by E. Latimer
In the distance, the announcer was saying, “Step up, children, nothing to fear. Her Illustrious Majesty, the queen, has taken you under her wing, and you never have to be afraid again.”
Nothing to fear. Just a possible blood connection to an actual witch and a strange power she couldn’t get rid of. Her stomach turned.
“Illustrious Majesty, honestly.”
Emma turned, mouth hanging open, to look at the girl with the butterscotch curls. She had a very freckly face and light-blue eyes.
“Do you think his lips get sore from kissing her bustle the way he does?” She snorted, arms folded over her chest.
Emma’s eyes went wide, and she stepped back from the girl. “Y-you can’t say that!” She darted a look over her shoulder, alarmed to see that the nearest witch hunter was only a few feet away. “You want to go straight onto the Witch Express?”
The girl smirked at Emma. “I’m not particularly worried.”
“Not…worried,” Emma repeated faintly.
They’d moved forward again. Emma glanced over at the girl, wondering if her family had been out of town for some time. Perhaps they’d forgotten what things were like in the city. That was the only explanation she could think of. She’d been to enough court sentencings to know that treasonous talk could get you a very long visit to the dungeons, or worse, Re-Tested.
The other girl was still talking. “I’ve heard Witch City has streets made of hot coals.”
“I think that’s hell, actually.” Emma turned back to the tents, standing on her tiptoes to try to get a better view as the nurses guided a girl with curly red hair through the tent flap. “Besides, no one even knows if it’s real.”
“No, I’m fairly certain. I have a third cousin who’s been there.”
This brought Emma’s attention back to the girl. She was so casual about it, as if her third cousin had simply been there on holiday.
“You’re up next,” was all the girl said, and Emma whipped around to see the tall girl in the white dress and pink jacket being guided past the tent flaps by a smiling nurse.
It felt a little like she’d swallowed a number of live eels. Emma pressed a hand to her chest, breathing in deeply. She was next.
“Are you nervous?” The freckled girl seemed determined to have a conversation. She was shifting from foot to foot, speaking very rapidly. “I’m not nervous, are you? I’m Madeline, by the way. Though I like to be called Maddie for short. What’s your name? It’s a good thing they’ve figured out how to test our blood, don’t you think? Did you know, they used to just sort of guess at it, or wait until you accidentally blew someone up with magic or something?”
Emma was about to say that she did know, thank you very much. Everyone knew the history. Where had this girl come from?
Before she could reply with what would have been an admittedly snarky response, there came a loud crack and a shout from behind the fence. Both girls spun around.
A plume of black smoke was spiraling up into the air, sending a ripple of alarm through the crowd.
What on earth was that?
Witch hunters were running toward the fence from every direction now, and the sight was enough to make Emma’s heart stop in her chest.
A moment later, the source of the smoke came into view, and Emma’s mouth dropped open. Two of the soldiers were attempting to drag a girl between them, and a nurse in a white coat was hovering nearby, a long needle in one hand, as the girl bucked and kicked. The girl was struggling fiercely, and she appeared to be giving the soldiers far more trouble than someone her size should have been able to.
More astonishing still, she appeared to be on fire. Her arms flickered with orange flames. Seconds later, one of the witch hunters reached the odd little group. He snatched a blanket off a cart mid-sprint and threw it over the girl, smothering the fire.
“Hold her still! I need to get her percentage!” This shout was from the nurse, and a shriek of outrage could be heard from beneath the blanket as the woman in the white coat jumped forward, extracted the girl’s arm, and plunged the needle in, drawing a measure of blood.
Emma felt ill just watching it. She continued to stare, mouth still gaping, as the soldiers dragged the girl past the gate. Then Emma couldn’t see anything more, though she could still hear the outraged shrieks for another few seconds.
For a long moment, Emma and Maddie both stared at the gap in the fence. Finally, Maddie spoke. “Think she might be a witch?”
Emma nodded slowly, eyes still fixed on the fence.
Her pulse was racing, blood rushing in her ears. She’d just seen magic. The discovery of a witch.
And she was next.
In the moments after the burning witch had been dragged past, the buzz from the crowd outside the fence began to die down. As the noise settled, Emma could hear a steady thump-thump, thump-thump, disturbingly clear. It seemed to be growing louder with each step she took toward the white tent, with each trembling breath she dragged in. She clutched her fists at her sides, wishing her hands would stop shaking.
She didn’t even know whose heart she was hearing. She rarely did. Each heart sounded slightly different, and this one had a quick double beat after every third pulse, so fast she would have missed it if it wasn’t so loud in her ears.
Grinding her teeth, she concentrated once again on picturing herself slamming the door shut.
Be quiet!
“It’s not as if I set myself on fire. And I really don’t want to go to Scotland. I hear it’s damp, and there’s hardly any cities at all,” Maddie was saying, and Emma realized she’d been talking this whole time. She hadn’t heard a word. “Anyway, I just want to get this over with.”
“Go ahead of me.” The words seemed to burst out of her. For a moment Maddie only blinked at her, so Emma cleared her throat and continued. “If you want. Go ahead and you can get it over with.”
