The hag pushed a door and stepped aside while it swung open. The voices in Edna’s head grew louder. She pressed her hands over her ears, wincing, and the evil crept out from her heart. Ike cupped her elbow and stepped into the room. The hag remained in the hallway, smiling sleekly. Edna suppressed a shudder as she entered.
The air smelled of jasmine and lavender. Muted light filtered through a barred window. The rest drifted off the gas lamps on the walls. A fire crackled in a small hearth, over which hung a copper teapot. A woman had her back to the doorway as she sat on a red settee, her body clothed in a maroon shawl.
The door shut behind Edna and she jumped. An elderly man stood with his hand on the brass knob, a pipe held between his thin lips.He stood seven feet tall, his body as thick as a log. Veins bulged from his long neck. His forehead peeked over his beady silver eyes in his egg-shaped head. He removed the pipe and blew smoke into the air.
Edna’s eyes widened. An ogre. She’d seen a few before at the Moser Summer Fair. With bulging muscles and arms so long their hands reached their shins, humans used them to pull carts around the fair. Passengers squealed in excitement and laughed at the deformed creatures.
Ogres were always male. They married hags, and their children were either hags or ogres, depending on the gender. Since Ike’s mother was a hag, if she’d married an ogre, Ike would’ve resembled an ogre, rather than looking human. Unlike the ogres at the fair who wore brown smocks, this ogre dressed in a white blouse with a black jacket overtop and matching pants, as though he were a gentleman. A red scarf tied at his neck.
“How can I help you?” The woman on the settee spoke, a guttural sound Edna had heard before.
Mother Sambucus.
Edna pressed her knuckles into her mouth to keep from whimpering. Shivers crawled over her body.
Ike bowed. “My younger brother and I are here to offer our services. We’re hunters, ma’am, and I’ve heard you’re eager for fresh Nix game.”
Mother Sambucus leaned forward, humming before she spoke. “Come here.”
Ike moved without hesitation. He didn’t motion, but Edna knew she’d better follow or appear suspicious. Stepping around the settee revealed what Mother Sambucus kept in her lap.
A little girl knelt with her hand held by Mother Sambucus. The child had thinning gray hair, balding spaces visible on her skull as though she were a tomtar. Like the girl downstairs, her silvery ears pointed at the tops.
“What else do you hunt?” Mother Sambucus lifted a sewing needle from her lap. Turquoise thread dangled from the end.
Ike shrugged. “Whatever you need.”
Edna wrapped her arms around herself to suppress a shudder, picturing the foxkin she’d freed from Waxman Estate. In her absence, how many others had Lord Waxman hunted? Other estates, other parties, other foxkins chased down to their doom. So much death and fear in the kingdom. Edna sucked on her lower lip.
“Do you poach?” Mother Sambucus tugged on the silk thread as though testing its strength.
Ike grinned. “Gotta eat.”
Mother Sambucus smiled, sliding the needle tip through the child’s thumb. Edna gasped, but the child’s glazed eyes stared forward.
“What are you doing?” Edna squeaked.
“Only what needs to be done.” The hag nodded. “I will sew her hand together. Then, I will sew her hand beneath her arm. I shall repeat that on the other side. Without her hands, wings will start to grow.”
Like the girl downstairs, this child had a family somewhere. That family looked at a cogling and thought their daughter was safe, but instead she suffered beneath a hag’s wickedness.
Edna curled her hands into fists, aching to sew Mother Sambucus together, to watch the hag writhe and beg. Edna would ask her, “How do you like the feeling?”
Mother Sambucus laughed as if she knew Edna’s thoughts, as if she reveled in her power. “Each time a pair of wings grows, I shall pluck them off, and a new set will begin. Fresh wings are a delicacy. All it takes is a little powder rubbed on her back.”
Edna blanched. If she grabbed the child, the hags and ogres would attack.
“We were saying, about hunting,” Ike prompted.
Mother Sambucus sewed the child’s fingertips. “How much do you want to be paid?”
“A pound a skin?”
“Or”—Mother Sambucus looked up with her brow furrowed—“perhaps you want your brother back, Miss Mather?”
