Escape to Witch City

by E. Latimer

  No one spoke for a moment, and Emma found herself reeling. It wasn’t even so much his apology that shocked her, but the way he said “Her Majesty,” all loaded with scorn, as if they were the most repulsive words imaginable. No witch hunter or soldier would dare speak about the queen in that tone.

  McCraw turned to the person seated next to him, an older woman who’d been mostly ignoring the exchange up until now, and seemed to be in the midst of pouring him tea. She had blond hair, shot through with white, and dark, serious eyes. Emma realized with a start that the woman looked just like McCraw.

  “Meet my mother,” McCraw said, “the reason I was so desperate to find this city. She was driven from London years ago, when the hunts were still going on. I suspected she’d ended up here. That’s why I joined the hunters in the first place, why I was so driven to rise up in the ranks. I knew they were actually looking for the city, and that they might have leads I could use. And it worked.”

  Beside her, Eliza and Maddie looked stunned, but they had both relaxed a little.

  Emma shook her head vehemently, first at them and then at him. “No, he’s lying. You’re lying.” She jabbed a finger at him. “After you disappeared, you came back. You followed us through Hyde Park, and in the woods. I heard you.”

  McCraw frowned. “I’m sorry, but you’re mistaken. I arrived two days ago. I showed up here just after I…er, left. I’m sorry I left you in the room to face that monster, if that’s what you’re angry about.” His expression grew very sober. “Trust me, I thought about that a lot after I arrived here, but Lenore assured me you’d escaped. Said she’d been keeping an eye on you lot.”

  He was lying. Why?

  “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “Well, at least your friend has some common sense, Eliza.” The person who’d said this, a wizened old woman with a cloud of curly white hair, sat at the opposite end of the table glaring at the witch hunter. “I almost hexed him when he showed up this morning, bold as can be!”

  The woman had to be ancient, Emma suspected, but she sat up straight on the bench, and her gaze was sharp as she glanced around at them.

  Eliza laughed, and then slid onto the bench beside the old woman, taking one of her weathered hands in her own. “Gran, this is Emma.” She glanced up, smiling. “Em, this is my gran.”

  Emma’s awe over meeting the leader of the last London coven distracted her from glaring at McCraw. At least temporarily.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Ms.…”

  “Call me Granny El.” The old woman waved a hand at her, dark eyes twinkling. Now that the woman was smiling, Emma could see where the laugh lines came from. “You girls helped my granddaughter, and the way I see it, you need all the family you can get. I’m much obliged to you all for helping her get through.”

  “She helped us.” Emma shot Eliza a look, and Eliza ducked her head, clearly embarrassed. “She’s the one who helped me to finally start accepting my power.”

  The old woman grinned and patted Eliza’s hand. “That doesn’t surprise me at all. I knew my girl would get by. The ambassador said there was a plan afoot to get you all out. I wasn’t worried one bit.”

  “The ambassador?” Maddie repeated. “You know her as well?”

  “Who do you think helped the coven escape?” The old woman’s smile tightened. “Irvingland has been helping us for years. There’s an entire underground rebellion the queen knows nothing about. Why do you think they built that iron monstrosity, the Witch Express? We keep stealing our people out from under their noses.”

  Good for oranges and not much else. The insulting rhyme seemed rather ironic now.

  “That’s what she gets for underestimating an entire country, the little fool,” Granny El muttered.

  There was a loud, echoing pop, and Lenore appeared abruptly, right behind Maddie, who squawked and dropped the piece of toast she was holding.

  “Look who it is,” Lenore said, and stepped aside.

  It was Edgar. He was red in the face, and his hair was rumpled, but he also had a sparkle in his eye Emma hadn’t seen before. When he saw them, he grinned widely. “Last of all, of course. But still, I’m here.”

  Emma returned his grin, and then surprised herself by flinging her arms around him, hugging him fiercely. “I’m so glad you made it!”

