Page 25 of To Hunt a Demon King

I shivered uncomfortably, wishing a painful death on all the rusalka in the Bloodwood as Hunt strode toward the little cottage, ducking his head under the door frame. Clearly this cottage was not made with a man of his height in mind, and he had to stoop as he entered.

“Put her down then,” said the ancient voice, “and let me take a look.”

Hunt finally released me, helping me into a small chair next to a well worn table. The room was tiny, the only other furniture was a moth-eaten mattress that lay by the empty fireplace, and a large pot for cooking. Hunt stepped back, leaning uncomfortably by the door. Akela flopped on the ground by the hearth next to me, growling slightly as if he didn’t trust the house or the voice.

“Well then,” said the ancient voice, which coalesced into the form of a very short, very old woman. She appeared behind Hunt, bustling through the room and poking at jars and boxes as she moved. “Go make yourself useful and fetch some firewood.” She said this while studying me, but Hunt raised a brow, gave Akela a nod, and left through the tiny door.

“Hello,” I said, discomfort rising at the idea of invading this woman’s home. “I am sorry to inconvenience you.”

“Nonsense, nonsense,” said the ancient woman, moving to stand beside me. I tried not to stare at the withered hands that busied themselves with the shawl around her shoulders, the veins protruding in purple steaks against milky skin. Her face was deeply lined and spotted with age. Witches aged slowly, so this woman must be many centuries old. “A friend of the Huntsman’s is a friend of mine. Let me take a look at you.”

The old woman turned milky white eyes on me as she reached her hands out to my face. Akela growled again.

“Oh hush, you beast,” she snapped, hands roaming over my features. She must be totally blind, I realized, but she seemed to study me in a way that didn’t require normal sight.

“I think a magical cure is not strictly necessary,” she said, more to herself than me. “But better safe than sorry, I suppose.” The woman fished in her apron pocket and pulled out a piece of chalk.

“You’re a hedge witch,” I said, surprised that a witch would find herself all alone out here. Hedge witches lived apart from any Coven, and I hadn’t known anyone who had ever chosen to leave. The closest was probably Mama, but even she never took the step of leaving the security of the Coven. The woman barked a laugh, drawing a pentagram on the table in front of me and pulling out flint and candles from her pocket.

“Some would say so,” she agreed, waving her hands nonchalantly over her altar. Fire sprang to life in the hearth, crackling merrily as if it had been burning there all morning. I was used to magic, but the suddenness of this caught me off guard.

“How did you do that?” I asked, feeling myself melt a little as the warmth of the fire seeped into my bones. “You didn’t say the incantation.”

The old woman scoffed. “When you’re as old as I am, you don’t need to verbalize them anymore,” she said, skirting around Akela, who growled again.

“Cursed animal,” she grumbled. “He’s never liked me.”

“How do you know Hunt?” I asked, shooting a warning look at Akela for him to behave. He narrowed his eyes, but stopped growling. I watched curiously as the old woman began pulling bundles of herbs from her pocket. It must be enchanted, because the number of items she kept in there seemed unreal. A stick of cinnamon, a clove of garlic, a tiny bottle from which she took a pinch of what I was sure was cayenne pepper, a ginger root, and a little paper packet from which she drew some turmeric were all positioned at the point of the pentagram.

“We have crossed paths many times,” she said. “Give me your hand.”

I frowned, lifting my hand to the woman. She hissed at the coldness of my skin and mumbled something unintelligible as she placed my hand palm down in the center of the pentagram. Warmth blossomed beneath my palm, traveling from my fingers up my arm to my shoulder, then throughout my whole body. I sighed as the feeling suffused me, chasing away the icy cold of the river.

Hunt returned with firewood at that moment, banging the door open with a rough kick.

“Be careful,” screeched the old woman. “The house is fragile!”

“Apologies,” he said, looking the opposite of apologetic. “You can add it to my tab, if you must.”

“You can be assured that I will,” she said imperiously, releasing my hand from the center of the pentagram. “Take a seat.”

The old woman waved me from the chair, and I stood awkwardly, shuffling around behind Akela to get out of the way while Hunt took my place. He was altogether too large to fit comfortably inside this house, and he looked almost comical sitting in the tiny chair.

“Is this really the best you can do?” he asked, gesturing around the room to the woman. “You have company.” The old woman rolled her eyes and snapped her fingers. I gasped and clutched the wall as the room suddenly stretched and expanded, growing doors and a few extra chairs, as well as a cozy kitchen.

“Better?” the old woman asked, taking a sharp, silver blade and a wooden bowl from her ever expanding pocket.

“How did you…” I trailed off, looking in wonder around at the newly expanded space.

“It’s a glamour,” Hunt said, removing a vambrace and rolling his sleeve up to expose the inside of his forearm. “The Hag here is fond of looking more destitute than she is.”

“A trait we have in common, I think,” said the witch, giving Hunt what a withering look from her sightless eyes. He glared at her as if she could see just fine, and I frowned. She moved the bowl beneath his arm, sitting across from him.

“What are you—” I gasped as the witch sliced Hunt’s arm open, letting his blood dribble into the bowl.

“My services are not free,” the witch said, looking at me with a gleam in her milky eye. “I believe that is another trait the Huntsman and I share in common.” Even though I knew she couldn’t see, it felt like she was looking right at the lump where my necklace lay beneath my blouse.

“You practice blood magic,” I said, tone more accusing than was probably proper for a guest. The old woman laughed.

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