To Kill a Witch (ONC 2024 SHORTLIST)

Chapter 1

It's not real. It's not real. 

Thea gritted her teeth, clutching at her wrist, rubbing it in a desperate attempt at easing the pain. A terrible, twisting, stabbing feeling that felt like the teeth of malicious insects dragging across her ruined skin. It's not real, she told herself firmly, staring at the ragged end of her sleeve, where the fresh hemming has begun to unpick under the ministrations of her fingernails. There's nothing there. 

There never is. 

"More bark?" Ridoc asked as he slid into the seat opposite her, mug of tea in hand. "Or are you good?" 

Thea brought her fingers away, drove them instead into her skirts, bunching the fabric into a tight fist. "I'm good," she muttered. It's not real. She didn't need the willow. She didn't. If she kept chewing it, it would get stuck under her tongue, and then nothing would help. Her store was running low as it was. Mam would be furious if she had to dip into the mantle-jar again this month. 

Ridoc fumbled in his pocket with his other hand. "A distraction then." He pulled the broken silver locket from his trousers and spread it on the table with a flourish. "Ready to try and win this back?" 

A small smile touched Thea's lips. It was the last piece of Before, this, and she treasured it. She'd left it alone since That Night, refused to go near it, till Ridoc gave up and carried it with him instead. She hadn't wanted to remember Pa, not just then. He hadn't been allowed in that moment, nor any moment of it since. Only in the days past had she allowed herself to speak of him again. 

She licked her lips. "Try?"

Ridoc raised his mug of tea to his lips. His expression hadn't changed, but she could feel his relief. Another prick of pain accompanied it. Her eyes drifted to the old grandfather clock by the door, already searching for a way out. At least there was one. "But we don't have time for a card game." Last time Mam had caught them round the table before Ridoc's shift, she'd been in such a rage she'd threatened to sell the cards to make up for dropped wages. 

Ridoc tapped the table. "Lucky draw, then?" Reluctant, Thea returned her focus. "Come on. You have nothing to lose." 

He was right. And she wasn't lucky. Thea nodded. 

He pulled the deck of cards from his bag. Though she doubted he played with anyone but her, the hand-painted cards never left him. He shuffled a few times — an action that sent another sickening lurch through her — and spread them out for her to pick. 

She pulled her hand free of its fabric prison, and drifted it over the backs of the cards, brushing them with her fingertips. Flaking paint and coarse playing paper. Dry. Like—

She drew a card. 

Ridoc drew his own. They met eyes. "One." Thea muttered. 

"Two." There was a flicker of childhood excitement in her brother's dark eyes. 

"Three." They said on the same breath, and flipped the cards. 

Two moons beamed up at her, half crescents that curved around the dark. Ridoc's card bore six roses, crimson petals, smudged in one corner by an errant thumb, a smear that distended into a pool of sticky red at the corners of Thea's mind. "Damn." He said.

She shoved her card over to him. "Well done." 

"Sorry." 

She forced a proper grin on her face. "Don't be. Lucky draw, right?" 

He deftly shuffled the cards back into a neat pile, snapping the twine they used to bind them together back in place. "Tomorrow, you can beat me at devil's bridge."

He rose. Thea got up, too, picked up his bag and handed it to him when he turned to her. He slung it over his shoulder. "Make sure you eat something tonight, yeah?" 

"I'll try." Though meat had turned her stomach every time since the accident. 

"Well then," Ridoc threw his arm around her shoulders and drew her closer for a hug. She leant into him, felt the human warmth, real and alive. He smelled of oranges. "I'll be back to relieve you of your bed in the morning, m'lady."

Thea walked with him to the door. The bitter taste of the night air hit the back of her throat, and her eyes watered. Smoke hung over the town, masking the terrible shadows and gathering tendrils of Night-fog, hiding the danger from innocent eyes. "Be careful, tonight." She said. "Enid said the lines have stretched further in the night. They're almost at the fence, now. We'll have to draw it back in, soon." 

Ridoc stilled. "No, they haven't." 

Thea's stomach gave a horrid jerk of panic. A bolt of pain flared up her arm. "Enid said—"

"Enid is fear-mongering." Ridoc growled. He still hadn't forgiven the woman for turning up on their doorstep with a parcel of herbs in her hands, the kind that put you into a sleep you'd never come out of, when she'd heard the news about Thea. "You know what she's like. We measured the lines just yesterday. They're the same as they've been since Hallow's Eve." 

"But—" 

He squeezed her hand, quick, firm. "Thea. It's fine. I told you. The Witch isn't — look —" 

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, then reached out to close the front door. The latch clicked into place. 

"Mam said I shouldn't tell you," he said softly, leaning against the door, keeping the dark where it belonged. Thea stared at him, teeth gritted, hand curled into her skirts once more. "Said it wouldn't help you get better — but, see, Thea, I think she's wrong. You've got to stop worrying, start feeling safe again." 

"Safe is just another word for complacent." Her eyes had started to burn. 

Ridoc's head dipped. "Not for everyone." It wasn't a reprimand, but she took it like one, shoulders curling in defence. "Thea.. the other Watchers reckon the Witch is losing power."

No. Every inch of her rose up in revolt. She swayed, reaching out for the wall, pressing herself against it. No no no. He can't — that couldn't—

"We think it might be because of you," he finished. He didn't reach for her, but she could feel his gaze on her, shifting over her skin, peeling back the layers of it, revealing the soft, raw parts. "Because you escaped." 

No. She gave a jerky shake of her head. "That's not how witches work, Ridoc." Her voice was hoarse, scratching along the lines of her throat. 

"Nobody knows how witches work." 

But Thea did. Pa had told her. It was the story he'd never told Ridoc. It was their secret, their thing, like the cards he'd painted, the games they played together that she'd never understood. Ridoc knew numbers. Thea knew words. So vivid they could be real. 

She lifted her eyes, almost pleading. "It's a trick or something. You've got to be careful." 

He smiled then. "Good job I have my dagger, then. And tea to warm my bones." 

She swallowed back the mounting fear. "Keep it that way." 

He slipped the latch and disappeared into the gathering dark without another word. 

Thea brought her ragged arm to her chest, cradled it close. There's nothing there. 

Whoever said that hell was fire and flames was wrong. Hell was the narrow streets and hungry shadows of Devil's Corner, and no amount of stories could chase away what lived in the dark.