The Last Witch

Nothing happened.

Penn’s brow furrowed and he shook the vial, and Asher’s entire arm. He growled at it, his fingers digging into Asher’s hand hard enough to break skin. There was a pulse beneath the metal, a heartbeat that vibrated through his palms.

‘Take the chance, boy,’ Iain said. ‘Walk away.’

Asher turned to stare at him. ‘Did you walk away?’ he asked. He held up the vial. ‘Or is this just a hobby?’

‘I already made my choice,’ Iain said. ‘If you want to get anything out of coming here and messing up my day, at least take that. Do not get involved in witchcraft.’

‘I’m already involved,’ Asher pointed out.

‘No. You’re not,’ Iain said. ‘You think those stories of witches working for the demons come from nowhere? Those little bastards are attracted to magic, and you’re handing yourself over every time you mess with it. You’re not a witch.’

Penn snatched the vial from Asher and thrust it towards Iain. ‘You do it then.’

‘No,’ Iain said.

Penn growled.

‘You can put all the fairy curses on me you want,’ Iain snapped. ‘I can’t lose anything else.’ He turned on his heel, picking up a hammer and slamming it down hard on the table. ‘I’ve said my piece. You ignore me and it’s on you.’

‘And if I want to ignore you, what am I doing differently?’ Asher asked.

The hammer came down again, hard enough to shake the walls. It fell back into the rhythmic beats of his work, and if Asher wanted to call out to get his attention, the pounding was loud enough to drown out any attempt. He sighed.

‘So we find another way,’ Penn said. ‘We need the wolf.’

‘Is the wolf why all the other animals are attacking the townfolk?’ Asher asked.

Penn shrugged.

‘Is it possible?’

Penn nodded.

That was enough to risk whatever consequences were about to come his way. No-one else was close to any of this as far as he knew. He’d already lost Clyde, the guard was stretched thin, Norrah was losing patience, and no-one in this place could afford another disaster. If not now, then something would come along where he had little choice.

Asher considered the vial in Penn’s hand. Maybe because he’d already done something, though he didn’t know what. Maybe the dust had to be involved. Maybe he was about to blow himself up.

As carefully as he could manage, Asher pried the thing out of Penn’s grip, checking to make sure his thumbs were pressed into the same points. Penn took a step back, staring at the metal with an intensity that made Asher nervous. The white wisps of spirits pattered against his skin, but still nothing happened.

Penn bit his lip, then mumbled something in his mother tongue. The spirits stopped moving and the metal stopped breathing, replaced with a tension that pulled his hands in closer, a pressure waiting to pop. Penn frowned, and fire sparked behind his eyes again.

‘Hold still,’ he said.

Asher obeyed as Penn pulled one of his gloves free, revealing a scarred and calloused hand beneath. He flexed his fingers, then drove his palm into the bottom of the vial. A dark red welt rose on his skin, staining the silver lines of the casing, and Asher only had a moment to wonder why it was strange to think the man’s blood wouldn’t be red, when the white fire erupted through the metal once more.

This time it burned less, pressure pushing against his grip as though the thing was straining to shoot into the roof like a cannon. He strained to hold it in place, even as Penn pulled his hand away and wriggled his glove back on. Muscles he’d never used before cramped hard, pain seizing up his arms and into his chest, until he was holding the entire house in place, holding gravity down to keep himself grounded. Black spots filled his vision, and he was sure he would pass out when something cracked against the base of his skull, and the vial shattered like glass.

As the metal dissolved in his hand, the wisps remained. All of them collected into a ball of red flame no bigger than his thumb. Asher eased his hands away, his entire body buzzing as though those phantom bugs now covered his skin, and the little orb remained. It then shot towards the door and disappeared through a crack in the wood.

Penn charged after it, tearing the door open and sprinting around the corner. Asher swore, but as soon as he made to chase him, his crutch caught against the uneven ground and he fell into the table.

‘Shit.’ He wouldn’t catch up to Penn like this, but he couldn’t leave the man to run havoc through all of Dalvany either. Gritting his teeth, he wove his hand around his remaining crutch, tested his weight against his ankle, then hobbled after Penn.

Asher reached the end of the street, where a crossroad waited, the path ahead curving into a hill leading up into the mountains. Footsteps echoed through the otherwise empty streets, thankfully coming from the road leading around the base of the mountain. He had no way of knowing if it was Penn, but he wasn’t about to try and run up the hill.

He struggled along as fast as his legs would allow, ignoring the twinges and aches that ran through his calf. The crutch knocked against the cobble ground, the sound ringing out through the silence, caught in the stillness of the greying sky turning dark with twilight.

A flash of red shot across his vision, and Asher pulled to a stop moments before Penn barrelled out from between two houses and skidded to a halt before crashing into him. Asher stumbled and fought to keep upright as Penn glanced back and forth desperately. In the last thirty seconds, he’d somehow grown several inches.

‘It went that way,’ Asher said. When Penn lunged forward, Asher grabbed him by the cloak and pulled him to a stop.

Penn hissed, revealing pointed canines that looked a lot sharper than before.

‘Cut that out,’ Asher snapped. ‘You’ve come around in a circle.’

‘It’s getting away!’ Penn cried.

‘Can’t you ask the spirits where it’s going?’

Penn recoiled, stammering at the suggestion, and Asher wondered if he had just suggested standing on his head to see better. Penn shifted, pulling his cloak free, but he didn’t move to follow the light. Instead, he stood and stared at Asher, the light in his eyes sparking and sizzling in a slowly building blaze.

‘I have to find him,’ Penn said. Pain pierced the harder syllables of his accent, almost as though he was about to cry. ‘I have to.’

‘We will,’ Asher said. A flash of red caught the corner of his eye, and he lashed his hand out to catch the red wisp as it sailed past, but it bled through his fingers and kept moving. Penn snapped his own fist out and caught it easily. Red trails of fire and smoke broke through his fingers, but Penn held tight.

He turned back to Asher expectantly.

‘Maybe it needs a straight line,’ Asher said. ‘Can it go through walls?’

Penn shrugged.

Asher assumed that was a no, but he could figure this out. Wild animals were everywhere, but he’d already heard about the reports of rabid animals. Dalvany’s Lieutenant had been missing because she was responding… at the farms. They were already on the edge of town; they could at least try.

‘It won’t be here in town,’ Asher said. ‘We can try the farmlands, but I don’t know if it’s there or up north in the mountains.’

‘The closer one,’ Penn said. He was practically bouncing, agitated.

‘Are you going to be mad if it’s the wrong way?’

Penn continued to fidget, glaring at him. Asher sighed, then pointed down the road, back the way they had come.