Witch Bewitched (New)

Chapter 58

The witches' meet, or gathering as Rithian referred to it, was held at the basement of a brothel, in a hidden room behind a hollow wall. Rithian paused at the entrance, scanning the cosy interior with narrowed eyes. Misa followed suit, though she was more interested in the paintings on the walls.

Portraits of women with crowns of flowers, landscape paintings of mountains, the sky, and a forest, and abstract paintings with recognisable motifs decorated the otherwise unremarkable room. Misa wished to get a closer look, to see the texture each stroke of a brush had left behind, but she tore her eyes away and followed when Rithian began to move once more.

They stayed close to the wall, mostly because a large, round table took most of the space the small room offered. Dozens of chairs squeezed around it, and there were already several witches seated, chatting amongst one another. Misa paled when she caught sight of Nisha, her frame taller than the witches around her.

Misa only realised she had stopped when Rithian hissed at her to follow. Though she complied, Misa could not stop a boulder of dread from tumbling down her gut when she saw which direction they were headed. Misa's feet were heavy, her shoes filled to the brim with iron or steel.

Maybe if she slipped away, Nisha wouldn't see her. Misa pressed closer to the wall, obscuring Nisha's view with Rithian.

"Misa Carpenter?"

Misa shuddered. Nisha stood from her seat, greeting Misa where her back plastered against the wall.

"N-Nisha," Misa returned. Her throat was dry, grainy, closing with fear.

"My, my." Her lips tugged into a smile, but her eyes burned with a ferocity that shook Misa to the core. She pressed a hand on Misa's cheek, brushing back a stray piece of hair with the edge of a sharp, black nail. A soft gesture that held so much power. "What a nice surprise. I didn't think you'd be back so soon."

"I-I..." Misa couldn't think. She felt a tug of Tika's magic, a slight thud against the chest it lay within.

Nisha bent down to Misa's height and spoke in her ear. "I can feel my sister's presence in you." Her voice was barely above a whisper, yet Misa still shook from the ferocity within it.. "But I have hope that you will be nothing like her."

"What do you—"

Nisha pulled back, raking a hand through Misa's hair, coiling her finger with dark locks. "It seems I was mistaken. You're a fine witch, Misa. There won't be a bone of betrayal in you."

Misa couldn't keep the confusion from knitting her brows, and Nisha let out a light laugh.

"It's nothing, my dear." She gestured behind her, bringing Misa's attention to the witches streaming in from hidden doors throughout the room. "Why don't we take a seat? I'm sure all our sisters here will be delighted to meet you."

Misa held back from ripping Nisha's hand from her. She couldn't figure out why the witch was showing so much affection towards her, and she didn't know if it was only a means to confuse her.

A shove from behind sent her stumbling forward, nearly crashing into Nisha. Misa managed to veer off at the last second. She whirled around, annoyance lacing with panic. The wall behind her had pushed forward, revealing yet another hidden door. How many secret passageways had been paved to this very room?

"Oh my." Nisha chuckled. "I should have warned you to stay at least a hand's breadth away from the wall."

A young, petite witch emerged from the dark, musty tunnel. She dusted the cowl over her head, sending bits of cobwebs and dust sprinkling around Misa.

"This is ridiculous!" she said in a high-pitched voice. "Why was this passage assigned to me?"

"You weren't the only one." A tall, dark woman popped out of the door, ducking beneath because of her sheer height. At once, Misa recognized her.

"Sha'ka!" She beamed.

The witch paused, studying Misa. Then, a small smile flashed her teeth, so white they were almost as dazzling as the piercings reflecting the bright suspended orb of light shining from the ceiling.

"Do you know her?" The smaller witch inquired, scrunching her nose. There was something vaguely familiar about her.

Sha'ka inclined her head at Misa, a gesture Misa understood to be a greeting. "Indeed. It's a pleasure to meet you again, Misa Carpenter. I see you've found your way. Has Rithian been treating you well?"

Misa grimaced but didn't explain. She wasn't entirely sure what Sha'ka meant by treating her 'well.' Perhaps in the witches' world, Rithian's teaching methods were considered 'good' treatment, and Misa had a feeling Rithian wouldn't appreciate gossip behind her back. To her relief, a witch demanding attention robbed her chance to reply.

"Take a seat, sisters! It's time!"

Nisha wrapped her fingers over Misa's shoulder, sharp nails digging through the fabric of her dress. Without another word, or any acknowledgement to Sha'ka and the small witch, Nisha directed Misa towards the seats.

"It would do you good to stay away from those two," Nisha whispered in her ear. Misa gulped. It was not a suggestion, and Misa didn't dare to ask why.

Pushing Misa down a seat next to Rithian, Nisha took her place on Misa's other side. The hushed conversations ceased, and an old, weathered witch commenced the gathering. She raised her arms, her giant sleeves pooling at the curve of her elbows, yawning like the mouth of a beast. Her right hand gripped tightly on a smooth wooden stick, a bright violet gem attached to its flat, whorled end.

"By Fariki's Ordain we breathe, by Fariki's Ordain we come together, and by Fariki's Ordain we shall live."