Mark the way, and so you did.
he room tilted. Edna grabbed the back of the settee to stay upright and Ike flung his arms toward her.
She tried to think of how to deny the claim, but it felt as though a thick blanket had descended over her thoughts, scattering them.
Mother Sambucus smiled to reveal her crooked teeth. “Did you think technology and magic could trick me? Why don’t you take off those silly headbands?”
Edna fought to remain conscious as dizziness clawed her mind. From the doorway, the ogre chuckled deep within his throat. The evil raced along her body as though to push back the hag’s power.
“Ike.” Mother Sambucus pulled the thread tighter and the little girl swayed forward. “How did you like Moser City?”
Ike’s right hand twitched. “I wasn’t there.”
The blanket over Edna’s thoughts lifted a little as the evil surged in fuller force. Her heartbeat sped as she studied the square window. They couldn’t make it through the door—the ogre held a cane, and outside the other hag waited.
Mother Sambucus clicked her tongue. “I saw you. Why else have I been going to Moser City so often?”
“You don’t need me.” He lifted his fist. “You already took my mother.”
Edna gaped at him as his face scrunched.
“You can still do a lot. You were born of two noble bloodlines, a mixture of hag and human.” Mother Sambucus slid the needle through the girl’s palm, curling the child’s fingers. The hag put her hand over the child’s and squeezed. The room filled with an audible crack of bone.
“You broke her hand!” Anger bit at Edna’s belly. Why didn’t Ike fight for the child? She’d never seen him back down. They needed to stop arguing with Mother Sambucus and take action.
“I broke her knuckle. Her hand needs to be much tinier than it is now so she can’t claw free.”
The hags knew who they were; they had to escape and plan anew. Hoping Ike would follow her lead, Edna ran toward the window, but the velvet carpet lifted off the floor. She tripped and smashed into the wall. Pain flared through her shoulder, but she gritted her teeth. The carpet wrapped around her body, pinning her arms to her side.
“She hasn’t done anything,” Ike growled.
Mother Sambucus broke another of the girl’s knuckles. “I know why Edna is here.”
“Stop hurting that girl.” Edna struggled against the rug. “The child can’t fight back. Leave her alone.” Another crack.
“I’ve been waiting for you to come home, Ike,” Mother Sambucus purred. “Your father loves you, doesn’t he? Do you think he’s forgotten you yet?”
Ike paled. “I’m half-hag. Humans don’t care about me.”
“Your father does.” Mother Sambucus snapped the thread and pulled what remained from her needle. “Other hand, dear.”
The girl cradled her broken hand to her chest and held out the other, eyes still glazed. Edna tried to see a spark of resistance in them, or even a glimpse of fear, something to show the child was still awake inside her body.
“The other humans won’t let my father care.” Ike gritted his teeth.
Mother Sambucus nodded to the ogre at the door. “Take Miss Mather to the Hemlock.”
“You’ve got another Hemlock?” Ike roared.
“There will always be a fresh Hemlock.” Mother Sambucus rethreaded her needle with a new strand.
“Ike, what’s a Hemlock?” If Ike’s reaction meant anything, it had to be something dire.
Edna screamed when the ogre grabbed her face to rip off t
he headband. Her skin rippled, ruining the illusion, and pain exploded in her skull.
Ike rushed toward her, but a thread slithered from Mother Sambucus’s sewing basket to tangle around his legs, and he plummeted to the floor.
“Ike!” The rug stayed wrapped around Edna’s torso, but allowed her legs movement, so she slammed her heels into the floor. Grunting, the ogre heaved her toward the door. The evil bit at the rug, singeing the fibers closest to her skin. It burned through her skin to leave those fibers blackened, smoking. Did she dare give the evil greater reign?
“A Hemlock is a human.” Ike tore at the thread, but it held fast. “Forced to mate with a hag or ogre to mix human dreams with magic. Mother Sambucus, you cannot make Edna the next Hemlock.”
“I’ve already got one of those. Edna will be happy serving her.”
“That’s disgusting,” Edna spat. The door opened as they approached it and the hag in the hallway nodded to the ogre, with a smirk directed at Edna. The dream of freeing Harrison slipped from Edna’s horizon. Panic welled in her throat.
