Page 28 of Enthralled

“Ah!” she cries in a sweet voice. “Three of you! But wait a minute, wait a minute. They’ll all want a good look at you.” She turns to the mantel where Mama’s old stationary box sits. She rummages inside, her bristled fingers searching. Then with another satisfied, “Ah!” she bends over, seems to struggle a moment. An unpleasantsquishalmost makes me turn and vomit into the potted plant by the sofa.

When the old woman faces us again, a many-faceted crystal juts from that eye-socket. She flutters her bristled eyelashes, blinking as her focus clears. “Yes, yes!” she says. “I’ve seen the two of you before. But you?” She narrows her gaze at Ilusine, the crystal sparkling. “I don’t know you, do I?”

“Certainly not,” Ilusine answers with offended dignity. “I’m not so foolish as to make bargains with the Blessed Beldames.”

The cronetsks,shaking her head so that the lace ties of her cap waft about her jowls. “Well, lah-dee-dah. A fine princess, are we? Though not so fine as we once were, I dare say. And nursing a broken heart what’s more. Now that is a juicy thing. We might make something of it, if you’re willing.”

Ilusine’s nostrils flare, but the crone turns from her to Danny. “And you! Welcome back, dear boy. You must be pleased to see your bargain so nicely fulfilled. And that dream of yours?Mwha!”She kisses the tips of her fingers before licking her lips lasciviously. “Such a fine morsel.”

At last she turns to me. I want to hide from that crystal, from the observation of I-don’t-know-how-many sisters, gazing at me through those stone facets. Can they sense my fear, my shame? I lift my chin, determined to meet her horrible gaze without blanching.

“And you,” the crone purrs. “That pain of yours—three days of it, wracking your soul. We did not care for the delay, but when it came . . . yes, indeed. So sweet. So succulent. My sisters and I will enjoy the benefits for months to come.”

She turns then and waddles to the rocking chair. Mama’s rocking chair, the very one which remains at Clamor Street, only here it has plump velvet cushions attached to its spindly bars. The crone takes a seat, leans forward far enough to select a mug from her tray, then rocks back gently in perfect comfort even as hot liquid spills over her fat fingers. “I’ll be happy to bargain again with either of you,” she says, smiling from me to Danny. “Sit down, please. Tell me why you’ve come to see me. Have a drink?” she adds.

I shoot Danny a glance and catch him eyeing me as well. We both know exactly how dangerous it would be to eat anything this woman has to offer. Ilusine, by contrast, sits her bony self grandly in the wingback armchair across from the crone, selects a mug, and takes a loud sip. The crone rolls her eyes, the crystal flashing, before turning her gaze back to me. “Most people,” she says, “don’t come bargaining a second time, particularly not hard on the heels of their last bargain. You must be desperate indeed.”

She says it with such an air of greed, warning bells go off in my head. But I haven’t any choice. “I need to get to Vespre,” I say.

“Vespre has been cut off from the worlds.” The crone takes another sip before adding, “Mostly.”

That one word—such a simple word, yet it sends such a surge of hope racing through my soul. “You know a way to get there?”

“Well, of course I do. It’s all a matter of price.”

“Name it.”

“Within reason,” Ilusine adds with a growl, “or we’re walking.”

The crone laughs and kicks up her little feet, offering a glimpse of thin, scaly ankles and long toes ending in talons. She tips so far back in Mama’s chair, she nearly goes over. “It’s too late, little princess!” she cackles, wiping a tear from the corner of her crystal eye and flicking it into the fire. The flames flare green for an instant. “The mortal has already revealed her hand. She must reach Vespre, and she’ll pay any price to manage it.” She leans forward again, sets her mug down with athunkand a slosh before steepling her fingertips. “Hmmmm, but what should I ask for? How about your firstborn child?” Her gaze shifts to my abdomen. “You could hand it over here and now if you wanted. I won’t make you wait until it is born.”

I wrap a protective hand over my stomach. “No.” I say firmly. “Not that.”

The crone sneers and settles back in the rocker again. “You love that little dab of nothing more than the rest of your children then?”

A stab of guilt pricks my heart. For an instant my troll children’s faces flash across my mind’s eye. But I shake my head. “I would give anything for them, anything that is mine to give. This life . . . it doesn’t belong to me. It is merely mine to guard and protect for a short while.”

“Tut,” says the crone. “Too fussy for my taste, but fine! Fine. We’ll move on.” She taps her fingertips again. Her mouth crooks in a nasty smile. “What about your heart?”

“What?”

“I’ll get you through to Vespre where you can perform your mighty deeds of heroism. But in exchange, you leave your heart behind. Here, with me. There’s nothing more powerful than a beating heart full of love.”

I blink stupidly. “How can I do anything without a heart? I’ll die!”

The crone snorts. “I find most people can live heartless for a long, long while. Sometimes mighty deeds are easier to accomplish without such a burden. After all,” she adds, pointing a long finger at my chest, “your heart has led you astray time and again. That brother of yours . . .” She clucks, her forehead puckering over the crystal eyeball. “Just think: without a heart, how much easier will it be to deal with him and the horror he even now unleashes?”

My throat tightens. I want to demand what the crone knows, to beg her to tell me what Oscar is doing in Vespre. An image of the Hollow Man looming large and terrible in Aurelis seems to fill my vision. Is that nightmare even now rampaging through the streets of Vespre? Without its true name, how can Mixael and Andreas hope to bind it?

“Beware,” Ilusine warns softly. “This devil is devious. She’ll say anything to get what she wants. Remember, the crones are not fae. They can and do lie.”

“That is true, little princess,” the crone replies with a shrug. “But in this instance, I speak only the truth.” The crystal rolls around in her head before finally fixing its strange, multiplied gaze on me. “Give me your heart, and I’ll see you arrive in Vespre all in one piece.”

“Will you make certain I arrive at the same time as Castien?”

“Castien Lodírith?” The crone shakes her head. “He is beyond my range of vision. I cannot tell you where he is or in what time.”

My knees tremble. I want to sink to the floor, to utter the sob that even now struggles up my throat. She doesn’t know where he is. Does that mean he’s dead? Gone beyond the range of even the Blessed Beldames’ far-seeing vision? Sorrow wells inside me, ready to drown me in its depths. But I cannot let it have me. If I’m to have any chance of seeing him again, of seeing any of them, I must keep pushing ahead.

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