Page 17 of Extraordinary Quests for Amateur Witches

Before Kieran knew it, he had fallen into an in-depth recollection of the last week of his life, including every detail he could think of from the almost-breakup to the mugging and his realization that he’d cast the curse.

The entire time, Sebastian just watched him, barely seeming to react.

His dark eyes seemed to almost stare through him, reflecting the silvery moonlight.

Kieran found himself trying not to make eye contact—half because of his embarrassment over the situation and half because Sebastian’s stare was so unflinching.

Kieran concluded, “So…yeah. If you want to run for the hills now, I’d understand.”

Finally, after being entirely silent through the whole explanation, Sebastian said, “I appreciate your telling me. Most people I know wouldn’t have the courage to own up to a mistake like that.”

Kieran shrugged. “It’s the least I can do, after everything.”

Sebastian tilted his chin to get a better look at Kieran’s expression, and Kieran took that moment to once again get a good look at him: skin moon-pale and smooth, a sharp contrast from his black hair and eyes—the concept of chiaroscuro made flesh. He was, genuinely, breathtaking.

“Could I speak plainly for a moment?”

Kieran’s heart thumped. “Sure.”

“I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my time,” Sebastian admitted. His gaze fell. “Far be it from me to judge you for yours. But—and I don’t say this to try to discount your guilt, but…cursing Ash to not be able to perceive you isn’t that bad.”

Kieran choked. “I— What? Not that bad? ”

“As far as curses go, yes.” Sebastian shrugged. “It’s not like he’s rotting from the inside out or turning everyone he touches to dust. Obviously, any curse is less than ideal, but it’s not like you intentionally hurt him. I’m just saying…perhaps you deserve a bit more grace.”

“Now, that’s a new one,” Kieran muttered. “You do realize cursewriting is illegal, right? I committed a crime.”

“Ah, of course. And such a dangerous one, at that. How will I ever survive an encounter with this dangerous witch and his wicked rhyme schemes?”

Kieran rolled his eyes, knocking his elbow against Sebastian’s. “Since when do you tell jokes?”

“I’m just saying, it could be much worse.” The faint smile that had warmed Sebastian’s face faded, and for a moment, a shadow passed over his eyes. “Trust me.”

Kieran studied him. Was this a reasonable moment to ask about his curse? It was taboo, sure, but maybe Sebastian wanted to talk about it—

Before Kieran could open his mouth, Sebastian straightened from where he’d been leaning on the banister. He tucked a loose piece of inky black hair behind his ear. “But I should get to bed. I take it we’re speaking to the village witch tomorrow?”

“That’s the plan.” Kieran sighed. “Hopefully she doesn’t try to kill us on the spot.”

“Well, I’ll do my best to make sure that doesn’t happen.” The corner of Sebastian’s lips lifted in a quarter smile. “See you tomorrow, Kieran.”

In that moment, Kieran caught sight of a small reddish stain beside Sebastian’s mouth.

Without a second thought, Kieran reached out, brushing his thumb over the smudge to wipe it away. Sebastian’s eyebrows shot up as Kieran pulled back and explained, “Sorry, it’s just—you had a little wine stain by your lip.”

Sebastian, for a moment, froze as if he’d been hit. Then his shoulders relaxed, and he rubbed his sleeve across his mouth.

“Thank you,” he said, voice muffled by his sleeve. “I’ll, ah, wash up. Good night, Kieran.”

Kieran barely had a chance to wish him good night before Sebastian rushed back to his cabin.

The village witch’s shack sat on the other side of the Lake of Whispers, and it took Kieran and his friends nearly forty minutes just to skirt the edge of it.

The air was cold enough that they could see their breath, and Kieran wrapped his arms around himself to keep in the warmth.

Frost turned the pine trees’ needles a silvery green that sparkled in the light from the rising sun.

Kieran probably would have appreciated the beauty of the wintry scene if he weren’t running on less than three hours of sleep. He’d spent the night tossing and turning, considering everything that could go wrong. He felt unprepared, exposed, and extremely nauseated.

But I can’t fail him, Kieran reminded himself, thinking of Ash’s smiling face. I can’t.

As the sunrise turned the sky pink and orange, they came upon the witch’s home.

It was nestled among a copse of towering pine trees—easy to miss if you weren’t looking for it.

Smoke rose from the chimney, so it was clear someone was inside, even though the windows were dark.

Frost coated the stone pathway up to the front door, and Kieran took care not to slip.

