Oh, good. Anna was a little relieved that they weren’t going to jump straight into this. She was entirely sure that she wasn’t ready for getting all wound up in witchery, no matter that Jesus had granted her a sign, and she’d much rather put it off entirely for a while until she got used to the idea. She finished her breakfast, helped Jinny with the dishes, then went to collect the eggs while Jinny mucked out the pigs.
From there, Jinny sent her down into the bottom of the vegetable garden, near where the lane ended and the fence around the huge garden plot began, to weed. Knowing what was coming next when a human went into the garden—tasty weeds uprooted for them with no effort, and bugs picked off the plants and tossed within easy reach—the chickens followed her down.
The garden was surrounded by a rail fence, which looked deceptively crude and weak, but was strong enough to climb and jump on. There wasn’t a gate in it—there was a stile that you used to climb over it. Knowing what she knew now, Anna suspected that this fence was witched in some way to keep critters out of the garden, because Aunt Jinny never seemed to have any trouble with anything but a few persistent bugs and the usual weeds, even though there were plenty of succulent vegetables to tempt deer, rabbits, possums, and raccoons. And the chickens never strayed outside that fence, either, and they certainly could have gotten over it with no effort at all. More witchery?
Prolly. But that just underscored the fact that so far, nothing she had seen or inferred about this witchery was bad.
Kinda looks like thet sign was th’ right one, she thought, reluctantly.
Down on her knees in the soft, fragrant earth, she soon got into the rhythm of things, and the gentle chickens scratched along beside her, making soothing, crooning noises and happily gobbling up whatever she tossed in their direction. It occurred to her in that moment that, here with Aunt Jinny, life was truly excellent. The chores she had been set, although they were not exactly fun, certainly had more about them that was pleasant than they had at home. She wasn’t breathing in smoke, she felt wonderful, and she was surrounded by growing things that were thriving instead of struggling to live. The chickens in particular were amusing; particularly desirable bugs elicited a competition that sometimes ended in the winner being pursued the length of a row of vegetables, at least until she swallowed her prize. It was peaceful down here, and if she could just shake the feeling of being homesick, it would be a little slice of Heaven.
But even with feeling homesick at this moment, the world around her was drowsy and quietly beautiful.
Then, between one moment and the next, everything changed.
The chickens suddenly alerted, heads all going up and swiveling toward the lane. And then, abruptly, they left. Not running, but not dawdling either, they moved quickly and with unnerving quiet in a tight group up to the cabin, as if they wanted to escape something that was coming.
Everything suddenly got brighter, and oddly, a little colder, a chill as if a goose had walked over her grave. And Anna felt a prickling between her shoulder blades, as if someone was watching her.
Something inside her told her to be very careful about what she did next.
There could be a bear behind her in the lane—but the Ravens had promised that there would be no bears near the cabin. There could be a wolf or even a panther, but neither of those would have brought cold and brightness with them, would they?
They might if they’s witchy-critters.
But it probably wasn’t something. It was probably someone. If there was someone there in the lane . . . it would be extremely rude to ignore them and keep weeding. But if that someone was witchy—which she suddenly suspected was the case, given how oddly the chickens had acted—she needed to think, and not act carelessly or impulsively.
And there was the chance that the person wasn’t merely witchy. It could be a devil. Aunt Jinny wasn’t devilish, but devils were attracted to witchery, and devils were always ready for a chance to trick you into a “bargain” that was no bargain at all, and wouldn’t a devil do his best to catch a budding witch? Seventeen Halloweens-worth of stories about devils and hants that she had absorbed sitting in the shadows at firesides and on porches warned her that if that was the case, she needed to be twice as careful as she would be with a witchy-human, and never show a lick of fear.
And even if it wasn’t a devil, the way the chickens had acted and the prickling between her shoulder blades warned her this was someone who could probably do her a lot of harm if disrespected.
So she stood up, still with her back to the lane, brushed her skirt and apron off carefully, dusted her hands, so that she’d show proper politeness by making sure she was clean and tidy, and then turned.