  Eliza and Maddie followed, and Edgar blushed furiously as they piled onto him, hugging him all at once. He gave an indignant yelp when Maddie said tearfully, “I thought for sure you would die!”

  “Thanks for that vote of confidence.”

  “How did it go?” Eliza finally broke away, and they all slowly separated, leaving Edgar looking even more rumpled than before.

  Edgar looked around at them, suddenly beaming. “I remembered what you said, Em.”

  Emma blinked, surprised. “What, me?”

  “You asked me what the birds wanted.” He shrugged, biting at his lip. “I never really thought about that until you said it. And then, when I was alone, I remembered that and I just sort of…asked.” He flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, to be honest, I sort of shouted it at them.”

  “And what happened?” Maddie’s eyes were shining.

  “They all went really quiet. It was incredible. And then one of them flew down and got really close, and I actually let him sit on my arm.” He grinned at their shocked expressions. “I know, I know, I was terrified, but…it talked to me!”

  “It did not!” Maddie pressed a hand to her mouth. “Ed, that’s brilliant.”

  “It was.” Edgar’s smile grew even wider. “I can talk to birds—well, just ravens as far as I know. And all they wanted was to help. They led me straight back to the path after that, and all the way to Lenore. It was incredible.”

  “You’ve never tried that before then?” Maddie asked, clearly amused.

  “Well, no.” Edgar looked indignant. He sat down at the table as the others returned to their seats on the bench. “They scared me. I kept ignoring them, hoping they’d go away.”

  “You’ll find magic works in mysterious ways.” Lenore smiled at them. “It sounds like you managed to find the key to unlocking your power.”

  Emma thought about how she’d finally trusted her magic in the In-Between. How she’d reached out for it instead of letting it overwhelm her. And it had worked.

  “Lenore, er, Ms. Black,” Maddie started hesitantly. “We all made it through the In-Between, but are there witches who don’t? I think we may have met one.”

  Emma glanced over at her and they exchanged a look. She shivered, thinking about the horrible, face-shifting monster back in Forest-London.

  “Ah, I think I know who you mean.” Lenore nodded, expression grave. “Just as not all of us are bad, as Alexandria would have you believe, not all of us are good either. Sadly, there are some we’ve had to banish from the city.”

  Emma’s mouth went dry. “Its face kept changing…into us. It chased us.”

  Lenore sighed. “You met the Witch of a Thousand Faces.” She shook her head at Emma’s wide-eyed expression. “Just a silly name the newcomers have given her. She was banished to the In-Between years ago. She can’t come back to Witch City, but I think she believes if she can…get rid of someone, and change into them, she can take their place.”

  Emma shivered, suddenly eager to change the subject. “What is the In-Between, anyway? What’s it for?”

  “Well, it was the original Witch City,” Lenore explained. “The issue was, it sits parallel to London.” A rueful smile played across her lips. “Hundreds of years ago, the founder of New Londinium was betrayed by one of her own. Someone revealed the location. There was an army coming for the witches, and so they had to leave. They set up the new city here, and this time they were more careful. The abandoned city was set up with protection spells to keep those without witch blood out.”

  An army co
ming for them. The thought was enough to make Emma shiver. No wonder everything in Forest-London had seemed so perfectly preserved, as if people had simply dropped everything and left. Because they had.

  “And the dratted thing is always moving.” The low voice of Tobias McCraw startled Emma out of her memories, and she turned and glared at the man.

  “Probably to keep away people like you.”

  The older witch beside McCraw, his mother, shook a finger at Emma. “You leave my son be. He has a good heart. And he’s on our side.”

  Emma clamped her lips shut on her impulse to shout out that he was a liar. She knew what she’d heard in the forest. He’d been following them.

  “Eat up, Edgar,” Lenore said, breaking the tense silence. “After you’re finished, I’ll give you all a tour of the city.” She grasped one of the crystals on her necklace, grinning at them. “Though maybe we’ll walk this time. I don’t think Edgar enjoyed the transportation spell.”

