Nina gave a surprised shriek and nearly toppled off the stool. Only the witch’s long-fingered hand saved her from falling.
“Watch.” Her voice was severe. “See him. See his torment.”
“Is that your son?” Nina leaned close again. The man she’d thought was a statue was huge—even bigger than Reddix—and he was securely chained to the stone wall with his arms behind his back. He had a strange contraption on his neck too—a little bit like the Hurkon collar. It was dusty black and high, covering most of his strong throat and forcing his chin up into an agonizingly stiff position.
“Yes, that is Therron.” There was real pain in the witch’s voice now. “But he does not know that—he doesn’t even know his own name. The name I gave him.”
“Why is he chained like that?” Nina asked. “And why is he covered in that grayish dust? I thought he was a statue.”
“The dust is powdered verium—it leeches all moisture from the body and induces thirst. A thirst so desperate some say it can cause madness.” The witch’s eyes flashed angrily. “They chain him by the stream to torment him, but they never let him drink.”
“That’s…terrible,” Nina whispered. “But who would do such a thing? Who has him?
The witch sighed. “As to that, I do not know. But I do know that the time of his freedom is near.” Her yellow pupils rolled up, leaving only the whites of her eyes visible, and she began to chant in a slow, sonorous voice that didn’t sound like her own.
“Dark and Light
Wrong and Right
When one finds Peace
The other may Fight
Day and Night
Growth and Blight
One in Love
The other in Flight
Tied together
Fate to fate
Strangers, brothers
Mate to mate
Prisoners they no longer be
When one is healed
The other is free.”
“What…what does that even mean?” Nina sat back, frightened of the witch’s strange new voice. It reminded her of how possessed people always sounded in horror movies. For the first time she began to wonder if maybe the woman was mentally disturbed.
The witch blinked, her eyes returning to normal. “It means the time of Therron’s freedom is almost near. And your darling Reddix is going to bring it about—whether he knows it or not.”
“What do you mean?” Nina asked. “How could he possibly—?”
“Nina? Are you all right?” The new, familiar voice made Nina’s head whip around. There, standing in the doorway of the small cottage, was Reddix.
“Reddix!” She wanted to jump off the stool to run to him, but the sudden weakness overcame her again, and she could barely lift her hand. “Reddix,” she whispered again.
“Are you hurt? Did she hurt you?” He came striding over, but the witch was suddenly between them.
“She’s perfectly fine, warrior.”
“I heard her screaming! Stand aside and let me go to her.” Reddix’s deep voice was filled with menace.
“Very well.” The witch stepped aside and let him pass.
As soon as he put his arms around her, Nina felt as though a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She sighed in relief and pressed her head to his chest.
“You found me,” she breathed. “How did you know where to look?”
“Because of this.” He showed her the inside of his right wrist where the snake-like tattoo had shrunk down to a tiny dot.
“I’ll take that if you please. It has served its purpose well.” The swamp witch held out one long white hand, and the tiny red snake-shaped speck jumped from Reddix’s wrist into her palm. “Excellent.” She looked pleased.
“Come on.” Reddix pulled Nina off the stool, supporting her almost completely since she was still so weak. “We’re leaving now.”
“Truly? Leaving without your cure? The cure your beloved paid for with her pain and blood?” The witch raised an eyebrow at Reddix.
“I want nothing more from you,” he said shortly. “Except that you stay far away from me and mine.”
“Very well.” The witch shrugged and stepped aside again. Reddix swung Nina into his arms and was about to leave the hut when she added, “But if you ever want her to stop bleeding, you’ll have to take the cure.”
“What?” He turned, frowning, and Nina looked down at her wrist. The yellow cloth the witch had wrapped around her wound was spotted with blood. As she watched, the bloody splotches grew, and she felt even weaker.
“Reddix,” she whispered. “Something…something’s wrong.”
Reddix glared at the witch. “What in the Seven Hells have you done to her, Xandra?”