She couldn’t be tested right now, not when the Noise was like this. Maddie had to go first, to give her time to clear her head.
Thankfully, the other girl nodded. “Alright, if you’re okay with it.”
Maddie stepped hesitantly forward just as the flap was pushed aside and the nurse in the white coat poked her head out. Her hair was frazzled and her face flushed, but she still gave Emma a strained smile.
“Ready, Miss?”
Emma stiffened, but Maddie pushed forward before she could say anything. “She’s agreed to let me go first.”
The nurse nodded and waved her forward. Emma’s shoulders slumped in relief as Maddie vanished into the tent without a backward glance.
She frowned, staying very still while she tried to force the Noise back. This time she shut her eyes and tried to picture the door as clearly as she possibly could—tall and thick, made of oak, locks all down the side. She pictured herself slamming it shut, hard, and sliding the locks into place with a thud, thud, thud.
Gradually the frantic thumping faded, and Emma let out a breath of relief.
She ought to thank Maddie for giving her the extra time. Maybe when she got out of the test she’d find the other girl in the crowd.
Curious, she edged forward, grasping the canvas tent flap and peeling it back an inch, revealing just a sliver of the space inside. If she concentrated, she could hear what was being said. One of the nurses had guided Maddie into a chair and was crouched in front of her, back facing Emma.
“Just a little pinch,” she said, and Maddie stiffened, her eyes closed.
Emma chewed the inside of her cheek, suddenly nauseated.
The nurse turned, handing off the needle to a second nurse who was waiting at a long table in the far corner of the tent. Emma couldn’t quite see what the second nurse was doing, but when she turned around she was holding a vial of murky liquid, which was rapidly turning a dark shade of purple.
What did that mean?
The nurse turned, holding up a piece of paper beside the vial. Emma could see it had swatches of various shades of purple on it. “Twenty percent,” she said, surprise clear in her tone.
Emma’s stomach dropped, but Maddie didn’t move in the chair. Instead, she looked directly at the nurse with the vial and said in a loud, clear voice, “Five percent.”
The nurse blinked at her. Emma expected the woman to call the soldiers in. But that’s not what happened at all. The nurse just shook her head slowly and said, “Five…uh, five percent.”
The nurse by the chair turned to her colleague, her face shocked. She started to say something, but Maddie tugged on her sleeve, and when the nurse turned back Maddie repeated firmly, “Five percent.”
“Five percent,” the second nurse murmured, her face slack. She shuffled to the back of the tent and pulled up the flap. “Off you go.”
Emma watched, astonished, as Maddie got out of the chair and gave the nurse a cheeky wave before walking straight out. The nurse dropped the tent flap and turned back to the chair.
Maddie was gone.
And Maddie was a witch.
It took a moment to sink in. There had been no black eyes. No rotten teeth. No ghoulish, pale skin. Her hair hadn’t even curled wildly about her face, like in the drawing of Lenore. Maddie had just looked like…a girl.
Emma didn’t get much time to recover from the shock, because a moment later one of the nurses was walking straight toward her. Emma dropped the tent flap she’d been holding and stepped back, heart beating furiously against her rib cage.
By the time the nurse opened the tent flap, her face was composed again. She looked completely normal, and Emma realized she had absolutely no clue what had just happened. She might never realize she’d let Maddie walk straight out the back, even though she was unquestionably a witch.
For a split second, Emma wondered if she should tell her. Witches were dangerous. They enjoyed hurting people; they were toxic and evil.
But Maddie hadn’t seemed evil, just nervous and a bit chatty.
“Come in,” the nurse said. She gave Emma a reassuring smile, her blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “Nothing to worry about, just a little pinch and you’re off to the races.”
Emma found herself ushered straight into the tent before she could say anything.
The interior was very white and sterile looking. Someone had spread a large woven mat over the cobblestones, which muffled the sound of Emma’s shoes as she moved farther inside. The space smelled of cleaning products, and there was a tiny hospital station set up on one side: two white cabinets and a long wooden table covered in glass vials and medical equipment, the sight of which sent a shudder of cold terror through her.
There was a pair of tall gas lamps set on poles on either side of the tent, with wide shades at the back—something Emma had never seen before. They cast light straight down into the middle of the space, toward a wooden chair and table in the center.
There a second nurse waited, a reassuring smile on her face as well.
Emma couldn’t seem to take her eyes off the medical equipment, and as the nurse pressed one hand to the small of her back and ushered her forward, she felt a bit faint.
“You’ll feel a little pinch.” The nurse paused after this and squinted. Emma’s stomach dropped.
Sure enough, a moment later the nurse’s eyes went wide. “You’re Lady Isolde’s daughter, aren’t you? I’ve seen you at court.”
Emma nodded, and the nurse seemed to pick up on the fact that she had no desire to chat, because she smiled and patted her arm. “It’s fast. Don’t worry, dear. All ready?”
She wasn’t, but she nodded again and clamped her lips shut tight, clenching her teeth as the nurse rolled back her sleeve. She shut her eyes and winced as she felt the cold pinch in her arm, staring determinedly at the table beside her, at the glass vials set on their metal stands, at the clear liquid glittering under the lamps.