  “I didn’t,” Edgar said mournfully, when Emma glanced sideways at him. “I was nearly sick on her shoes.”

  “I think it’s fun,” Maddie said brightly. “You just go poof! And you’re there.”

  Edgar looked dismal at this. “I’d be happy not poofing ever again, honestly.”

  Granny El seemed unimpressed with the conversation. She stabbed with more force than necessary at the baked potato on her plate. “These newfangled witches and their crystal spells. In my day, we did all the hard work ourselves.”

  “Granny, crystals make it easier to access powerful spells.” Eliza leaned sideways, bumping her shoulder gently. “Not just those with high percentages. That way, magic is available to everyone. No one is better than anyone else.”

  Granny El paused, fork hovering over the potato, and then a wide smile split her face. “Child, how did I manage to raise you this well?”

  “It’s a mystery, Granny.”

  Emma dropped her gaze to her plate, smiling. She couldn’t help feeling a pang of jealousy. The way Eliza and her gran talked to one another was so easy, so loaded with casual affection. It made her chest ache a little to think about home, and the way she and her mother spoke to each other—or screamed, more accurately. It was so different.

  Emma banished the thought and turned her attention back to her breakfast. There was no point thinking about her mother now, or what might have been different had she stayed at the palace. She wasn’t there anymore; she was here, in Witch City, surrounded by others just like her, and she was going to enjoy the food on her plate and think about all of the no-doubt-miraculous things she would see on the tour.

  She finished her toast and eggs, and once the others had finished too, Lenore led them out of the dining room, through the lobby, and onto the steps of the inn.

  Even in the daylight, the winding, cobblestone street was lined on either side by small silver flames set inside globes of glass. It took several minutes to get down the first short stretch of road, because Emma kept slowing to look at them. They had no wick or oil that she could see, so they had to be magic. She had to force herself to keep moving and not stand and stare at them all day. From somewhere up ahead came the faint sound of music.

  The shops on either side of the lane were all very pretty, with striped awnings and hanging lanterns at each of the oval-shaped doors. They passed the window of a knitting shop, hung with the most colorful, wild-patterned blankets Emma had ever seen. There was also a clothesline full of white-and-purple socks, with a tag that read 20 crystals off—today only!

  A sweetshop was next, with candied butterflies made out of spun sugar, enchanted to flutter their wings open and closed. Emma paused for a moment, enraptured. It was almost funny now to think about the horrible rumors that had circulated about Witch City. Here it was—all magical, with glittering streets and spun sugar—and people back in London were frightening one another with tales of murderous fountains and streets that led straight to hell.

  It was all so ridiculous.

  She paused, startled, when a sphere of blue light zipped overhead and then stopped, hovering over the awning above her. It blinked twice, short flashes of light, and then set to flickering like a candle.

  Lenore laughed. “It’s called a Find-Me-Here. They’re faster than familiars for navigating the streets, though they take more magic. A lot of the higher percenters use them.”

  Emma stared up at it, riveted. “Higher percenters.” She paused. “I’m…uh, forty. At least, that’s what The Testing said. Could I use one?”

  “I’m sure you could.” Lenore lifted an eyebrow, looking mildly surprised, before turning away again to stare up at the Find-Me-Here. “We’ve got lots of fifteens and twenties—those are the most common—and even a few single digits who still find a way to get around. Your witch hunter is the first zero percenter we’ve had here.” She grinned. “That will take some getting used to.”

  “About that.” Emma’s stomach flipped, and she cleared her throat, determined to say what was on her mind. “I don’t trust him.”

  As they walked, she told Lenore about hearing his heart in the In-Between, and how she’d confronted him about it over breakfast, how the witch hunter denied it.

  “You’re sure it was his heart?” Lenore’s brow furrowed. “There are plenty of animals in the In-Between, and even other people—witches trying to get to the other side.”

