Witch Bewitched (COMPLETE)

Chapter 24

Misa sat on her bed, mulling over the riddle. She had the small strip of paper between her fingers, staring at it, hoping the words that formed would give her an answer instead of a cryptic message. She turned it upside down, but the same words had merely flipped themselves to be upright once again. The back of the strip had nothing.

"Argh!" Misa threw the strip to the ground. She had read it so many times the words were beginning to lose meaning.

A soft knock at her door interrupted the cogs in her brain, and Misa meandered to it, savouring the few moments of not wanting to cräck her head open. She checked her nightcap, making sure her hair was hidden beneath it, then unlocked the door.

Captain Bentham stood before her. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I see you've taken my advice."

Misa shrugged, not wanting to deal with his lecture. "I'd rather not have anyone stumble inside while I change."

She averted her gaze. The sight of the captain brought her back to the riddle—the cursed riddle that plagued her mind all day. Even sketching didn't alleviate the weight of it from her shoulders.

"May I come in?"

Misa jolted back into reality. "Oh, of course. Sorry."

She mentally kicked herself. Why was she apologising? Taking a step back, she didn't bother holding the door open for the captain. Instead, she made her way back to her bed, leaving it to him to shut the door. He locked it behind him.

Sinking onto the bed, Misa let out a long sigh. She stooped over to grab the piece of paper. "I can't sleep. All I've been thinking about is this stupid riddle."

The captain pulled a chair from the desk sitting beside the bed and took a seat. "That's why I've come here." He plopped his elbow on the desk, resting his cheek on his knuckles. "I think discussing it may help us think of something we haven't thought of so far."

"Maybe..." Misa rubbed her eyes. "Let's see. 'What marks every hour—' ah, we know that's a bell. So, 'see this one cry, up its teardrops rise, find the door in the sky.' It's upside down. Does that mean that its tears fall downwards then?"

"Perhaps..." Captain Bentham stared at the open sketchbook sprawled on the desk. "But that's only one part of the riddle. A bell upside down is still a bell."

Misa's shoulders drooped. "It's something I've pondered over. I don't understand. Bernt said the bell weeps real tears. I'm not sure if he means that the bell is somehow alive."

"Some fresh air may help. Shall we take a walk?"

Misa doubted it, but a walk did sound wonderful especially during the night when there wouldn't be so many people milling about. There was just something entrancing about nightly walks. The emptiness, the darkness, the ethereal silver glow from the moon, where impossible dreams did not seem so out of reach.

"That would be quite nice," Misa said. "Let me just grab my cloak."

She found her cloak hanging on a hook. Swinging it over her shoulders, she clasped the button and walked over to her desk. The captain had already gone to the door. She lifted her sketchbook and stuck the riddle inside. It wasn't likely that she'd have time to draw, but she decided to grab her stick of charcoal with it, anyway.

The captain didn't say anything about it. He unlocked the door and led the way through the house, following the carpeted path to the grand entrance, and out into the cold, beautiful garden. He snagged a lamp hanging on the walls fencing the property. The guard watching the gates said nothing when they left.

When the soft glow from the commander's manor were pinpricks in the distance, the captain spoke, "You understand why it's crucial to infiltrate the witches' society?"

Misa nodded. "Yes, I suppose I do. It's the only way to find out what Nisha is up to."

"Nisha is a wretched being. I wouldn't say she's even human, not with the atrocities she's committed over the century."

A heavy pang of hurt thumped Misa's chest. Because she was a witch—the same wretched being that lost its humanity.

Nisha had killed millions, Misa reminded herself. The witch was a monster. The moment she took the life of an innocent child, a family, a whole village, she had lost the thing that made her human. Misa was nothing like her.

"I don't understand how you think I'll be able to defeat her," Misa said, quietly, gravely. "She must have so much power."

"You don't have to defeat her." The captain had gone rigid, tense with...something. Anger? Fear? Misa couldn't tell. "Your job is to get me close enough to her. Close enough for me to send the wretch to whatever damned shithole she crawled out of."

Misa stopped in her tracks. It took a few more steps before the captain noticed she wasn't with him. Suspicion took hold. She couldn't help but think he had an ulterior motive. "Why exactly do you want to catch Nisha?"

The calm, emotionless captain reappeared. He lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. "She's a danger to humanity. It's my job to make sure she can never commit such crimes again. Despite rejecting my plans on working with a witch, the royal council agrees that Nisha must be terminated as soon as possible."

Misa watched him, studied him closely for any indication that he was lying. She had seen something slip past that mask of collected calm. But, as the captain tilted his head in question, as his hands slipped into his pockets, Misa wondered if she'd just been imagining things.

"Is something the matter?" he asked. "Do you want to cut the walk short?"

Misa shook her head. "No, it's nothing." She joined him once again, occasionally shooting him glances to look for the silent rage and raw hatred she'd witnessed moments before. She must have imagined it.

"Have you done any more sketching?" The question snapped her out of her thoughts.

She shook her head. "No, not in a few days."

They turned the corner. The fountain sat in silence, and the bench beckoned them to sit. Misa relaxed on the cool stone, trying to ignore the warmth from the captain when he sat next to her.

"Do you want to?"

Misa stared at her sketchbook, pondering the question. For once, she didn't feel like creating art. "It can wait."

Silence blanketed over them. The bell tower chimed, letting them know it was midnight, filling the stillness of the night with clings and clangs. The bell crying but shedding no tears.

