunked a fresh towel into the water, and he softly dabbed the warm cloth onto the bloodied scratches that speckled her legs.
She flinched.
“Sorry, that must sting.”
“A bit.”
He dunked the rag back into the water. “I’ll be gentler this time.” He applied the warm cloth to the scratches by her right foot. “This cut’s deeper than the others. We’ll need to keep an eye on this one.”
She winced again as he applied pressure.
“How long have you been traveling?” Jack asked gently, trying to distract her from the sting of the water.
“A few days.”
“All by yourself?”
She nodded.
“It’s not safe for you to be out in the woods at night. I hope your destination isn’t far.” He glanced at the window. “We’ve got a storm headed this way.”
She nodded. That was precisely why she had just been eyeing his barn.
“Yes, it’s coming in quickly I’m afraid,” she replied, searching his face for any sign of pretense, but she found none. Instead, she saw only concern and a quiet strength that put her at ease. As he cleaned her wounds, his touch was gentle, almost reverent, as if he feared causing her more pain.
“You don’t look like you’ve slept recently.”
She shook her head. “Only a little.”
“You’re welcome to stay here. It’s not much, but it’s warm and dry.”
Her cheeks warmed. What would her mother think about her considering a night alone with a stranger? It was unlike her to let her guard down enough to even entertain the thought, but if she didn’t sleep soon, her feet wouldn’t carry her much farther.
“I could just sleep in the barn.”
He frowned, shaking his head. “Not with this storm coming. It’ll be here by midafternoon. I don’t expect it will pass before nightfall.”
Alexa glanced around his simple home. There wasn’t much to speak of. The bed sat next to the hearth just off the kitchen, all in one room. There wasn’t much space to share.
“I’ll be a gentleman. I swear,” he joked, holding his hands out in front of him. “It doesn’t seem right for you to be on your own with bad weather moving in. You’ve got to rest sometime.”
She nodded, looking down at her ankle, swelling more and more by the minute. “I don’t think I could walk now even if I wanted to.”
“Then it’s settled. Give your feet a rest, and I’ll throw on a pot. I make a hearty potato soup. Once you have a full belly and a night’s rest, you will be good as new.”
He dabbed the last of the dried blood on the largest cut on her ankle. He took her hand and pressed it against the rag. “Keep pressure on this while I fix you a hot meal,” he said sweetly, the upturned corners of his mouth dissolving any worries she had about staying. There was a familiar energy about him that reassured her that his intentions were pure.
She smiled gently. “Thank you.”
He jumped up, busying himself in the kitchen, peeling potatoes and chopping onions. Her stomach grumbled, ready to devour whatever he served her.
She rubbed her belly, promising it that food was on the way, and silently said a prayer of thanks for finding shelter before the weather turned and for the company she didn’t realize she’d been craving.
I don’t know what I’ve done to receive such a blessing, but I’m thankful my fortune has changed, at least for today.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Alexa Wardwell
Haverhill, August 2, 1645
Alexa awoke to the smell of biscuits.
Jack turned from the kitchen and smiled gently. “Sorry to wake you. I thought you might need some more sustenance. You slept all night and morning.”
She stood and stretched as she glanced out the window. “Is it daytime already?”
“I didn’t have the heart to wake you. I’m surprised the wind didn’t, though.”
The shudders creaked as the wind gusts thrashed against the window.
“That’s what I couldn’t send you out in last night. You wouldn’t have made it far in this.”
She nodded. “It was the right choice clearly.”
“Was the chair too hard to sleep in?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t wake once.”
“Still…the bed might have been the better option.”
She waved her hand in the air. “No, I told you. I’m not here to put you out. You have been more than generous to feed me and let me rest.”
She folded the blanket she’d slept under and stretched her stiff back. The rain wasn’t helping her sore bones. She limped around the room to loosen her back.
“Careful not to strain that ankle. That’s going to take days to heal.”
She tried to apply pressure to it, but it throbbed in return. She winced. The pain was worse today than yesterday.
“I’ve had my fair share of injuries. That will only take time.” He flashed a kind smile her way.
She smiled to herself, remembering yesterday. Her cheeks hurt from laughing at his stories over dinner. It had been so long since she’d laughed and even longer since she’d seen a sparkle in someone’s eye. Once the nightmares of the hunts had returned, she thought she might never be able to laugh or feel joy again, but somehow being in Jack’s company was a balm for her sorrowful heart. He’d somehow managed to keep her mind off the atrocities happening outside these walls and given her a break from the heavy thoughts that weighed her down. It was enough time to let hope seep back in. Maybe there was a chance that kindness could survive the darkest of times.
She sniffed the air and gestured to the teacup he was sipping from. “Is that eucalyptus?”
He nodded. “I’ve got a cough that’s lingered for weeks. My mother always made this tea to knock it out, but I know I’m forgetting something.”
“Try juniper berries.”
He snapped his fingers. “That’s it. That’s what I forgot.”
“Add mullein, too. It will help loosen the chest. It can also soothe irritation in the lungs and throat. You’ll be feeling better in no time with that combination.”
“I may have some mullein here somewhere.” He opened the cabinet, searching with one hand while holding the skillet in the other.
“I can help with that,” she said, pointing to the pan he was holding.
“No. You’re my guest. Let me serve you.”
She backed off. “Sorry, I’m not used to that. At home, whoever gets up first makes breakfast. That’s usually me. It’s rare that my sisters beat me to the sunrise.”
“You live with them?”
She nodded. “Iris and Hattie. I’m not used to being on my own.”
“You’re the oldest?”
She gave her head a nod as she sat at the table.
He plated the biscuits and placed them in the center of the table. “And they aren’t traveling with you?” He poured a glass of milk and set the jug in front of her.
“Not this time.” She took a sip. “We’ll meet up again shortly. If this storm ever lets up.”
“I don’t know how soon you should be walking, especially if you’ve got far to go.” He gestured to her ankle. “I wouldn’t push yourself too fast. My mother always says if you rush the healing process you risk setting yourself back two-fold.”
Alexa raised a brow. “Wise advice.”
His brow lifted. “Folks travel several towns over for her healing touch.” He bent down to assess her foot and cupped it in his hand.
“She’s a healer?”
“Yes, ma’am. None better if you ask me, and she would not let you set off on foot for at least a week.”
“A week?” Alexa choked on the milk she’d just swallowed.
“Not if you don’t want to risk reinjuring it.” He bent down and took her foot into his lap. “The swelling looks worse. After we eat, you can prop it up. It’s not like either of us are going anywhere any time soon with that going on outside.”
The rain beat against the window, the wind howling vigorously.
“Guess not.”
Alexa swallowed hard, hoping they were secluded enough that she was safe to rest up a few more days. Surely the search party wouldn’t continue with this weather. The dogs would never be able to catch a scent in this storm. Maybe she’d caught a break, suddenly grateful for the rain washing away any trace of her. She only hoped they’d also lost track of Hattie and Iris too.
Jack set Alexa’s foot down. In the morning light, he was able to examine her face. He traced the raw scratches along her cheek. “We need to get these cleaned up, too.”
He walked to the kitchen and poured fresh water into a basin. He returned with a cloth and the bowl and pulled out a chair facing her. His calloused fingers dipped the cloth into the basin of cool water then pressed it to her face.
She winced but didn’t pull away.
“Does it hurt?”
“No, just cold.”
“Sorry about that. I could warm the water a bit.”
She shook her head. “It’s fine.”
He returned to his task, concentration etched on his rugged face as he tended to the gashes along her cheek. He was so close she could feel his breath, warm and scented with eucalyptus and honey.