To see what was literally the most beautiful woman she had ever seen in her life standing a little distance away in the lane, with her head cocked slightly to one side. She had the face of an angel, the body of a heathen goddess, and her garments were—unbelievable.
She wore a gown of vivid green that was like nothing Anna had ever seen before. It had no real waist, and nothing like a full skirt; instead it fell down from the shoulders in a widening column, with full sleeves gathered into cuffs, and a neckline gathered with a gold ribbon. In fact, if it hadn’t been that it was so glorious, it would have reminded Anna of her own nightdress. The cuffs were of gold embroidery, there were more bands of gold embroidery on the sleeves, and gold trim that matched the cuffs at the hem, and it was made of no fabric that Anna had ever seen before, but it looked soft and lustrous, sleek and shiny, with a metallic sheen to it. Over it she wore something like an apron, that wasn’t an apron, of a slightly darker green; it appeared to be a front and back piece sewn together under the sleeves. The shoulder straps were of bands of the same gold embroidery. There was a panel of that embroidery across the top of the garment, and a thicker band of it running down the middle of the front from the top piece to the hem—which also had a band of gold embroidery around the bottom, just like the dress worn beneath it. This appeared to be made of a thicker fabric, not quite as shiny, but just as soft and lustrous.
But most astonishing of all was what the woman wore on her head. It was a kind of pointed half-moon of gold-embroidered fabric that was fastened to a kind of cap of gold beads that hung over the woman’s forehead, with fringes of gold beads on either side of the woman’s head. This astonishing piece of headgear was held on with a huge swath of ribbon tied in an extravagent bow around the hair at the nape of the woman’s neck.
And her hair! It was—crimson. There was no other name for a color that intensely red. It was decidedly not ginger, nor strawberry blond. It was red as holly berries, or completely ripe strawberries, glossy and thick as the mane of a prize horse, cascading in a shining waterfall all the way down to her feet.
The woman’s features were so perfect it seemed as if they could not be real, like the face of an angel. Her complexion was exactly like cream, with a hint of pink on her cheeks. And the crown jewel in a face that literally left Anna feeling stunned was the pair of eyes an impossible green with hints of blue in it, eyes that looked at her with an expression she simply could not read. The cool, dispassionate gaze, the expressionless face—there was something so uncanny about both that it made Anna shiver.
Then the woman’s eyes widened as if in surprise; something like a heat-shimmer passed over her—
And then she was wearing a perfectly ordinary—and yet, extraordinary—dress. Perfectly ordinary, in that it was no different than any dress and apron you’d see on anyone who was moderately prosperous from Soddy—anyone who was just ordinary folks, that is, and not someone like a mine owner’s wife, who’d wear gowns not made for heavy work. Just a print dress with full sleeves and a full skirt with a round collar, and an apron tied over it. Extraordinary in that Anna had never, ever seen a print like this, anywhere. It wasn’t a flour-sack print, nor a store-bought muslin, nor a simple, plain color. It was as green as the last dress
, but subtly patterned in curling, irregularly waving lines of lighter and darker green, and the apron was a light green that matched the lighter stripes, instead of the usual white or cream. Her hair—still that brilliant red, but this time in a tidy braid wrapped primly around her head then coiled into a knot at the nape of her neck, put up like a grown woman’s should be, had a huge green ribbon bow above the coiled knot.
Anna found it very difficult to breathe. Because the woman was still so beautiful that she didn’t seem to belong on this earth.
And Anna felt herself to be as plain as a mud brick, and as clumsy as a newborn foal in this woman’s presence.
Footsteps behind her told her that her aunt had seen the newcomer and was approaching. And she had never felt so grateful for the presence of another person in her life.
“Howdy, Jolene,” her aunt said dryly, as if the woman’s appearance was nothing out of the ordinary.
“Hello, Virginia,” came the reply, in a low, dulcet voice, made for breaking hearts. The woman smiled. “So this is your new apprentice.” It wasn’t a question. As if this Jolene knew exactly what Anna had said to her aunt over breakfast.
“My niece,” Jinny corrected, with a certain hardness in her voice that surprised Anna. “Y’all ain’t t’ interfere with her, no way, nohow. I got my limits, an’ messin’ with my kin is one ’f ’em.”