Together as one, the witches around the table responded, "Oronis sidikha noseum."

"There is an important discussion to be had at this gathering. Ferma, witch of scribing, you may speak." She pointed the staff at a plump witch with thick black curls.

"Yes, Anaya." Ferma stood from her seat. Her anger was subtle, but even Misa could see the hard lines of displeasure on her face.

"Today, I bear bad news." The round witch paused, letting her black eyes settle on each and every witch sitting around the table. "One of us has broken the Ordain, and she shall pay."

Even through the silence, Misa could sense the collective intake of breath. She shifted on her seat, hunching against the back of her chair. Something brimmed in the air, a buzz of unease, a shock of quiet panic. She glanced at Rithian, saw a knitted brow, a slight scowl but no concern. She dared to watch Nisha, and she stiffened.

The witch wasn't nearly as shocked as the rest of them. Instead, she was smiling. Their eyes met, and her expression morphed into a cold, disapproving scowl, a mask of a witch displeased by an act against their society. But Misa had already seen it—the satisfaction, the sickening glee.

Misa forced herself to watch the witch announcing the crimes. She pointed at a section of the circle.

"Brin, witch of healing."

"W-what?"

Misa's attention snapped to the small voice. The small witch had eyes wide open, and her face paled into a deathly white. The witch who had come with Sha'ka.

"It has come to my attention that your magic has killed two men."

"I-wait-I—" Brin stood, shaking off Sha'ka's quiet warnings. "I can explain."

"Time will come for that." Ferma raised her palm for silence. "Before we listen to you, we must bring light to your crimes."

"No! I-I can—"

Sha'ka laid a hand on Brin's arm, and the small witch clamped her mouth shut. Her eyes glistened with tears as she slumped back to her seat. Sha'ka rubbed her back, her bracelets clinking ever so slightly.

"Ten days ago, two men left this realm so abruptly, so violently that it shook an entire city. Word has spread like wildfire, whispering in the wind, carrying their story from village to village, from city to city. An accident. Perhaps, it was, but we know better. We know the secrets to our magic, and we know it was no accident."

Misa's blood ran cold. Ten days. Two men. A witch posing it as an accident. Could it be a coincidence? She looked back at Brin. Such a small, child-like witch. Hadn't she been introduced as a witch of healing? Could she have taken Leira?

"Traces of magic has been found. We know it was you."

Brin trembled in her seat, covering her mouth with tense, jittery hands.

"A tragedy orchestrated by a witch's magic, posing as an accident to avoid detection." Anaya took over, but Ferma remained standing. "You have broken Fariki's Ordain, Brin, witch of healing. What words do you wish to speak before your judgement?"

Brin's chair screeched as she stood, still quivering under the scrutiny of the coven. She forced her hands to leave her face, raised her chin, and spoke in a pitch higher than before.

"I...I admit that it was me, but you must believe me that it was an accident. No one was supposed to die that day. I was simply...I was simply trying to save one of our kind!"

"One of our kind?" Anaya stamped the butt of the staff on the table, sending ripples of the witches' wrath across the surface.

"Y-yes." Brin glanced at Misa. No. At Nisha. And yet, she pointed no fingers. "I was informed that there was a witch captured by the purgehouse. I only wished to save her from execution."

The circle bristled, though no one spoke a word.

"And how do you wish to prove this?"

"I wasn't alone! Kaila can be my witness."

At this, Nisha stood from her seat. She waited until the staff pointed her way.

"Kaila is not here. I was told she has gone to Warlog to enjoy the beaches. She left nearly two weeks ago. How could she be a witness if she was never in Giligha?"

Giligha. Misa straightened in her seat, stamped her feet onto the ground to stop herself from standing and demanding Brin to tell her where Leira was. Her nails dug into her palms, and she felt a silent rage simmer below her skin, boiling and freezing her blood at the same time.

"Lies!" Brin hissed. She finally pointed her finger. "You were the one who informed us. You said she would be executed, and we all know why an execution can not happen. Where is my sister? What have you done with Kaila?"

"Did you really think Kaila would take your side simply because of your bloodline?" Nisha spoke with a confidence that terrified Misa. "Perhaps, it's a blessing she isn't here. I can't imagine how difficult it would be for her to choose between honouring the Ordain and protecting her sister."

Misa shuddered. Her limbs trembled with an itch to demand answers. Leira had been taken by Brin. And if Brin was here, Leira could be, too. It wouldn't do her any good if Misa got caught by the coven and had her history with the purgehouse exposed. It was solely this thought that kept her glued to her seat.

She watched Brin, unable to determine if she was telling the truth. It seemed she was not the only one, and the witch holding the staff cut their conversation short.

"Enough. Your personal problems may be solved outside the gathering. Perhaps, this can wait until Kaila's return. Her testament may shed light to who is speaking the truth."

Another scrape of a chair, and Sha'ka's frame rose above Brin's. She waited until the staff pointed at her.

"If I may be of any help," Sha'ka said, "Brin did inform me of her leave with her sister a few days before the accident. Perhaps, there is truth in her story."

Rithian snorted but remained in her seat.