She glanced back into the sewing room, but Ike didn’t look up as he struggled with his bonds.
“Ike, I’ll find you,” she called. The door slammed, yet Mother Sambucus’s cackle followed them into the hallway.
“Release me.” Edna bit at the ogre’s hands, but couldn’t reach. He dragged her downstairs, each step jolting her body. Her teeth bit her tongue and blood filled her mouth. She spit it out, a crimson trickle on the carpet.
He paused beside a doorway.
“You’re a brute,” Edna screamed. “A nasty, foul…” Her rant trailed off as she caught a glimpse inside the room. Children sat on stools knitting scarves as colorful as a rainbow. Dream powder drifted toward the ceiling, rising from their graying bodies.
A boy dressed in a girl’s linen nightgown worked near the center. Dull brown hair hung around his face, his cheekbones protruding above his parted lips. Gray crept over his skin.
“Harrison,” Edna whispered. Rage swept through her veins and she fought harder against her bonds. The evil swept through her like a wave. “Harrison! It’s me, Edna. Harrison.”
The ogre guffawed. “He don’t hear.”
A few running steps would take her to his side. “Harrison, wake up!” How could she be so close, yet unable to reach? Tears burned her eyes. She would hold him against her, kiss his forehead, promise him safety.
Yet she was just as trapped as he was. Odds bobs to it all.
“Harry!” Her voice cracked on his name as the ogre yanked her down the hallway. “No, stop!”
The ogre dragged her around corners and down stairs until they exited the factory. He had to turn sideways to fit through the door. His bulk beneath his clothes jiggled, and his double chin swayed.
“Bloody humans,” her captor muttered. “World will be fine an’ dandy once the lot o’ you are out of our cities.”
Edna would run back into the factory and stab Mother Sambucus through the eye with her own needle. She would sweep Harrison away before they could sew him together.
The ogre shoved her forward and the rug tightened. Frustrated tears stabbed her eyes. Her foot sank into muck, making her stumble. Her heart beat so hard it ached. A young hag stepped out from behind a willow tree. Fog floated around the trunk. She wore a white dress with a silk robe overtop. It rippled in the breeze around her long legs. Something about her face reminded Edna of someone she’d seen, but before she could place where, the hag pointed at Edna and laughed.
“Love,” the young hag purred before darting into the mist.
If hags swarmed the factory, then Edna would have to get back to the Nix. They’d helped Ike’s mother. She could convince them to help now. First, she had to get away.
Through the trees, a three-story mansion drifted into view. Vines hung from the steeply sloping roof. Black-tinted glass glared in the windows. The hag in white, who’d before been beside the willow, stood on the veranda. She pointed again before running through the door.
Her giggle wafted into the damp air. “Love, hate.”
The rug, burning on the inside, kept Edna’s arms frozen. She couldn’t turn away from the mansion, couldn’t escape from the hags and ogres, or save anyone. She couldn’t go into the building; she might never escape. Only the Saints knew what awaited within.
The ogre dragged Edna up the stairs, his breathing labored. A soot demon crawled up a pillar to hang upside down from the veranda’s ceiling, hissing at them. It twitched its tail before winding it around its potbelly. Edna struggled harder against the rug, but it tightened. Her lungs throbbed, too constricted to breathe deep. The evil would break through her soon.
Once inside, they faced a wide staircase leading to the second story. The ogre tugged her up, each step creaking. Filth clung to the walls of peeling white paint, cobwebs in the corners and grime on the railing. A miserable place to wallow and perish.
He took her to a door covered in black mold and waved his hand. It opened before he could touch it, and he shoved Edna inside. The door shut and clicked; a key ground in the lock. The rug unwound from around her and she lay still. Freed, only to face a larger cell.
Edna sat up, rubbing the ache from her forehead. The room contained pictures of pressed flowers and gilded mirrors. A dresser stood against the left wall, a wardrobe on the right, and across the door, beneath the room’s only window, lay a bed. Faded blankets heaped around a young woman. She was curled into a ball with her back against the window. Dark hair fell in tangled curls around a sooty face. Dirt streaked her blue silk gown. She wasn’t gray, though.