As they came to the door, Kieran spotted a wooden sign nailed to it. It read: Magical services discontinued until further notice. Sorry. Come back later.

Kieran stood with arms akimbo. “At least she’s polite enough to put out a sign. People like that don’t usually begin interactions by trying to kill you.”

“The sign is, however, explicitly telling us to leave,” Briar pointed out.

Kieran waved his hand dismissively at his twin. “Semantics. Anyway, let’s get this over with.”

Before his nerves could get the better of him, Kieran reached up and rapped on the wooden door. He immediately took a step back—part of him was afraid that simply touching the door might trigger some sort of poison needle or fireball to shoot out at him.

Nothing happened.

She’s clearly inside, Kieran thought, crossing his arms. She can’t ignore us forever.

Once again, he knocked. “Hello? Is anyone home?”

“We’re closed!” a voice called back. It was feminine but hoarse, as if she hadn’t spoken to another person in days. “No magic until further notice!”

Kieran called, “We’re not here for spells! We just want to talk!”

“Did you hear me? I’m not taking clients! Go home!”

Kieran leaned back on his heels, frowning.

There went his theory about the village witch being polite.

He glanced over his shoulder at Briar and Delilah, hoping one of them would provide some advice, but they both looked just as perplexed as he was.

He took a breath before turning back. Should we bust down the door?

She has no choice but to talk to us if we break and enter—

Kieran felt a hand on his shoulder and found that Sebastian had come to his side. He cleared his throat and called, “We’re here about the lake! We might be able to fix it, but we need your help. We think it has something to do with a magical artifact. Please—there are lives at stake.”

This time, the witch didn’t immediately respond. Kieran shot Sebastian a sideways look, cocking an eyebrow. In response, Sebastian whispered, as if reading his mind, “Something tells me she’s not going to take kindly to our beating down the door, hmm?”

Kieran opened his mouth to argue but closed it as he realized Sebastian was right. You’re telling me he has nice hair and common sense? The nerve.

Just then, the door let out a small click and opened the tiniest sliver. A single green eye appeared in the gap, a dark thumbprint beneath it from lack of sleep.

“Y-you know about the artifact?”

Kieran’s eyebrows shot up. “You mean the Hilt? Yes. We were sent here to get it.”

The witch inhaled sharply. “So…you know about the lake too?”

“It’s luring townsfolk in, and no one knows why,” Sebastian said plainly. “And they seem to think you’re involved.”

Kieran quickly cut in, “B-but we don’t believe that, obviously.”

“You should,” the witch said, voice cracking. “It’s my fault.”

Kieran’s mind whirred as he tried to think of a nice way to say it probably wasn’t her fault, but he never got the chance.

The next moment, seemingly out of nowhere, the witch behind the door sniffled and then burst into tears.

Sebastian’s brow furrowed while Delilah and Briar exchanged a wide-eyed look.

Ever so gently, Kieran reached out and pushed the door the rest of the way open.

It revealed a short, stout woman with auburn hair and freckles who appeared to be in her early twenties.

She wore a stained dress, and as soon as the door was open, the smell of body odor began to seep out.

Clearly, she hadn’t showered in some time.

She snorted up phlegm, rubbing tears from her eyes. “A-are you serious? About helping me?”

Kieran had to actively stop his lip from curling at the smell. The witch was short, and Kieran could see over her head into the shack. Dirty dishes were piled on different surfaces, along with unwashed clothes and moldy, dying potted plants.

Doing his best to keep his voice even as he breathed through his mouth, Kieran said, “We can certainly try.”

“Perhaps we could speak inside?” Sebastian offered, seemingly unfazed by the scene before them.

The witch sniffled, then nodded and stepped aside.

“Come in. I’ll tell you everything.”

The witch’s name was Hattie Pren, and for the first time in a while, Kieran was starting to think he’d finally found someone who was having an even worse few months than he was.

After some quick introductions, Hattie led Kieran, Sebastian, Briar, and Delilah to a seating area in front of a woodburning stove on the left side of the shack.

Kieran was grateful for how quickly he went nose-blind—it was quite clear that Hattie hadn’t been taking care of herself or her home for some time now.

The four stood and watched as Hattie moved to grab the piles of clothes on her couch, hastily tossing them onto her nearby bed.

Hesitantly, everyone took a seat while Hattie tucked herself into a rickety old rocking chair next to the stove.

“So,” Kieran said, breaking the silence after a beat. Great leadership. Keep it up. “You’ve been closed for business for a while, eh?”

Hattie looked down at her hands. “It’s been six months since I got the town into this mess.”