Page 92 of A Resistance of Witches

“Nonsense. She knows things. I’d like to know what they are, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, but—”

“Stay here,” Evelyn said brightly.

Lydia placed a hand on her arm. “Mother, don’t—”

“Stay.”There was something about the way she said the word that left no room for argument. On the contrary, Lydia found that even as she tried to get up and follow Evelyn, she was unable to do so. She felt a growing alarm rise in her as she realized that she had been pinned to her chair, immobile as a butterfly under glass.

She watched in horror from the window as Evelyn appeared on the street below, walking straight toward the woman in the blue coat. Evelyn halted several yards from the bus stop and said something Lydia couldn’t hear. The woman looked up. A moment later, Evelyn was walking back toward the flat with the woman behind her.

Evelyn came back through the door not a minute later, followed by avery red-faced girl. She was younger than Lydia had originally thought, no older than sixteen, with spots on her chin she’d done her best to hide with powder, and a crimson flush mottling her milky complexion. Evelyn turned to the girl.

“Sit.” She spoke in a voice devoid of all friendliness. The girl did as she was told. Evelyn turned to Lydia. “My apologies, love. You’re free to do as you please.” Lydia felt some invisible thing lift from her shoulders, a weight she hadn’t known was there. The girl in blue scowled, the veins in her neck bulging with effort, but she did not move from her chair.

“Mother?” Lydia looked from Evelyn to the girl, bewildered.

“Yes, love?” Evelyn looked extremely pleased with herself.

“Should I get anything for our guest? Arope, perhaps?”

Evelyn smiled. “I don’t see why that should be necessary.”

The realization struck her like a blow.

“Mother, could I have a word?”

“Certainly.” Evelyn turned to the girl.“Don’t move.”

Lydia stood, slowly and with great effort, and walked to the sitting room with Evelyn behind her.

“You’re aForce?” she asked in a hoarse whisper. Even speaking the words felt ludicrous. Forces were rare and dangerous. Evelyn was…well, Evelyn.

“I told you, dear, Polk women are gifted in many forms of magic, both high and low.”

Lydia gaped at her mother. “You’ve never mentioned it. Why?”

Evelyn shrugged. “It never seemed important. I always had a talent for it, but it’s herbs and cards that have my heart.”

“I don’t…do you have any idea how rare…how special? How have I never seen you do this before now?”

Evelyn seemed confused by the question. “It’s a wretched thing to do to a person. Who would I have forced before now, hmm? The butcher,to give me free lamb chops? Why, I never even forcedyoubefore today, and you were a hellion at two and three, let me tell you.”

Lydia suddenly remembered every time she’d ever sensed that Evelyn was holding something back.Minding her mouth. What must it have been like to hold all that power and never wield it? Lydia imagined it must have felt like trying to hold lightning in a jelly jar.

She craned her neck to see the girl sitting obediently in her wooden chair. “Can she cast spells?”

“Well, I can’t force her tongue, so I suppose she can say whatever she likes. But she’s already been warned there would be consequences.”

Lydia decided not to ask what Evelyn meant byconsequences.

“Come on, love,” Evelyn said merrily. “We’re being rude to our guest.”

They returned to the kitchen, with Evelyn in the lead and Lydia trailing behind.

“What’s your name?” Evelyn asked.

The girl spit on the floor. “Go to hell.” Her voice carried the barest hint of an accent.

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