Witch Bewitched (COMPLETE)

Chapter 37

PART 2

Misa soon fell back into her usual routine at the purgehouse. Waking up at the cräck of dawn, washing up with freezing cold water, eating grungy breakfast, cleaning up, physical training, lunch, more cleaning, purgehouse academics, free time before dinner, dinner, cleaning, washing up, then going to bed. And repeat.

And all the while, she hadn't wanted to see the captain. Not when the sight of him stabbed needles of pain into her heart. It helped that not long after her return, the cadets were taken out on a retreat for some field training. She hoped the time away from him would mend her wounds.

She had grown closer to Raki, gleaning information from her whenever they had a moment of privacy. It had been a week since her return from Harthem, and Misa still couldn't shake off the dread and hopelessness the city had punctured into her. At the very least, she was safe from accidentally bewitching anyone.

"Raki," Misa said, scrubbing down a uniform trouser. The chance had come for Raki and Misa to talk when they were given laundry duty. "What exactly is the Society?"

Raki slapped a wooden stick on her bundle of wet clothes. "How can you not know the Society? It's where any and all women in need go for comfort, shelter, and protection. We exist to show that women can do more than keep the household clean and pop out children. We're more than that."

"What about men?"

Raki paused her beating and shook her arm to loosen the muscles. "We help men, too. Sometimes. After the witch killer, it's become harder for us to trust them. Ervan was so supportive of us, and to think he killed innocent women under the assumption that they were witches..." Raki shook her head. "I still can't believe it. Apparently he was using the Society to search for his victims, the sick bastard. Well, it doesn't matter anymore. The Society took care of him."

"What?" Misa's eyes widened. She only squeezed them shut when water splashed towards her. "What do you mean the Society took care of him?"

"He was found dead in his cell, wasn't he?" Raki sighed. "Look, I'm not saying I agree with what they did, but Ervan deserved it. It was probably merciful that he got such a clean death, unlike our sisters."

"But how? How did they get inside?"

"How do you think?" Raki gestured to her uniform. "This isn't the only way to infiltrate the purgehouse. They hire cooks and cleaning staff too, don't they? One of the members figured out where Ervan was kept, and she finished the job when she took food down to him."

Misa's head reeled. Raki had just admitted to conspiring to kill a man. Misa had never pegged the girl to be a killer, but the way Raki spoke with no emotion about killing Ervan as if it was the most mundane thing bothered her.

"I wasn't supposed to let it slip," Raki said. "But I trust you, Mikim. You're in the same situation as I am." She smiled, and Misa's doubt dissipated. Despite the terrible thing Raki had admitted to, she hadn't been the one who killed Ervan, and Raki would never hurt anyone. Right? Unless the Society told her to...

No. It wouldn't be any good to think like that. Raki hadn't been the one to kill him. And she was a friend. Just like Torren. Just like...

"I ran into him," Misa said, rinsing the trousers and shoving it onto a pile. "The witch killer. He tried to kill me, but the captain came just in time to stop him."

Raki stopped beating. Her large brown eyes peered at Misa with wonder. "You're the final victim? Or survivor. And the captain saved you?"

Misa nodded. "Well, technically, Min-Min did, but the captain was there to restrain Ervan before he could recover."

"Min-Min?"

"She's a cat. My best friend."

"That's so romantic."

Misa snorted. "What?"

"If it happened in a novel." Raki giggled. "Don't you know that's a scene out of any romance novel you read these days? The hero jumping in to save the heroine at the last second. I hate that the women are always getting saved, but I used to read every romance book I could get my hands on when I was younger."

"Me and the..." Misa flushed. "Yeah right. He's the last person I'd ever fall for. I'd be more likely to go for Torren, and he's like a brother!"

"Yeah, probably not." Raki shook her head. "He probably doesn't even know you're here. But, he's the reason you secretly joined the purgehouse, isn't he? To repay him for saving your life?"

Misa clenched her fists, rubbing the rough material against each other until her fingers burned. Repay him?

That's right.

He had saved her life. How did Misa forget that? And to think she'd been so rude to him...Guilt ate away at her. She thought back to the events of Harthem, how Royle had told her that she wasn't worthless and how he had cared about her wellbeing when she had closed herself off instead of getting mad at her. He had risked his own life to make sure Rithian didn't hit her again. At least, that had been his intention until Nisha showed up.

And despite what Royle had said—that the events in Harthem would stay there—Misa knew she couldn't leave them behind when she was so indebted to him. The least she could do was make it up to him so they could continue the mission on friendlier terms. No sense in carrying out an already difficult task with so much friction between them.

"It must have been terrifying, though." Raki halted her work to gaze up at the river. "I can't imagine facing death."

"I don't like to think about it."

"I understand. I'm sorry if I was being insensitive."

Misa shook her head. "Don't be."

There was a moment of silence between them as they finished up the laundry and plopped them into a basket. It took both of them to carry it.

"Hey, Raki." Misa watched a leaf get crunched under her boot. "If we had a fight, and I told you that our friendship was over, what would you do? Would you try to fix it?"