Nisha smiled. "Unless, it was you who went with her. How would we know if you were both lying to cover your crimes?"

Sha'ka shot Nisha a glare. "I would never dishonour my oath to the Ordain. Even if it means I must expose the crimes of my friend."

"How could we trust you? We wouldn't be the first you betrayed."

Anger exuded from Sha'ka, so thick Misa could feel its heat from where she sat. It mingled with Misa's own fury, crackling the atmosphere.

"I simply speak the truth," Sha'ka said, somehow reining in all her anger from her voice. "Take what you will." She returned to her seat, watching the witch in charge with a subtle determination to keep herself calm. Respect for the witch struck a part of Misa, and she allowed herself to breathe, to soothe her impulse.

A plan. Misa needed a plan. If she marched to Brin and demanded answers, everything could shatter. Her chances to find Leira would diminish, and everything Royle had worked for would amount to nothing. For Leira. For Royle. She had to keep a cool head and plan her next move.

Nisha addressed the rest of the coven, her speech clear and sure. "No matter the reason, no matter the intentions, the fact still remains. Brin killed two men with her magic, and that is unforgivable. I propose we judge her now."

The matriarch nodded in thought. "We shall put it to a vote. Those of you willing to judge Brin, witch of healing, for her crimes right this instance, raise your right hand. If you wish to wait until Kaila's return, raise your left."

Misa didn't hesitate. She raised her left hand, boring her gaze into Brin as she did so. Whatever punishment awaited the witch, Misa didn't really care. All she knew was that it would be much harder to fish for information should anything happen to Brin.

The witch took a moment to count the votes. "Twelve right, fourteen left." She tapped the purple stone against the table. "Judgement shall fall another day."

Brin settled into her seat, her shoulders slightly releasing her tension. Sha'ka muttered something to her, and she nodded.

With a puff of breath, Nisha took her seat. She glowered at Misa, sending a spark of fear into her messy pot of emotions.

"Why did you raise your left?" she asked, too soft for anyone else to hear.

Misa shrugged, hoping her face was as neutral as she imagined it to be. "I didn't think it was fair without hearing the full story."

"It seems our minds will be occupied with this case for some time," the staff witch said. "We have a new witch joining us today, but because Brin's judgement has not yet come, I suggest she take her oath after this is all done. Do we agree?"

With no objections, the witch once again spread her arms. "Then we shall finish this gathering here. May Fariki's Ordain guide you."

"Oronis sidikha noseum," the witches replied.

"Meeting adjourned." Two taps of the stone against the table.

As if a spell had been broken, the witches sprang to life. Conversations sparked, chairs scraped against the ground, shadows flitted about. Misa kept her eyes on Brin. The witch sprang from her seat almost as soon as the chatters began. Sha'ka followed behind her, almost chasing her as Brin opened the door to her secret passage and disappeared beyond it.

A pat on Misa's head startled her from her trance. She looked up to see Nisha standing over her.

"Why do you keep watching them?"

Misa tried not to tense. "It's hard to imagine a witch as small as her could kill two men."

"Size has nothing to do with power." Nisha removed her hand. "Every single witch in this room has the capability to släughter a village if they want. Including you."

"I would never." Misa pushed her chair back, standing, though Nisha still looked down at her. "I would never use magic to kill."

Nisha smiled as if amused. "Such innocence. I haven't seen such sweet innocence in a long, long time. How you will grow. I will truly enjoy watching you bloom into a poisonous flower."

Misa took a step back, despising how small she felt next to Nisha. Like she was still a child. How many times had Misa tried to fight against it? How many times had she set out to prove she was not a child anymore?

"Nisha." It was Rithian. "You...What are you planning?"

Nisha's smile dropped. Her predatory gaze turned into a sharp, deathly glare. "Not here, Rithian."

Misa shuddered. She had to put her thoughts together. Brin had taken Leira, but if what she said was true, if Nisha had orchestrated the entire thing...

No. Leira had to be okay. There was clear animosity between the two witches even before Nisha accused Brin of murder. It simply wouldn't make sense for Brin to have taken Leira to Nisha. It was all Misa could cling on to. The hope that if Leira was in the hands of Brin, someone who always seemed to be accompanied by a sympathetic witch like Sha'ka, the girl would be safe from harm. Just until Misa could find her.

"Misa!" Rithian snapped, bringing Misa out of her thoughts. "I said, let's go."

Nisha was nowhere to be seen. Rithian shoved Misa towards the stairs leading up to the brothel. Misa bit back a bitter remark. Whatever wounds Nisha salted, Rithian was clearly taking it out on Misa.

But, Misa didn't really care. All she could think about was the fact that Leira could be here, that the witch that had killed Colvin and Taketh was right here, in Harthem. It was all Misa could do to not chase after her, to beat the answers from her if she had to.

If Royle was here—

Misa pushed the thought out of her mind. Royle wasn't here to make all the plans. He wasn't here to evaluate the situation with that calculating head of his, devoid of emotional judgement, devoid of the rush of panic that drummed on his instinct to just do something. No. This was something Misa had to do.

This time, it was Misa's turn.