Water’s Edge (A Series of Sharp Edges #1)

24. Mattie

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

mattie

T he path we take to the witch is dizzying. We wind through the thick trees with no rhyme or reason, going in circles for all I know. Ripp grumbles about the witch as we walk, but I only catch parts of what he’s saying as I try to avoid snagging my feet on the brambles. He pauses his complaining when he notices I’m struggling. Took him fucking long enough. He snaps his fingers, and the winding vines and brush recede to form a path. “This whole time,” I huff out, annoyed. “Why didn’t you start with that?”

“Impressed?” he coos, waggling his eyebrows. My eyes narrow, and sharp words sit at the edge of my tongue, but I continue walking.

“Why do you keep calling her ‘the witch’?” I ask changing the subject. “Doesn’t she have a name?” Ripp groans like I’ve asked him the most obvious question in the world.

“Old hag won’t tell me her name.” He shrugs his shoulders then throws his head back to laugh. “She doesn’t trust me enough, and I can’t say I blame her. I may have lost my temper with her a time or two.”

“What does knowing her name have to do with your bad manners?” I raise an eyebrow at him, knowing he’s probably thrown a tantrum more than twice in her presence.

“I told you, little bug. Names are power.” He side-eyes me, probably waiting for my next question. I don’t oblige him. Instead, I forge ahead in silence—and maybe a little spite at the fact that he could have cleared our path much sooner.

My legs start to protest, and I’m about to ask for a break, but a clearing suddenly appears between two trees tangled together, forming an arch. Ripp steps through first and offers me his hand. I raise an eyebrow at him but place my hand in his. He pulls me roughly through. Pressure builds in my chest but then clears as quickly as it came.

The clouds have finally cleared, and the sun has risen high enough to break through the trees and allow me to have a clear view of a tiny cabin. It’s not so different from mine but looks like it hasn’t been maintained for a spell, maybe several spells. “She lives here?” I ask, looking up at him.

“I didn’t expect you to be one to judge,” he laughs, shaking his head. “But yes, this is it.”

“I’m not judging,” I grumble, sticking out my bottom lip. “It just looks abandoned is all.” I gesture broadly with my arm towards the cabin. A figure steps out on the porch, and I immediately drop my arm. My cheeks heat with embarrassment. Maybe I was judging, just a little.

“Looks can be deceiving, girl,” the woman laughs. “You out of all of ‘em should know that.” Her voice sounds too close for how far away she is. Goosebumps break out across my skin.

Ripp gives me a little push on the small of my back to get me moving again. “She’s not wrong,” he says, following behind me.

“That’s because I’m never wrong,” the woman snaps, clucking her tongue. If Ripp’s eyes could roll out of his head, they would have at that moment. I look back and forth between the two of them, like there’s an inside joke I’m missing.

We make it to the porch, and I choke on a gasp. The woman is shorter than I am, maybe five feet tall if I’m being generous. Silver hair hangs down over her face, but between the strings, I can tell her eyes are all white. Her thin, white dress hangs on her small frame. The fabric is dirty, like she has been sitting in front of a fire for too long, and the hem is tattered. Her translucent skin looks delicate, as if it could tear like paper.

She stares back at me, and I squirm under her gaze. I’m an ant under a magnifying glass. Saliva pools in my mouth, and sweat beads form on my forehead. “Let’s get you inside before my wards have you losin’ your stomach all over my porch,” she clucks.

A wave of cool air washes over me as we step inside the cabin. Ripp shakes his head, muttering something about humans, and goes to sit at a small, round table. There’s something carved into it I can’t make out. Drying plants and jars of liquid cover the top. The earthy smell of the cabin is sharp but comforting. Memories of my mother humming to herself in the kitchen fill my mind.

“Sit, child,” the woman says, gesturing to the chair next to Ripp. Her voice becomes stern. “You should have brought her sooner.”

Ripp sighs heavily and leans back into the chair. “I’ve somehow forgotten that I answer to you.” The words drip with sarcasm, and I have to stifle a laugh as her head turns back towards me. She waits for me to sit before coming to join us.

“She already reeks of dark magic,” she fusses, fluttering her hands in my direction. I lean my head down, trying to sniff myself without them noticing, but I can only smell the smokiness of Ripp still on my skin. “Have you not noticed it hanging in the air around her, or do you just choose to ignore it?”

“Why do you think we’re here, witch?” Ripp snarls. “For the pleasure of your company?”

“I’m right fucking here, you know?” My voice raises. Turning my attention back to them, I slap both hands on the table. “You could talk to me instead of about me.” Both of their heads turn towards me and stare like I’m a child throwing a tantrum.

“There’s anger in you, child,” the witch says, her voice softening. “You’ve let the roots grow deep and take hold of you. Your rage has become your curse.” My fingernails dig into the wood beneath them. Her assessment is correct, but it doesn’t make it easier to hear out loud. I try to swallow past the lump wedged in my throat.