“I wouldn’t dream of interfering,” Jolene replied, in tones that suggested the opposite, and smiled again, this time finally wearing an expression—an expression of mischief. Not malicious mischief, or at least, not intentionally malicious—but the sort of mischief gotten into by someone who is generally careless of the repercussions her mischief causes. Especially when those repercussions happen to someone else, and not her.
Who is this woman? Anna wondered with bewilderment. Or maybe . . . it ain’t a who. It’s a what. Because she didn’t seem human, somehow. And now Jolene was bending the full force of her concentration on Anna, head tilted to the side in a way that reminded Anna of an emotionless insect. Or maybe I’m the bug to her. Anna wasn’t sure what had prompted that thought—but the instant it sprang into her mind, she was convinced it was true.
Whatever she was—it was witchy. Anna knew in her bones that what she was looking at right now was absolutely nothing like the “real” Jolene. Nor was the “Jolene” she’d seen in that gold and green gown a few moments ago. The real Jolene might not be something a human could easily look at—as the Bible said about angels, where their mere appearance made people fall on the ground, unable to look on them.
“Wall. We both know th’ truth o’ thet,” Jinny replied, with no inflection whatsoever. “What brung y’all t’ Lonesome Holler so early this here mornin’?”
“A stirring in the earth,” Jolene replied. “A hint of news. I came looking for it, and here it is! You’ve finally taken an apprentice!”
“She’s my kin,” Jinny repeated. “Seems fittin’ I teach ’er what I knows.”
Anna kept her mouth shut. Jinny was very much on the defensive. It was clear that she wished Jolene would go away, but didn’t dare do or say anything that might offend her. There was more than respect; there was fear.
“And have you introduced her to the Ravens?” Jolene persisted.
“The Ravens innerduced thesselves to ’er.” Jinny was giving absolutely no information away. She could have said something about how the elder of the two seemed to approve of Anna, but she didn’t.
“And so now you are all good neighbors together.” Jolene clapped her hands together, briefly applauding this bit of information. “Good. Peace in the Holler is something to strive for, and pleases me.”
Jinny looked as if she was going to say something, but held whatever it was back. “Just so,” she said finally.
“But I should give your apprentice a little welcome gift, something to mark her entry into the world of magic,” Jolene continued, eyes sparkling now with that spirit of mischief. “What do I have—” She plunged her hand into her apron pocket as Jinny stepped forward to put herself between Anna and Jolene. “Ah, here, just the thing!” She held out her hand, palm open. On it were resting a dozen wire hairpins.
They were probably brass, but they shone like gold in the sunlight, each one the sort of U-shaped pin with crimped arms that Anna’s Ma used, but each one finished with a blue-and-gold bead at the head of the U, so that the bead would nestle in the wearer’s hair when the pin was in place.
“Go ahead, Virginia, you can take them and look them over, and see I mean no harm.” There was that hint of malicious delight in making Aunt Jinny uncomfortable.
Aunt Jinny held out her hand over the fence, and Jolene tipped the pins into it. Jinny examined the pins minutely for a very long time before sighing, as if she was oddly disappointed in not finding poison or an evil spell on them. Jolene took them back and beckoned to Anna. “Come here, apprentice,” she ordered imperiously. “I shall give my gift properly.”
Anna glanced at her aunt. Jinny nodded reluctantly. Anna approached the fence.
Jolene seized her braids, brought them up to the top of her head, pinned them in place, crossed them over each other, and pinned them in place again, then turned Anna around by the shoulder so that Anna’s back was to her. There was some deft and surprisingly gentle pinning going on at the back of her head, then Jolene turned her back around and looked her over critically. “Much better,” the woman declared. “Now you look like the woman you are, not the child you were.”
“Thenkee, Miz Jolene,” Anna said awkwardly. Then added, “Them pins is somethin’ I been hankerin’ arter fer a while.”
Jolene smiled, as if she was very much aware of that.
“She do look all growed up,” Aunt Jinny admitted reluctantly.
