Page 32 of A Resistance of Witches
Lydia stared at him. “You don’t. But I’m not.”
He looked as if he’d known that was what she was going to say. She watched as he rubbed one hand over his jaw, muttering to himself.
She stepped closer to hear him over the howling wind. “Excuse me?”
Henry looked at her, and now he didn’t look afraid at all. Angry and frustrated, perhaps. But not afraid.
“I said, I can’t let you leave.”
Twelve
“What do you mean,you can’t let me leave?”
Henry took a step closer, his hands raised in a placating gesture. Lydia stepped back.
“Listen, if you’re a German spy, I can’t just let you walk away. If I do that, I’m as good as dead, and nothing I did here will make a bit of difference.”
“I’m not a German spy.”
“That may be. But I also can’t let an Englishwoman wander around the French countryside in the middle of the night. It’s not safe. I wouldn’t feel right about it.”
Lydia considered him, standing there with the wind pulling at his shirtsleeves. He certainly couldn’t stop her—she could have overpowered him with a word, although he didn’t seem to realize it. She looked around. Night was fully upon them now, and the air was bitterly cold. She had no plan, no allies, and nowhere to take shelter for the night.
She huffed. “What are you suggesting?”
Overhead, the moon peeked her face from behind a drifting cloud. Not quite full. Waiting.
“Come inside,” he said.
•••
Henry led herto a small room with a lumpy bed and a high, narrow window, covered over with ironwork.
“Have you eaten?”
It struck Lydia as an incredibly odd question. Moments ago, he’d informed her that she would essentially be his captive, and now he was asking if she’d had any supper. She shook her head.
“There’s a little soup left. I’ll bring you some.” He didn’t look at her when he spoke. Lydia wondered if he was still rattled by her trick from earlier. She hoped he was.
“Thank you.”
Henry gripped an iron key in his hand. “This is just a precaution, you understand. Just for tonight.”
“Locking me in so I don’t go running off to my German handler?”
Henry hesitated. He was examining the key with a sudden intense focus. Lydia could guess what was on his mind.
“Are you wondering if that will hold me?”
Henry looked at her and didn’t answer.
He still hadn’t asked how she’d managed the trick with her projection.Strange. Most people would have run screaming or demanded to know how it had been done. But not him.
“You needn’t worry,” she said. “It’s a bit chilly out there for my liking. I have no intention of going anywhere.”
To her surprise, Henry nearly laughed but sobered fast. “I’ll bring you that soup and some extra blankets.” He turned to go, then stopped. “Oh, um…” He glanced at her, then away again. “You don’t need to worry about me. I understand that’s not much comfort under thecircumstances, but…” He gestured toward a wooden chair tucked away in the corner. “You can stick that under the door handle tonight. If it makes you feel safer. I’m not going to…” He stopped, flustered, then tried again. “You don’t know me. So I understand if you’re anxious. But you don’t need to be.” He looked like he wanted to disappear.
“I understand. Thank you.”
