Bewitched

Chapter 7 - Elvira

I was on fire.

At least, that's what it felt like.

My skin itched but screamed when I touched it.

I used a corner of the bedsheet to wipe the sweat off my face. Asha couldn't see. Luckily, she was still asleep next to me. But sunlight crept into the room, meaning she'd wake up soon.

I pushed myself up and slipped from our shared bed. The sheets were damp where I'd laid.  My legs shook as I forced them to take over my weight. I leaned against the wall and put one foot in front of the other.

It shouldn't have gotten infected like this. The wound on my arm should have responded to the treatment I'd put on it. I wasn't a witch, but I knew how to make a simple cream.

I knew how to find my way to the kitchen in the dark, but now I was unable to put my feet where I wanted them. I took another step. My legs gave out. I crashed on the floor, rolling to my side. My head pounded and the room spun around me. 

Arms closed around me. I wanted to tell Asha I was fine, but the scent of the hair brushing over my face was not hers. It reminded me of a forest after a rainstorm. I breathed in deeper.

"Let's get you back to bed." 

What a lovely voice. Must come with being a witch. Her hot breath was almost cooling against my burning skin. I leaned closer to get more of it.

She pulled me up, but I couldn't stand on my own. I leaned against her and her arms wrapped around me tightly. I followed her, shivering in her grasp. "I must smell so bad," I groaned.

A chuckle vibrated through my back. "If there's one thing living in a coven teaches you, it's to get used to all smells."

She lowered me onto the bed. I grabbed her arm before she could move away.

"It's okay." She touched my arm and pain shot through it. "Asha, can you get some hot water and rags?" She wiped some hair out of my face. "Let's hope you're obsessed enough with magic to have these ingredients too..."

I chuckled without even knowing why. Two brown eyes looked down on me and I thought I'd drown in them.

I tried to pull my arm away when she pressed a wet rag against it.

"I'm sorry," she said, and she did sound very sorry. "I have to clean it."

"You're not going to use magic?"

"Not for squeezing pus out of a wound, no."

"I never knew you were so... normal."

"Is that a compliment?" She smiled a little. She had such a pretty smile.

"Have you ever killed anyone?"

She paused her assaultive cleaning and stayed silent for a moment. I waited while she thought. I couldn't remember whether it was supposed to be a simple question or not.

"Not in the way you're thinking of," she finally said. "Some of my actions may have had... consequences... but I've never put a knife through anyone's chest."

I swallowed, my throat even dryer than my lips. "Why were they burned?"

"Who?"

"My parents. Why did the witches burn them?"

My father had woken me up in the middle of the night. "It's time," he had said, and I knew. We had gone over it so many times. Take Asha and run. If the witches come for her, take her and run. I had been foolish enough to think it was a matter of 'if' instead of 'when'.

The cellar led to a hatch outside. We lowered ourselves into it. Mother and father were both crying. Had I known that was the last time I'd see them, I would have...

The cold of the stone against my one hand, Asha's arm in my other, as I felt my way through the tunnel. The pounding of my heart, Asha's sobs as she tried to keep up with me. The coarse wood of the hatch against my palm. Cold air pouring inside. Cold for the season, I remember thinking. I listened. Screams from inside the house that kept me frozen in place. Asha tugged my arm. I threw the hatch open and crawled out. I helped Asha up and we stood there, looking at our home. Smoke rose from our home. I took a step back, and another one, the grass tickling underneath my feet. The smell penetrated my nose. I turned around and ran, pulling Asha along. I didn't look back, not knowing what was behind me, not wanting to find out. I disappeared with Asha into the fields, running for our lives. And we never stopped running.

And we never stopped running since that day.

"You're burning up."

My gaze shot to Malise as she placed a damp cloth against my forehead. "Why did they have to die?" I asked.

"That's just how it works."

"How what works?"

"Mother Zaleria's coven. When witches get taken in, they have to sever all ties with the humans. And if necessary, the humans have to be severed, too."

"But Asha didn't want to come with them. Why couldn't they leave us alone?"

"They only wanted to keep your sister safe. To keep her from ending up in a witch trial."

The answer didn't satisfy, nor did it ease the burning in my chest. But had I expected it to? "Did your parents die too?"

She rinsed the cloth in a bowl. "I think they did. They don't often leave them alive."

"How old were you?"

"About six years old."

She'd gone through the same thing as I had. We were... Were we the same, in that regard?

She placed the cloth on my face again.

"You must really hate the coven, then," I said. "And that Mother Zaleria."

"Yes," was all she said. It sounded like she had to force the words out.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." 

I studied her. Her, and the way her presence was like a balm. One that made my head spin. "I heard witches cast spells on people," I said through cracked lips. "To make them fall in love with them."

"There's no such thing as a love spell. Not a real, properly working one, that is. It's a myth made up by humans to avoid responsibility for their actions."

"Then why are you so hot?" I rested my hand on my throbbing head. "Oh, wait, I'm hot..."

"Yes, you are. And I need you to stop talking and rest."

I nodded and closed my eyes. I drifted off, the scent of forest banishing the smell of smoke in my head.