Page 168 of The Black Witch

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

There’s something there. Something in the cottage it wants me to see.

I don’t know why these Watchers came to me with Sage’s wand. I don’t know why they’ve taken such an interest in me to begin with. But I’ve come to realize that when they appear, it’s because they need to show me important things.

I start for the clearing.

“Elloren,” Yvan says, “where are you going?”

“Just give me a moment.”

Geese sound in the distance as I near the cottage.

I hear a crash and jump back in fright. Then an angry male voice.

More shouting. Another crash.

Then a strange shriek, a sound both exotic and heart-wrenchingly familiar.

No, it can’t be.

The door to the cottage flies open, and a young woman runs out, her eyes wild, her face a mask of pure, unadulterated terror. Her movements are unfocused, panicked, as she trips over a stone and falls flat on her face.

My breath catches in my throat. It’s the Selkie from Valgard. The Selkie we were just speaking of.

A beefy, bearded man with stained clothing and an unwashed appearance storms out of the cottage, following close at the Selkie’s heels. He quickly catches up with her, his face red with fury. Before she can get up, he kicks her hard in the side with his heavy black boot.

Fury rocks through me. Fists balled, I start forward, but reason quickly reins me in. I’m no match for the huge groundskeeper. I fall back behind a tree instead, my heart slamming against my chest.

The Selkie lets out a bloodcurdling scream and curls herself into a protective ball, cradling the side where she’s been kicked.

The man grabs her roughly by the arm and wrenches her up into a standing position. “Shut up!” he thunders, shaking her violently as she continues her unearthly shrieking. “I saidshut up, you bitch!”He pulls his free hand back above his head and strikes her so hard that she cries out and falls backward to the ground.

The Selkie cups the side of her head with her hands and rolls onto her side on the ground, her whimper high-pitched and strange.

I turn in desperation to Yvan, quivering with outrage. He stands, frozen in place, mouth agape.

The man is now standing over her, his large hands on his broad hips as the Selkie cowers below him.

“The next time I tell you to do something, you stupid animal,” he bellows as he jabs a sausagy finger in her direction, “you better damn well do it!” He grabs up a ring of keys hanging from a wall hook and storms over to the Selkie, then wrenches her up by her hair.

She gasps as the groundskeeper swipes up a metal collar secured by a heavy chain to a long post. He forces his knee into the Selkie’s back, throws the collar around her neck, locks it into place and pushes her headfirst onto the dusty ground. Then he storms back toward the cottage, throws the ring of keys onto the hook, mutters something about the “damn Selkies” and disappears inside, slamming the door behind him.

The Selkie lies there, whimpering, her eyes closed, her face twisted in despair, a large, bloody red welt now encompassing the side of her face, her lovely silver hair caked with dirt and mud.

Tears of outrage sting at my eyes.Animal or not, how can he be so cruel?

I’m suddenly filled with a wild, desperate idea.

I turn to Yvan, my anger solidifying. “I’m going to rescue the Selkie,” I say, my heart pounding.

His eyebrows fly up.“What?”

I crouch down and make my way toward the Selkie as stealthily as I can, my legs trembling beneath me. “Selkie girl!” I call out in a rough whisper.

Her eyes fly open wide, like two terrified moons, a low moan catching in her throat. She focuses in on me, and her expression abruptly changes as if she remembers me just as well as I remember her.

I retrieve the keys and rush to the Selkie as heavy boot heels sound inside the cottage. Pushing her silver hair aside, I force the key into the lock with shaking hands. I feel a warm flush of surprise when her metal collar opens and falls to the ground with a clank. I motion frantically toward the woods as I pull at her arm.

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