Page 28 of Anathema

“What have you got there, girl?” The gravelly voice from behind me sent a quiver across my spine like a tuning fork. I slowly turned to find The Crone Witch leaning on a wooden cane, much like Agatha’s.

Up close, I could see the pronounced wrinkles in her skin and a scar next to her milky white eye that looked like she’d gone blind.

“I, um … I found this. On the ground.”

Brow quirked, she glanced to the grave and back to me. “You dug it up?”

“No. I mean, I saw it in the ground. And … well, yes.”

A wicked smile curved her lips.

“I’m sorry. I’ll put it back.” I turned to place the egg back beneath the bush.

“It’s yours now, girl. You must take it with you.”

“Do you know what it is?” The clang of the quarter bell startled my muscles, despite being distant from where we stood, and on instinct, I looked toward the sky again.

“It’s your penance. A life for death.”

“Maevyth!” Aleysia called to me from across the field.

“Coming!” I shouted back, but at the grip of my arm, I turned back toward the witch whose eyes were wide and blazing with urgency.

“What do you see, girl?” Her gaze fell to my arm, and she ran her fingers over the scar there.

I wrenched free, nearly dropping the egg tucked into my elbow. “Do not put your hands on me.”

“You see the dead. You hear them speak to you.”

“I hear nothing of the sort. Only those possessed by evil hear such things.”

“Is that so …” Her response made me pause.

“Do you hear voices? Or see the dead?” I asked.

“My sight is far keener for this world. I see a daughter, shunned by her kin.”

“You don’t have to have keen sight to see that.”

“I also know that the delicate black rose doesn’t grow well in these parts. Our winters are far too cold for its fragile roots.”

I puzzled her words and their meaning. Everyone knew I’d been found with a black rose, but maybe she knew something more. Something they didn’t. “Where do they grow?”

“Where the gods see fit to plant them.”

The way she talked in circles had my already muddled head spinning. “You believe in the gods. Not a single god, but many.” Admitting such a thing would’ve been confessing to a crime.

“The god to which you pray fears the power of many.”

“Lyverians worship many gods. Are you Lyverian?”

“Lyverians weren’t the only ones who worshipped many gods.”

“Maevyth!” Aleysia called again, impatience thick in her tone, and I caught a glimpse of her making her way toward the dirt road.

“Coming!” I shouted over my shoulder again, not daring to take my eyes off the witch. “And what happens if this egg should hatch?”

“It begs the question … what happens when the dead return from the grave?” Her dark chuckle sent a shiver down my spine. “Go now, girl. Wouldn’t want you to get swept away like two curious boys.”

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