To Kill a Witch (ONC 2024 SHORTLIST)

Chapter 2

Loud banging dragged Thea out of a restless sleep, like the drums from solstice day. She sat up, movements short, clumsy with exhaustion. She'd caved and taken a strip of bark with her to bed, and the gritty lumps of it were still caught between her teeth. Without Ridoc to distract her, the pain had been twice as loud, and though it helped, she hadn't been able to shake off the cramp that seized her muscles in vengeance.

The beating continued. It sounded less like drums, and more like fists. 

She fought her way out from under her blankets, welcoming the rush of cold air. She stumbled across her room, plucked a match out of the tray, scratched it along the pad. It took her three tries to get it alight. Cupping it gently, she moved to the window.

The circle of light illuminated her own pale face, the flickering of the tiny flames softening the edges, blurring the knots of her hair and the harsh cut of her bones. She pressed up closer to the glass, and her reflection shrunk, darted away. It didn't want her near. Good. It should keep away.

Her bedroom was front-facing, looking down on the street below. Curfew had been enforced after the first five deaths and disappearances, and the only people allowed out at night were the Watchers. Brave — or perhaps foolish, Thea had yet to decide — people who armed themselves with silver and ventured out to fight off the curses when they were at their strongest.

One of the Watchers was at the door.

Ridoc? It could be him. Sometimes he forgot his key, and was too weary to climb their fence. But he didn't usually knock with such urgency. Not unless something had spooked him.

Thea darted for the door. The match blew out with the air that rushed past, but that didn't matter, she clenched it in her fist as she hurtled, breakneck, down the dark stairs, one shoulder pressed against the wall to guide her way.

Mam had beaten her there. She was rotating the latch as Thea arrived in the hall. She yanked it open to reveal — not Ridoc — a tall girl with reddish brown hair and a stain of something black on her shirtsleeve. Ada. She, Thea and Ridoc used to run games in the schoolyard long after the bell had gone. She was panting hard, and pressed a hand to her chest as she gasped out: "Mrs Montgomery!"

Her Mam drew herself up to her full height, but Thea could see her white-knuckled grip on the door, the tell-tale tremor in her arm. "What is it?"

"There was an attack — down by the church — they overwhelmed us—" Ada gasped and bowed her head, as though the weight of seeking their faces drop was too much of a burden — "they got Ridoc."

A scream rose in Thea's throat. She bit down, hard, the metallic taste of blood flooding her mouth. Her legs shook. She was going to fall. Her brother. The Witch had sent monsters after her brother. Some of the Watchers think the Witch is losing power.

We think it might be because of you.

No. She hadn't been losing power. She'd been tricking them. She'd gone to the ground. And now she was punishing her. Punishing Thea. She was going to destroy her.

Ridoc. She pressed her hand to her lips, caught the scream in the cradle of her fingers. I warned you.

Mam was grabbing her boots, shrugging her coat on her shoulders. She was speaking to Thea, but she heard none of it, her brain moving in slow, fuzzy jerks. She bent down, grabbed her boots, forced her bare feet inside the cracked leather. She couldn't reach for her coat, not with the scream in one hand and the other taken, so she followed Mam and Ada into the night without one. The cold raised the hairs in her arms, and she knew she should be embarrassed, walking out in her nightgown, but all she could think about was Ridoc, and another night, just like this one, when they'd gone out into the dark, choking on the smoke.