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ANOTHER SLEEPLESS NIGHT. I am starting to look and feel older than my years. There seems to be a pulse of life, a heartbeat coming from the little bag of evil and it beats in time to mine. Once it is gone from my home, the unrest will continue as I know there will be two more murders, abetted by me and I am not sure how life can go on as it is now.
Everything has changed and even though Halfreda tells me not to worry, I cannot help it.
I have always known I was a white witch, as people call me. I have a few powers, far less than Halfreda, but growing as I explore and nurture them. I have always tried to do good.
People are complicated and almost all of us are flawed in some way and yet I like to believe that people are trying to do their best. Trying to make the right choices.
I allow someone to buy a love potion, as the heart can be turned. I allow someone to buy poison because the heart can be angry. I have even allowed this man to buy a death draught and is that because I too am flawed?
If I was to refuse this man I have no doubt that he would kill me. And so selfishly I choose my life over somebody else’s.
I can try to justify it all I like but I have broken my own rule. I have been caught up in someone else’s very dangerous game and now I am a player, like it or not.
I have made a fire so that I can be comforted by its warmth. I have lit a candle so that the light can give me hope. I have strewn herbs so that the sweet smells overpower the sour feeling inside me. I am drinking calming tea and waiting for the knock that will come today.
As I drink, I pray to the gods for forgiveness and I pray that the two souls who will leave this world soon will forgive me as well. And I hope to atone for their deaths by only doing good from this day forth. When this cloaked murderer leaves; if he leaves me in one piece, my life and the direction I am taking will change.
I vow not to even sell a simple sick-making tonic. I will be a vessel for all things good and pure and true.
There is a knock at the door and already I know it is him. My bowels loosen and I am afraid to stand up. There is no question as to what sort of man this is. A snake.
A snake at my door.
Before I open the door I quickly take out the evil vial from its hiding place. He will not know that I am sick from it, that I hid it away. He shall not see my true thoughts. I can cover them in myself as I can uncover them in others and I do so. I smile as I open the door. I am right, of course, that it is him, and cloaked today with his face covered in a dark hood he could be death at my door.
And of course, he is. At the irony, my smile widens.
“Good day.” He greets me politely, even warmly, and I know that all in his life are duped by this snake.
“Good day, Sir.” I lower my eyes in deference. I will not have him thinking I need putting in my place. I see his guard beyond him, pretending to be waiting casually for his friend.
“I trust you are well.”
“Thank you, Sir, I am.”
These pleasantries are making my stomach coil.
“And my request?”
“Fulfilled Sir, of course.”
“Of course. The promise of coin can do wonders for a poor witch.”
I am stung by his words, all the money in the world would not have turned my head on this; fear for my life made me do this. I turn and reach for the vial instead. He speaks again.
“It didn’t take a lot for you to abandon your principles, then? Harm none? You know what a death draught does?”
I face him with the vial in my hand, my knuckles white and my face probably the same. I do not want to anger him and yet I cannot stand the superiority and pomposity of him, judging me and trying to make us equal in complicity.
And yet I suppose I am as bad as him. The fight goes out of me and I hold out the vial. The throbbing has become a physical thing, though real or imagined I cannot tell. It is vibrating through my fingers, it’s like it wants to move, wants to start working its bad magic and causing trouble. It is truly like a living thing and I cannot wait for him to take it away.
He holds out a greedy hand, it is perfect and smooth – not a working man’s hand and yet it seems claw-like to me. I hate this hand and the man that it belongs to.
I release the vial and relief warms me. The throbbing is gone.
“Can I trust you? Is this really what I asked for?” he asks, his voice a menace.
I nod. “Of course, Sir, it is not in my interests to trick you.”
He laughs, a lovely sound, which upsets me. This man is someone’s son, friend, maybe lover. His voice is kind; his laugh is warm.
“True.” Snake-like again, he pounces: “But I should test it, to be sure.”
He holds the vial up, his eyes on mine. He starts to unscrew the tiny lid.
My breath stops. And my heart batters inside me. I am sure that he can hear it, because he laughs.
“Fear not, little witch. A man needs a friend. And one with your knowledge, skills and resources is priceless. You will be very useful to me.”
My breathing has returned to normal and yet I feel like air is even harder to come by. This man is saying he wants to use me again, as an ally. I cannot stand this. I do not want to be his friend, ally or servant.
He tucks the vial about his person and steps towards me. He places a finger on my chin and I shiver. He doesn’t take it for fear, but for pleasure, which is stomach churning. He smiles, predatory. “Thank you, little witch. I will see you again.”
He turns away and then as an afterthought faces me again and drops a huge bag of coin on my chair.
He leaves and I drop to the floor. Tears are scarring my face and sobs are breaking my heart.
What have I started and what will I do now?