The Binding Witch and The Fortune Taker

Stolen Magic

Madame Miri's trailer was even smaller than ours. It was an aging canned ham-type trailer with a flaking paint job and dented fenders, nestled in the forest about a five minute walk from where the campground officially ended. Broken scrub trees revealed the path she took to haul her small trailer through the undergrowth. One of those early hybrid SUVs, the ones that tipped over when they took a turn too fast, was still hooked up to the trailer.

Ready for a quick getaway? I felt a chill I wasn't altogether sure had anything to do with my impending fever. I wondered if we would hear sirens before we got what we came for. Namely, information on how to stop the progression of heart failure via magical talisman.

Indira crouched down behind a tree when we were within sight of Miri's home and motioned for me to do the same.

I sort of smooshed myself behind an adjacent Yaupon, but who were we kidding? I was way too tall to hide behind these spindly Texas trees, so I just stayed very still. "What?"

"Listen!" Indira said.

Without the hum of an air conditioning unit to act as a muffler, trailer walls afford about as much privacy as having your conversation in public. Beyond the low hum of cicadas, I could hear a heated discussion taking place inside Miri's trailer.

"Think we can get closer so we can hear what they're saying?" I said.

Indira paused, then nodded.

We crept forward and hid just beneath the kitchenette window.

The smoked glass windows didn't allow us to identify the second speaker, but the shadows inside showed that there wasn't one.

Madame Miri was in the trailer alone.

Waving her hands around and shouting in different voices, she was arguing with herself. High-pitched voices, baritone voices, and sometimes her own, she wavered between praise and criticism.

"Miri!" she yelled in her own scratchy voice. "You could rule the world with this power!"

"You're just going to ruin this like you have everything else," came a lower, distinctly male voice.

"Shut up!" came a child's voice. "Just shut up!"

I did the finger twirl around my ear at Indira, to telegraph my thoughts on Miri's state of mind.

Indira nodded.

I shifted position to get a better view and my heel snapped a twig.

Indira grabbed my leg, but it was too late.

The voices in the trailer stopped.

Miri stomped to the door and flung it open so hard the handle imbedded into the side of the trailer.

"Who's there?" she said. She leapt over the steps and landed on the ground in a crouch.

The woman before us was so utterly changed, I hardly recognized her. To say she was different would indicate her slovenly appearance had changed, but that wasn't the case. Her grooming still left everything to be desired, but what remained of her hair clung to her skin, which was decidedly red in hue. She was thinner than when I'd seen her a few hours ago, too. Her dress gaped about her like a sagging tent and deep hollows beneath her cheekbones gave her eyes a striking, desperate look.

A breeze blew her scent downwind to us. She smelled like rotten eggs.

I gagged.

Miri's head swiveled slowly to our hiding spot like that creepy trained hawk in the falconer's show.