“The curse,” I whisper. “Ripp said I’ll die.” I look down at the carvings on the table, trying to shift my focus before the tears come. An intense rumbling noise comes from Ripp’s direction, and waves of anger seem to roll off him.

“Death would be a gentler option, yes,” the witch confirms. Ripp lifts from his seat, his chair clattering loudly against the floor. I look rapidly between the two of them. The witch doesn’t seem the type to be easily intimated, but Ripp’s rage fills all the space in the room.

“Tell us how to complete the fucking ritual,” he shouts, but she only clucks her tongue at him.

“Please,” I whisper again. “Please help me.” The words feel foreign in my mouth, and I’m suddenly aware that I don’t think I’ve ever asked for help before. My chest tightens like all the oxygen is being sucked from the room.

Her wrinkled hand reaches out to the top of mine, and she squeezes gently. “Your fate is sealed child, you will either transform, or your body will give out,” she says, too gently for the words she’s speaking.

I look up at her, my eyes wide and my heart racing. “But what will I transform into? I don’t understand. If this is something that happens to humans, why don’t we know about it?” A laugh bursts from the witch, causing me to jump.

“Humans choose to be blind to what they don’t understand. We explain it away with things we can comprehend. Disease. Alcoholism. Heart attacks. Other ailments our minds can wrap around.” She looks toward me expectantly, like it should all suddenly make sense. Ripp groans but otherwise stays silent while he picks up his chair and sits again.

“I don’t understand.” I shake my head. “Nothing about death and disease seems magical. Shit just happens.” Her laugh rings out again, and I frown, my patience also growing thin.

“It’s true that human bodies aren’t meant to last the test of time, and not all afflictions have dark origins. But not understanding something doesn’t prevent it from happening.”

“But what is happening? What will I become if I don’t die first?” I ask, trying not to sound as agitated as I feel.

“Knowing is not always the answer. I can only guess,” she says, shrugging her shoulders. Ripp shifts in his seat, and I can feel the tension emanating from him once more.

“Okay, well, can you give me your guess, then?” I pull my hand away from hers but reach my other towards Ripp. He snatches it up, almost pulling me from my chair.

“I can’t wait to hear this,” Ripp says under his breath. I shoot him a look, silently begging him to shut the fuck up before the witch gets fed up with both of us.

“You’d become like him,” she answers. Through strands of hair, I see a grin spread across her face. Dread and uncertainty spread through me. I’d become like him. No longer human.

Ripp leaps out of his chair again, yanking my arm along with him. I let out a yelp, and he drops my hand. He storms over to the witch, towering over her. His breaths are heavy, and his eyes fill with a darkness that sends chills down my spine. “So you’re saying she dies anyway?” he roars.

“Control yourself,” the witch’s voice booms, coming out deep and echoing through the room. Every muscle in my body contracts, ready to run out of the cabin and leave them here to tear each other apart. Her voice shifts back to normal, but the tension remains. “Transformation is not death. I’d expect a being as old as you are to know the difference. But if you mean she’d leave her human existence, then yes.”

“I’m sorry, but that does sound a lot like dying,” I say as I deflate into the chair.

“Call it what you will,” she replies. “It makes no difference to the outcome.”

All her answers just lead in circles, and I’m too exhausted to wade through her vague bullshit. I fold over, placing my head on top of my arms on the table. I feel Ripp move behind me. “As insightful as this has been, I think we should leave before I do something Mattie would regret.” I snort into my arm. Such a gentleman.

“You’ve suddenly remembered something you’ve forgotten?” the witch asks, ignoring Ripp entirely. I nod my head enthusiastically, my eyes widen, hopeful for more information. “When you are closer to the darkness, it’s easier to see it clearly. Light acts as a filter, not letting your eyes adjust to the true nature of it.”

My face falls again at yet another riddle. My hands find the vial around my neck, and I stare into it, no longer able to find a trace of the lightning bugs that used to be inside.

“The charm around her neck,” the witch says, getting up and walking towards the stove. “It contains a piece of you, yes?” I raise my head, turning to stare up at Ripp. Wearing the necklace has become so integrated into my daily routine, I’d completely forgotten to ask him about it. Ripp’s eyes flicker from mine to the witch, and he nods. The witch purses her lips but seems to be satisfied with his affirmation. “It will be important.”

When she doesn’t elaborate further, Ripp takes my hand, and we turn to leave. I sigh, knowing I now have more questions than before we arrived. I open my mouth to ask why, but Ripp tugs my arm, and I quickly shut it.

“Oh, and Mattie,” she calls just as we head out the door, “you know his name now. Use it wisely.”

Thoughts swirl wildly inside my mind, interrupted by the rush of fresh air hitting my face. As we step outside, I notice the sun has already reached the other side of the clearing. “How long were we in there?” I ask, looking up at the sky.

“Too fucking long,” Ripp snorts. “Let’s get you home before dark, little bug.”