“Good. Let this remind you to treat her as an adult, not a child,” Jolene stated.
“What’s them beads, iffen y’all please, Miz Jolene?” Anna asked, touching the pretty things in her hair and blushing a little with pride. “They’s purtier than flowers.” Oh, how long she had wanted to be able to put up her hair! It had been so mortifying to have it down in a little girl’s braids! To have the pins alone, made out of any old wire, would have been a great gift, but to be given such pretty ones! No matter what Aunt Jinny thought, Jolene had already given her something precious.
“Lapis lazuli,” Jolene replied. “It isn’t a precious gem, but it is a gemstone. It suits your hair better than my malachite.” She patted her own hair, and now Anna noticed that bright green beads studded her braids as well, beads with the same pattern of dark and light wavy lines as the print of her dress. “Useful too; thanks to the beads, you shan’t have to hunt in your hair for the pins when you take it down for the night.”
“Yes’m,” Anna agreed. “Thenkee ever so kindly, Miz Jolene,” she added earnestly.
Jolene looked pleased, and waved the thanks off. “Just a neighborly gift of welcome. I look forward to our next meeting. Good day, apprentice. Good day, Virginia.”
And with that, she turned, and although she didn’t seem to hurry at all, nevertheless she walked with great speed and unnatural grace down the lane, and either due to the color of her gown or some other, uncanny reason, she was soon lost to sight in the shadows.
Aunt Jinny let out a huge sigh, as if she had been holding in her breath. “Thet coulda gone wuss,” she said aloud. “Much wuss.”
“Is . . .” Suddenly Anna didn’t want to say Jolene’s name out loud, as if by doing so she might be summoned. “Is she a witch? Has she got the Glory?”
“She ain’t a witch,” her aunt replied. “But she got the Glory, and powerful, and you be keerful, real keerful, ’round her. She ain’t a proper woman.” And she held up her hand to stop any more questions. “I’ll ’splain later, when y’all know more. Right now, I reckon I need a big cuppa tea, right quick.”
Anna kept touching h
er hair with delight as they made their way back to the cabin; once they got there, Aunt Jinny poured them both cups of tea, and for the longest time just sat there with her cup in her hand, not drinking at all. Anna kept quiet, leaving her aunt with her own thoughts.
Finally she drank the entire cup in one long gulp and set it down. “Fer some reason, Jolene thinks kindly of y’all, girl,” her aunt said, looking at her penetratingly. “She respects me, but she thinks kindly of y’all. Maybe on account of yore young. Don’t ’spect that t’last. She’s got her own ways an’ her own notions, an’ do not ever get ’twixt her and somethin’ she wants. The ‘kindly’ face’ll turn stormy in a heartbeat, an’ I mean the kinder storm what flattens crops an’ kills what’s in its path.”
Thet—seems kinda harsh, Anna thought, but she hoped she wasn’t letting her face betray her skepticism.
“Y’all don’t b’lieve me,” Jinny observed. “I’m a-tellin’ y’all, Jolene ain’t a proper woman, she don’t think like us, an’ she’s dangerous. Stay outen her path, things’ll probably be all right. Get in her path, an’ she’ll trample y’all like a runaway hoss without thinkin’ ’bout it twice.”
Well, that seemed a lot more likely. Anna had seen plenty of ruthless women in Soddy, women who were quite willing to knock down and walk over anything and anyone to get what they wanted.
This was just someone—or something—with a different kind of power than social power to get what she wanted.
Cain’t think how I could get a-twixt her and what she wants.
“And don’t go next or nigh her,” Jinny continued. “Not iffen y’all kin he’p it. And make it Yes’m and No ma’am, and real polite. Don’t git her mad.”
“Yes’m,” Anna agreed. Then ventured, “But she was awful nice t’me. She not only give me them hair-pins, she put up my hair fer me.”
“ . . . an’ it looks plumb fine, too,” Aunt Jinny admitted. “I cain’t account fer that. It don’t make no sense, ’cause—” She paused, searching for words. “Y’all iver see big hoss, a herd mare what knows she’s in charge?”
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