Shift

The Witch

Finally, Adrian's dusty truck reached its destination. Down the winding dirt roads through the Louisiana bayou, between the hanging trees and mossy swamps, Scarlet hung her head outside the window. She breathed in the sticky warmth of the air as they drove, her hair dancing in the wind. She laughed to herself as they swerved along the curves of the dusty road, feeling like a dog on a rare car ride. It made her feel slightly less nauseous, and she grew anxious as they pulled up to park in front of the witch's tiny vine-covered cottage.

Ropes of hemp tied with hag stones hung from the eaves of the house's front porch, and braided twine and corn dolls adorned the frame of the front door. Potted plants lined the porch steps and purple and black drawstring satchels hung from the rafters above. In the front window, as they tiptoed up the front porch steps, Scarlet could see and black and gray cat napping on the back of an armchair.

Adrian's knuckles tapped against the door. Inside, there was a stirring, and Scarlet's heart began to race. She didn't know what to expect, but she felt slightly underwhelmed when the woman opened the door.

She looked to be in her mid-forties, with stringy yellow hair pulled back from her weathered face and a heavy layer of pink lipstick on her mouth. The woman's eyes appeared to be centuries older than the rest of her, a deep blue that seemed to reach into the past and future, like the night sky.

"What do you want?" the woman asked. She looked at them both head to toe with disdain.

"Sorry to bother you," Adrian began.

The woman held up her hand, eyeing Scarlet curiously. "No, no. This one's the one with the problem."

Scarlet frowned. "It's not about me. It's my friend, Penny. She's sick, and you're the only one who can help."

"You don't look so good yourself, honey," said the witch. She stepped aside and let the two of them in.

They followed her into the kitchen and sat next to each other at a high counter. Along the walls, there were shelves covered in old books that smelled of mildew and old paper and cigar smoke. Incense was burning in the other room that reminded Scarlet of the clove cigarettes her father used to smoke when she was a child. Framed pictures hung from the walls in a disheveled manner, along with mirrors of different sizes with various intricately designed frames. From the ceiling, silk scarves were looped over the light fixtures, causing the room to be bathed in various dull colors.

"Miss Dupond," Adrian said. "This is really a time-sensitive manner. I don't mean to rush you, but—" Again, the woman held her hand up to him.

"Please," she said, crinkling her nose, "call me Godiva."

"Godiva. It's important that we get what we need and be on our way. We're willing to pay whatever price you set."

"What is it that you're looking for?" She was speaking to Adrian, but her eyes stayed locked on Scarlet.

"Our friend, Penny, she's afflicted. She was bitten by a werewolf and never turned. It's as if she's stuck in some sort of limbo."

"Ahhh," said Godiva. "I know what you seek. And I have good news, and bad news for you."

"What's the good news?" Scarlet asked, her voice straining from the constant pain and aching, her body growing weaker.

Godiva wandered over to a small shelf that held tiny glass bottles and jars of different sizes and ran her finger across them slowly.

"The good news is that I have what you came for. However," Godiva went on, "I cannot promise that it will work."

"What?" Adrian replied. He cast a worried glance at Scarlet.