Rory stared at her, his head still reeling from terror. He didn’t know what had frightened him more—the knowledge that Frances was with the witch’s sister, or the experience of walking back down the path he and the other men had taken that fateful night all those years ago. But Elspeth was right. This was where it had all begun. The spot where they had been cursed and doomed.
The decrepit hovel was no longer standing, but he could see the outline of where it had once been. Was he just imagining it, or could he still see the stain of whiskey on the gravel and dirt? He didn’t imagine the roll of thunder in the distance, though. A storm was coming.
“You might have sent word to us,” Henry said, “instead of using a child to lure us here.”
“Och, I dinnae hurt her. Ye should ken by now that I’m nae threat tae ye. All I’ve tried tae do is help.”
“If you really wanted to help,” King said, “you might have stopped your sister from cursing us. Do you know what’s happened to me—to all of us?”
Elspeth pulled her ragged shawl closer about her frail shoulders, and then she looked at King and Henry and Rory one at a time. “I could nae more stop her than I could the three of ye coming here and taking the cask of whiskey. Still, I did what I could for ye. Dinnae think I havenae paid for it. I am nae a powerful witch, not like my sister. The spell I cast for ye took the last of my strength. I havenae long left.”
Rory swallowed, knowing she was telling the truth. She was so thin and bony, the skin of her face almost transparent. Her hair, thin and white, blew about her face. It might have oncebeen a lovely face, but now it was haggard, the dark bruises under her eyes showing how tired she must be.
He sighed. “We owe you our thanks, then. Somehow you made sure each one of us received the spell you cast. We’re here now. What do you want from us?”
“A decision, nothing more. As I said, I havenae much time left. I want tae end this before my time comes.”
“What sort of decision?” King asked.
She stared at him, her pale eyes eerie in the firelight. “Ye’ve read the spell. It’s clear enough.”
“I beg to differ,” Henry said. “I don’t understand at all.”
“Then let me repeat it for ye. Let me say it as I did that night.” She lifted her hands, the sleeves of her shawl falling back to reveal veined, bony arms. But there was still power in her body and in her hands as she thrust them toward the sky.
“Procure petal of flower, dash of dust of thefae.
Combine now in this goblet, please if youmay.
Hear me now, great goddess of good andlight.
Take mercy on these children. Ease theirplight.
Lose they may all they holddear,
But open a path to clean thesmear.”
Now she paused and looked at Rory.
“If true love they find, they may return to thestart.
Changed, they may offer a sacrifice of theheart.”
“What does that mean?” Rory asked. “‘True love and a sacrifice of the heart’?”
The witch lowered her arms. She was visibly trembling now. “If ye have found true love, then the curse my sister laid on ye can be reversed.”
“I believe I’ve found true love,” Henry said. “Why haven’t I had my properties and my wealth returned?”
“Because you haven’t made a sacrifice,” Rory said, looking at the witch. “Isn’t that right?”
She nodded. “Ye”—she pointed at King—“may have your titles and lands returned tae you. Ye”—she pointed at Henry—“may have the properties and wealth ye lost returned tae ye. And ye”—she pointed at Rory—“ye, who have suffered the most, may have your wife and child returned tae ye. But ye must sacrifice the love ye’ve found.”
“What sort of sacrifice?” King asked. “If you think I’ll lay Violet on a stone table and slit her throat—”
“Nay. Not that sort of sacrifice. It will be as though ye never met, and ye’ll remember nothing of the tragedy or yer true love. Yer life will return to the way it was before yer thirtieth birthday. All ye had then will be returned. Yer loves, assuming they are true love—for it willnae work if they are not—will never ken ye.”
“That’s impossible,” Rory whispered. “You can’t bring people back from the dead.”