“Just about done,” the nurse said. “There we are.”
Emma’s eyes fluttered open. She watched as the nurse sunk the needle tip into a glass jar and transferred it over to her colleague. The second nurse tipped the slender jar over a wide-mouthed glass vial part-filled with water, which was set into a metal stand on the center of the table. A crimson drop of blood slipped below the surface of the water and spread out in a miniature cloud.
Next, the nurse swapped the glass tube of blood out for another, which was full of thick purple liquid, and repeated the process.
Thistle, Emma realized, as the nurse let a single thick drop of liquid out. In spite of the entire process being terrifying, it was all sorts of fascinating too. The books she’d read had talked about the discovery of thistle—the one thing that had turned the tides of war and returned the kingdom to the royals. Queen Alexandria had discovered that the plant weakened witches. But how exactly did they use it to detect your percentage?
The nurse took the vial and swirled it around until the water turned a light purple color. She then fitted the vial back onto the stand and turned a knob on the bottom. A flame flickered up at the base of the glass jar.
Emma’s fingers curled tightly, nails biting into her palms as the liquid in the vial slowly changed. It went from light purple to violet rapidly, and then darkened slowly, a bit at a time.
The nurse’s brows went up again, but this time her face was very pale, and she was silent as she reached into her pocket and held up the chart Emma had seen her use with Maddie. She rotated it, holding it up beside the jar, until the color on the paper matched the liquid in the glass vial almost exactly.
The nurses exchanged a frightened look, and the bottom dropped out of Emma’s stomach as the one with the card turned back to her, eyes round.
“Oh dear. Forty percent.”
Everything happened very quickly after that.
Emma was escorted out the back of the tent and into a waiting coach. It was a sleek black carriage with the royal emblem on the door—a flowering thistle winding up a tall oak staff. She took stock of this from far away, as if she were looking through her own eyes from a considerable distance. Someone else was walking forward, climbing the stairs of the carriage, sliding over the cushioned velvet seat.
She felt like someone had reached into her gut and hollowed her out.
The shock inside her echoed and rebounded back on itself, growing and expanding, until the only thing she felt was numb.
None of it seemed real.
The carriage door slammed shut behind her, making her start, and she found herself sitting across from none other than witch hunter and demoted captain Tobias McCraw himself. The sight of him seemed to jerk her momentarily back to reality. Some of the shock dissolved as she edged back against the seat, eyes narrowed.
Neither of them said anything. Tobias McCraw turned to stare out the window, and Emma held her breath, hands gripping the seat very hard.
Again she was struck by how young he looked. Up close, she could see that his blue eyes were distant and a little glassy, almost haunted. And one was ringed with a faded bruise, as if someone had punched him in the eye.
He shifted on his seat, smoothing one hand over his chin, gaze flitting back to her as the carriage began to move. “I’ll be your escort today, Ms. Black. I’m afraid I need to ask you a few questions.”
She shifted her gaze quickly to the floor and nodded, trying to concentrate on breathing deeply and evenly. Some of the shock seemed to be settling in now: her ears were ringing, and she felt a little dizzy. She could feel sweat dampening the back of her dress.
“Have you had contact with any other witches?”
She looked up at him, startled. He was staring at her with narrow blue eyes.
“No. I don’t know any. Why would I?” The dread curled and roiled in her stomach before settling like a brick, and she forced herself to meet his stare and
hold it.
He frowned, clearing his throat. “Alright. What do you know about this so-called Witch City?”
Emma only blinked at him, mind racing. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected him to ask, but it wasn’t this. “I’ve heard it’s not real. My tutor said it was all rumors. But then…maybe that’s not true.” She tilted her head, curiosity overcoming her fear for the moment. “Why else would you be asking?”
The witch hunter shifted on his seat. “I’ll ask the questions, Miss.”
But it appeared he was done, because through the window, she could see they were pulling into a station. As they began to slow, she caught a glimpse of a huge black train—the Witch Express—and just beyond it, tracks leading into a tunnel that disappeared under the ground. She looked away quickly, focusing instead on the plush carpet on the carriage floor, clutching herself with both arms to stop the trembling.
As they rolled to a stop, she looked up to see another black carriage leaving the station, curtains drawn. She caught a glimpse of the royal crest on the side.
Another witch for the train, no doubt.
McCraw sat still for a moment, eyes searching her face. It was as if he thought she’d been lying, that she did in fact know something about Witch City that she wasn’t telling him. His jaw twitched slightly, and for a moment Emma thought she saw a flicker of emotion there. Frustration, maybe. It was gone as fast as it had come though, and he sighed and slid sideways on the seat, clumping heavily down the carriage steps to hold the door open for her. Emma was startled when he offered her his hand, and after a moment of hesitation she took it, allowing him to help her down the steps.
“Just this way, my lady.”
Ah yes. That was why he was being so polite. She might be an accused witch, but she was still a royal, at least for now…
Emma tried not to look too hard at the train as they approached the tracks, feeling her stomach swoop wildly. She didn’t want to see the heavy iron plates on the sides, or the thick bars on the windows.