  Now Emma did hesitate. It seemed like too much of a coincidence, but she also didn’t have any absolute proof that it had been him, did she? He’d never actually shown up at the exact moment she was hearing the heartbeat.

  Before she could reply, Lenore reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re right to be wary, Emma,” she said gently. “I don’t blame you. Many people who come from the In-Between are jumpy for days afterward. It’s only natural, after all you’ve been through. But I hope you’ll find it in your heart to give Tobias the same second chance Queen Alexandria should have given all of us witches. He’s come a very long way to reunite with his mother. He’s risking everything just by being here.”

  Emma wasn’t sure what else she could say. It seemed so reasonable when Lenore put it like that, so she only nodded. But as she trailed after the others, and the streets grew busier, she couldn’t help glancing around at the crowds of people walking by, unease tightening her chest. Even with Lenore’s talk of second chances, something didn’t feel quite right.

  They continued on, and the faint music Emma had heard earlier grew louder now. It sounded like a flute, and maybe a fiddle. They passed a few more stores—a clock shop full of ticking and chiming, and a Spirits store that sold beer and wine, but also claimed on a sign out front to have “canned ghosts”—Spirit in a jar! Good for arranged hauntings, driving out late renters, or Samhein Celebrations! Edgar stumbled back from this, muttering that it sounded very dodgy.

  After this, the street intersected with several others, opening up into a large square with a fountain in the center. Next to the fountain was a stage filled with musicians playing pipes and flutes—the source of the music they’d been hearing ever since they left the inn. A dancer stood at center stage, hands lifted to the sky, a pair of heavy-looking horns branching out above his head. The woman across from him had a crown of flowers adorning her dark curls and a white half-moon painted on her brow. They moved in tandem, spinning and swaying, white robes flowing around them.

  It was beautiful, and Emma and the others stood and watched until Lenore said, “The dance is to welcome spring. It’s tradition during the festival. Come this way.”

  They headed deeper into the square, into the thick of the celebration. There were witches everywhere. Many were decked head to toe in flowing dresses and veils, flowers of all colors strewn through their hair. Some had also accessorized with feathers and coins, while others had run a streak of color through their tresses, a sight that had all of them gaping again.

 
The fashions here were far more daring than in London, and the rich purples and velvety greens more vibrant than the dresses in her own closet. It was, Emma thought, like a new dimension of color. She was almost sure it had been achieved by magic.

  There were stalls scattered seemingly at random through the square, and as they got closer to the center, she could see the statue in the middle of the fountain was a witch carved of jade-colored stone, a cauldron perched on one shoulder and a hand stretched up to the sky. Emma recognized her face, strangely enough. She was one of the same women from the statues in the In-Between. This time, though, she was depicted with her chin tilted up defiantly, a cat curling around her skirts. The stream of water trickling from her cauldron fed back into the shallow base at the bottom of the fountain, and the sound of the water mixed with the band’s music.

  Lenore must have noticed her staring, because she stopped to explain. “Abigail Hopper—one of the original founders of this version of New Londinium. She was the one who created the spell to keep the streets moving.”

  Emma gaped up at the statue until she realized the others had continued walking. They were heading eagerly toward the food stands in the center of the market. The stalls were a little bit of everything, it seemed. There were piles of fruit—apples, mangoes, and oranges, plus some brightly colored red fruit Emma had never seen in London—and tables full of a rainbow of fabrics.

  Here in the square she saw more familiars, cats of every color walking alongside witches as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and here and there, a raven or a crow perched on someone’s shoulder. One witch, a tall, skinny man in a dark blue dinner jacket, walked past with a white rat clinging to his sleeve. Edgar shuddered.

  “Will we get a familiar too?” Maddie said, looking around at them eagerly. “Oh, I’d love to get a cat.”

  “You will eventually, if you’d like one.” Lenore paused in the center of the market, just in front of the fountain. “Usually the connection comes when you’ve just begun to master your power. Familiars can be of assistance with that.”