"I guess that depends." Raki hummed in thought. "If our friendship broke off because I did something wrong, I'd do everything I could to apologise. Even if we don't restore our relationship, I think I'd at least owe you that. If you did something wrong, I would confront you, and depending on how willing you are to repair our friendship, I'd try to fix it or leave it. Why do you ask? Did I do something wrong?"

"No, it's nothing." Misa sighed. Raki was right. The only way she could repay Royle was if she first spoke to him. "I was just thinking."

When we get back, Misa promised. When we get back, I have to talk to him. No matter what.

The sun blazed down on them. Loud chatter began to filter from beyond the trees. An officer's booming voice called for the cadets' attention.

No matter what.

* * * *

"Shoulder to shoulder!" yelled Lieutenant Calden Hunter. The cadets lined up at his command, backs rigid and eyes forward.

Lieutenant Hunter stood in front of them, hands behind his back. His beady eyes studied each and every one of the cadets standing before him, and he nodded in satisfaction.

"Today," he boomed, "You will learn the basics of handling firearms."

Excitement simmered amongst the cadets, but a knot began to tie in Misa's stomach. She had no desire to even touch a gun unless she had to polish them.

"This is a pistol." The lieutenant revealed his hand, which wrapped around a slim, black metal gun. The weapon brought Misa back to the Harthem, when Royle had pulled the trigger against Nisha. The shot had clapped like thunder, and Misa shuddered when she recalled how the captain could have been killed.

"A revolver," Hunter continued. He rotated a cylinder right above his knuckle to demonstrate. "This is where the bullets go. For this training, each of you will take turns firing the weapon under my supervision. I will personally demonstrate to you how you are to handle the gun. First in line. Get over here. The rest of you pay close attention."

The first cadet in line—a well-muscled boy who could barely contain his excitement—stepped up. He waited eagerly for the lieutenant to hand him the gun, and Misa was sure he would have hopped from one foot to the other if training hadn't ingrained stillness into him. Corven was his name, and he was one of the brighter recruits to come to the purgehouse.

"One shot," Hunter said, slipping a bullet into the cylinder. He pushed it in, and a click resonated from it. He placed a finger on the muzzle of the gun and began to list off the gun's anatomy. "Muzzle. Barrel. Cylinder. Guard. Trigger. Grip. Hammer. Spread your hand." When Corven complied, Hunter placed the gun on the cadet's palm. "Wrap your fingers around it. Keep your forefinger on the guard, and only—only—ever place it on the trigger if you're absolutely certain that you're going to shoot."

Corven did as he was told. His grip tightened against the weight, and he placed his index finger on the guard that encircled the trigger. The lieutenant nodded in approval.

"Your target is that pile of hay. Step on the line, and it'll be ten meters from where you stand. Feet apart. Left hand supports your right. Straighten your elbow. Aim down the sight. Cöck the hammer. Shoot. And nothing else, do you understand?"

With a gulp, Corven nodded. He stepped up to a line that had been marked by a stick next to the lieutenant. He brought his arms up and aimed. His thumb found the hammer and pulled it down, and his finger slipped in front of the trigger. He held his breath and pulled the trigger. A pop stabbed Misa's ears. The gun kicked back, sending the bullet flying higher than the target, and whizzing past until it embedded into a tree.

"You let the recoil throw you off balance. Finger off the trigger. Hand me the gun." Corven breathed out. With a slight frown of disappointment, he returned the gun to the lieutenant's outstretched hand.

"Next!"

One by one, the cadets took turns firing the pistol. When Misa's turn came, she trudged forward. She took the revolver from the lieutenant, feeling the weight of it in her wrist. Its sleek barrel winked at her as if to mock her. Images of Royle shooting at Nisha flashed in her mind, and it was almost enough for her to drop it.

Get it over with. Misa let out a breath. She stood on the line, keeping a wide stance and brought up the gun. Her hands shook, but she forced them to lock in front of her. The wooden grip turned warm beneath her touch, absorbing the sweat that began secreting from her palms. Heart pumping, Misa pulled down the hammer. She locked onto the pile of hay, squeezed her eyes shut, and pulled the trigger.

The bang sent wild ringing in her ears. Misa opened her eyes, still disoriented by the trembling high-pitched wail that throbbed against her temples. The hay was untouched. She had no idea where her bullet had gone.

"Why did you close your eyes?" Lieutenant Hunter asked as Misa handed him the gun.

Misa averted her gaze from him, half expecting him to hit her for it. "I'm not sure, sir. I guess...I guess I was waiting for it to go off."

"You can't shoot a gun without knowing where you're shooting. Next time, I want you to keep your eyes on the target, whether you hit it or not. Understand?"

"Yes, sir." Misa swallowed a lump and walked back to her place in line. For some strange reason, training to handle a gun reminded Misa painfully of her magic training with Rithian.

And for the second time, she promised she would never utilise the knowledge she'd gained from the experience. Misa wondered how many more useless things she'd have to learn and master, and her shoulders slumped. The dark future that had plagued her since her return from Harthem loomed before her, and the field training added one more weight to the shackles that bound Misa's ankles.