When the quietness settled once again, Misa basked in the nightly ambience. She gazed at the half-moon glinting off the fountain water and listened to the gentle drizzles plopping in an endless stream.

"It's so peaceful," Misa remarked, leaning back against the cold bench. "I've always loved the night."

"Peaceful?" said the captain with a thoughtful expression. He remained upright, feet planted flat on the ground as if he was ready to jump into action at any given moment. "Yes, I suppose it is."

Misa nudged him. "Which means you can relax."

"I am relaxed."

"Whatever you say." If he wanted to be tense for the rest of his life, she wasn't going to stop him.

She watched the fountain, her thoughts filled with the riddle. Something nagged at the back of her mind, though she wasn't sure what.

Misa opened her sketchbook, gently running her fingertips along the smudged charcoal. The colour had settled, but her fingers came away with a tinge of gray. She held up her sketch to compare it with the real thing. Her lips pursed. Why was that line crooked? And the shading was sloppy near the base. The curve of the chalice was slightly distorted too.

"It's getting late," the captain said.

Misa scowled. "We just got here."

"It was meant to be a brief walk anyway. It won't do us any good to stay up late, especially with another meet scheduled tomorrow."

"We can stay out for just a few more minutes." Misa folded back the piece of cloth that covered her charcoal. She allowed only the tip of the coal to stick out as she fixed the blatant mistakes on her art. Just rub that away and add in a straighter line. Yes. Now to darken the shadow. Smudge it gently to blend. There. Misa brushed back a lock of hair that had escaped her cap. That was much, much better.

"I thought you were finished with that," the captain said as she clothed the charcoal once more.

"The mistakes were bothering me."

"There were mistakes?"

Misa frowned. Was that meant to be a compliment? He didn't look like he was joking, though there was what could be a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. But then again, she thought, when had she ever seen him relax? Even now, in the peaceful night, he couldn't abandon his rigid posture.

"You have..." The captain's voice broke through her thoughts. He tapped at his cheek.

At first, Misa stared at him blankly, then she understood. She brought up her hand to rub her face and realised too late that her stained fingers would have only spread it more.

Amusement glinted off Captain Bentham's eyes. "You've gone and made it worse. It's spreading to your ear."

Squashing her annoyance, Misa made to rub it again, this time with the back of her hand.

"Is it gone?"

"No. Near your jaw. A little lower. Higher now. Look, you've completely missed it." He sighed. "Here."

His touch was gentle as he raised her chin. His thumb stroked her cheek, almost mechanical but not rough. Now, Misa had to worry about pink smudging her skin in place of charcoal. She tried to pull away, but the captain kept a firm hold.

"Be still. It's almost gone."

"I can do it myself." Misa squirmed, her hands flying up to catch the captain's wrists. Her sketchbook toppled to the floor.

"You've already proven that you can't."

Oh, how Misa hated how he was always using her actions against her. She glared at him, letting him know that she was not happy with what he was doing.

It was only when she caught him staring that she realised they'd frozen in place. He had moved closer to her in an attempt to see the grey powder smeared across her cheek, and in doing so, their noses nearly touched.

Misa could feel his breath on her lips, the tingling warmth sending a delicious thrill down her spine. There was something frighteningly entrancing about him when he was this close to her. The tenderness she'd seen at the tavern a few weeks ago softened his eyes, like chocolate. Dark, delicious chocolate. If she moved just a little closer...

"Captain," she said, keeping her attention on his face. His eyes flickered. "You're supposed to be my brother."

He jolted, as if her words sent a bolt of lightning through his veins. He withdrew his hands from her and cleared his throat. "That's taken care of. I just couldn't stand seeing your face so unclean. It's not proper. You should consider wearing a mask of sorts the next time you draw."

Misa would have snapped back, but she found the situation too ridiculous to be mad. "There are lots of sides I didn't think I'd ever see but being flustered is one that I never even thought was possible for you."

He clenched his jaw. "I don't know how you got past my defense this time, but next time you won't be so successful. Let's hope we find the witch market soon to solve your uncontrollable enchantment problem."

Misa's mouth slackened. She took in his words, processed them several times over, yet she couldn't interpret them in any other way than she'd heard them. His embarrassed scowl, his evasive gaze...it was too much. Misa grinned, trying to hold back her laughter.

"You—" She breathed to stop herself from losing control. "You think I bewitched you?"

His withering look was the last straw. Laughter boiled over until it wheezed up her throat. She laughed until she choked on her breath. The captain was just too easy. Too, too easy.

"Enough," he snapped. He stood, unable to take anymore of Misa's mockery.

Misa wiped away a tear. She sighed, hoping her fit of laughter had finished. Sometimes, she wondered if the captain was only acting to show her a softer side of him in order to get her guard down. She noticed her sketchbook lying on the ground, her sketch of the fountain boasting itself to the stars above.

Misa went to pick it up, ready to turn in for the night, but then she froze with her fingers sidled under its weight.

The artwork had landed so that it faced away from Misa, so that the top of the chalice was pointing towards her. She saw the reflection of the sky at the base of the chalice and the water falling towards it.

Upside down. A bell that cried. The sky that was on the ground.

See this one cry, the riddle had said. See, not hear.

The chalice was not a chalice at all, but an upside-down bell. How had she not seen it before?

All this time, she had been searching, giving up, stressing over something so simple. And yet, the answer had been right in front of her, taunting her with its trickling spouts.

Misa stood and approached the fountain.