Page 11 of Baldr's Secret Mate

The hut was more run-down than I expected. It had taken me until nearly noon the next day to actually find it. Loki’s directions weren’t exactly specific, but they got me there eventually with the help of my nose. The clearing was there just like he said with the pond out front and a mossy roof. And even though there was snow everywhere else, it seemed to have left the witch’s clearing untouched. Everything in her domain was still green and vibrant, like it was the height of summer.

I spent the better part of twenty minutes walking around her clearing still in my wolf form, checking the area for strange hints of magic. However, no matter how much I kept my nose to the ground, her clearing seemed, for lack of a better word, inviting. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that might be the trap. It wasn’t that some evil magic would spring the moment anyone got close, but that she wanted them to come in. Like a spider drawing her prey into a web, she needed someone to feed on. And if Loki’s description about her stealing life force was true, that’s exactly what she was trying to do by luring people in.

No wonder her sanctuary was always green and lively.

Going back to the far side of the clearing, I let my wolf form melt away. I landed in the snow on my hands and knees and quickly pulled my backpack open to retrieve my clothing. As soon as I was dressed, I picked the bag up, slung it over my shoulder, and stepped into the green circle of grass.

The temperature shifted instantly. It was like I’d just stepped into a massive heated greenhouse. In a matter of seconds I could feel the sweat gathering under my coat as the heat seeped in. All around me the wildflowers were in full bloom, tricked into splendor well outside of their season by her magic. Honeybees buzzed here and there, collecting pollen for their hives. The entire scene was magical and yet somehow… disturbing.

But I didn’t have any more time to waste. I needed answers about Mist and his imprisonment. So, without hesitation, I strode across the vibrant lawn toward the hut. To my surprise, there was an orange glow from within, like a roaring fire was burning in the hearth. And before I made it to the front door, I heard the latch click and the hinges creak as it swung open.

“Come in,” a gentle raspy voice said from inside. “All travelers are welcome with Madam Hecate.”

I had to stop myself from scoffing. Madam Hecate was a very pretentious name for a witch living in the woods. Was she decently powerful? Yes. But was she the mother goddess of all witches? I think not. Before I’d even stepped foot in her house, she’d given herself away for what she really was. A scam artist. Only those with little power would claim to have all of it. But she didn’t know she was dealing with another witch. At least not yet.

Up the steps I went, playing it shy as I stepped inside her hut. I glanced up at her, noticing her nearly white eyes. As I got closer, I realized they were actually gray, but unsettlingly so.

“Hello, my dear,” she nodded, pulling a kettle off the roaring fire. She stepped over to the table where two cups and a plate of cookies was already waiting. Clearly she’d been expecting company. “What brings you to my neck of the woods?” She poured one cup and then the other, the steam rising from the fine china teacups. “Not lost are you?”

“Actually… I came looking for you,” I said, still trying to play the innocent role. “I need to help a friend, but I don’t know how.”

“Come. Sit. Tell Madam Hecate all about it and she’ll see what she can do.” She gestured to a chair on the opposite side of a small round table. “Have a cup of tea to warm your bones.”

I took a seat opposite her, taking my chance to glance around the cabin. As far as I could tell, everything looked fairly normal. It was small and a single room save for the bathroom tucked into one corner. Despite the old world decor and the mysterious dark glass bottles on the shelves, it seemed like she wasn’t willing to skip on modern plumbing. Her bed was tucked into the opposite corner and draped in many hand knit blankets. Herbs and flowers hung upside down from the ceiling. It was an extremely witchy aesthetic and part of me wondered if it was all for show. Then again, living out here in the mountains all by herself meant she probably had to fend for herself most of the time.

“Here,” she smiled, pushing the cup of amber tea in front of my place. “Now tell me about your friend that needs my help.”

I lifted the cup, savoring the warmth after traveling all night through cold and snow. Giving it a cautious sniff, I detected no malevolent ingredients. And, when I took a sip, I found it to be kind of delightful. The old crone could brew a mean cup of tea.

“Thank you,” I said, pulling the cup from my lips. “My friend is in trouble… well, I guess more like he’s under some kind of spell.”

“Is that so?” She seemed bemused by that claim. “How do you know?”

“We met the witch that cast it on him.”

“Well, that leaves little doubt to the contrary then.”

“And now he’s trapped.” I paused for a moment, twisting the truth to keep her from suspecting my lies. “He can’t leave his house. It’s like there’s an invisible force holding him in and he’s been stuck in there for days.”

“And you want to get him out?”

“Of course!”

She placed her cup down on the saucer before holding her hand out. “Can I see your palm?”

“Sure.”

I put my own cup out and reached out my right hand. But the moment her fingers touched mine, she pulled away, as if shocked.

“Oh,” she murmured, a smile crossing her lips. “You have some power of your own I see.”

I nodded, sticking to my half-truths. “Yes. But not enough. I have visions now and then, but nothing that can help my friend.” I lifted my gaze to meet her cold gray eyes. “I need someone with real power.”

She smiled wide, soaking up the attention. Clearly she enjoyed the praise, and I was happy to give it to her if that meant getting what I needed. I had to butter her up if I was going to help Mist and she couldn’t know it was him until it was too late.

With her strangely long, thin fingers, she pulled my hand toward her, turning my palm upward. She traced a single finger over the creases in my hand, humming under her breath as she stared.

“A full heart I see,” she smiled. “You must care for your friend very much.”

---