“Are…” Edna coughed when her voice squeaked. “Are you the Hemlock?”
Tears made glossy trails on the young woman’s cheeks; her chin tipped downward. Matted hair hid her eyes.
“So you’re a human, like me,” Edna added, in case the girl thought she was a hag. Edna stepped on the hem of her dress when she stood and tore the material. The sound filled the room.
The young woman moved with what might have been a shake or a nod.
“Ike said the Hemlock’s a human girl meant to marry an ogre.” Edna paused beside the bed, afraid to touch the other female in case she hurt somewhere. She twirled her prayer beads for something to occupy her fingers.
“So I can have special babies.” The young woman’s voice croaked as if she hadn’t spoken in days. “She said I was a descendant of the first families. Father’s one of the king’s lords.”
“Ike told me that. About the first families. He’s a descendant too. Of the hag line.”
“Then he’s a bloody monster too.” She curled into a tighter ball.
Edna wrinkled her nose. The young woman might’ve been injured and scared, but she didn’t need to throw her anger at Ike. “He’s trying to help me save my brother.”
“Mother Sambucus tricked me,” the young woman snapped.
“We can work together to escape. We can save Ike and Harrison.”
“Give up your false hopes.” She sat up and squinted at Edna. “You. Did my father send you?”
Edna put her hand to her throat.
Lady Rachel.
Do not walk away from me.
hat are you doing here?” Edna pressed her hand over the pocket watch in her sash. She still had her clue for whenever she met the king, and her link to Harrison.
Rachel scowled. “Having a tea party. Don’t be stupid, Ellie.”
Edna recoiled. “You were home at your birthday.”
“Seems Mother Sambucus was waiting for me. Apparently they want to keep me here breathing swamp gas and magic until I mate with a bloody monster.”
She hadn’t joined the hags then, but Rachel sounded too resigned.
Edna grabbed a lamp off the dresser and threw it at the window. The glass case shattered, raining over the bed, and the brass base bounced off the glass. Oil trickled into the mattress.
“Oh, good, we’re free,” Rachel sneered.
“Hush, you’re
not helping.”
A board creaked in the hallway. Edna held her breath. Then the footsteps trailed away. Edna ran to the door and pounded on it. “Let me out! You can’t keep us in here.”
“You radiate with your brilliant ideas,” Rachel muttered.
“The hags won’t free us; they want us trapped.” She rested her forehead against the wood, her chest heaving with pants. “If they don’t want to listen, we will have to outsmart them.” Edna stomped to the bed and climbed up beside Rachel to peer out the window.
“Mother Sambucus told me she’d replaced my body with a cogling.” Rachel shrugged. “Whatever that means.”
Edna clasped her shaking hands in her lap. She pictured Harrison huddled around the machinery, hope fading as the powers ate through his mind, like what had happened to the little girl with glazed eyes who was forced to grow wings. “My brother was only a little gray. I still have time to save him.”
Rachel lay down. “I’ve tried everything to get out of here. Nothing works.”
“There’s always something else.” Edna climbed off the bed to study the door. She ran her fingertip over the keyhole. “Maybe we can find something to poke in there, like a nail.”
“You were never outspoken before.”
“My brother’s in danger. I’m not going to bow to you,” Edna snapped. “I never even liked you.”
Rachel sat up, her bloodshot eyes wide. “What do you mean, Ellie?”
“You were my mistress, but you were always stuck-up and rude. It doesn’t matter if you fire me.” She’d be fired anyway for shirking her duties at Waxman Estate. “And my name is Edna!”
“You’re a cruel, wretched thing. You belong on the streets,” Rachel spat.
Of all the people Edna could be stuck with, it had to be her. Even Teddy, the butler, would be preferable. He would try to fight back instead of whining.
Edna studied the hinges on the door. She pried her fingernail beneath one, but it didn’t loosen. The evil tickled her skin; it could destroy everything, but she might not be able to hold it back if it went that far. Did she dare risk it for Harrison? Untamed, it might hurt him. Edna picked at the lock. “Maybe I can break the knob and reach inside. Odds bobs, I don’t know how it works.”
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