Witch Bewitched

Chapter 1

     The first time Misa snuck out of her room, her foot had gotten caught on the windowsill, and she had fallen chin first onto the grass beneath. She had never smelled something so fresh and exciting. It had been seven years since her bare feet had touched the blades for the first time, and still, she never failed to relish in the freedom of running her toes through the greenery.

    A small giggle escaped her lips. Misa drew out her sandals from her hessian bag and dropped them next to her feet. After thoroughly wiggling her toes on the cool grass, she slipped her feet into her shoes. Cold air swept through her hair, and she breathed it in.

     “Misa? Have you finished yet?” Elma’s soft, timid voice breezed through the window. She had been hired specifically to keep an eye on Misa, but the poor maid was much too naïve to be effective. A twinge of guilt nagged in the back of Misa’s mind knowing that she was likely putting Elma in a difficult place by escaping during her watch.

    Misa sighed, then leaned into the window until the ledge dug into her midriff. Cupping her mouth, she called, “Not yet, Elma. I’m having some trouble coming up with inspiration. I think I’ll need to study a few picture books before I can continue. Come back in two hours?”

    Elma hesitated before she spoke. “T-two hours?”

    “I’ll be right here, I promise. I haven’t caused trouble in two months. Give me a chance, would you?”

    “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. Very well. Two hours. I’ll prepare some tea in the meantime.”

    “Thanks, Elma! And remember not to interrupt. I don’t want to snap at you for scaring me while I paint.”

    “Of course. I’ll take my leave then.”

     Misa listened until Elma’s shuffling faded into silence. She stayed for a few seconds more before slipping to the ground and gently shutting the window.

    Two hours. It was a lot shorter than she would have liked, but Misa had to take what she could get. After staying cooped up like a prisoner in her own home for two months, she couldn’t take feeling like a chained bird for a moment more. Even two mere hours outside would refresh her for the next period of imprisonment.

    When she was certain no one would see her, Misa slipped towards the wall binding the perimeter of the property. It was made of stacked bricks that jut out unevenly, making for an easy climb. The obstacle before her was the reason Misa had chosen to wear a short skirt over black tights rather than the conventional knee-length (or ankle-length) dress most women wore when they had an outing, though dressing in such a way her parents wouldn’t approve encouraged her to dress so rebelliously.

    Misa slid the straps over her shoulder so the bag hung behind her and reached up for the first ledge. The coarse, gritty rock was like an old friend to her fingers. She crawled up the walls, her hands and feet never touching a protruding brick for more than a second.

    She reached the top in a minute, and before thinking twice, she pulled herself over the wall. Using her right foot to push against the wall, she jumped, turned midair, and landed on her sandals.

    The open space before her seemed to welcome her back. Misa stalked forward with a grin. Her heart still fluttered at the thought of the little adventure waiting for her.

    Misa reached the edge of a dirt road that led into the city. It bustled with men, women, and children. Carts carrying fresh produce wheeled back and forth. The crowd parted for a carriage pulled by two horses.

    Glancing back towards the wall of her home, Misa drew her cowl over her head, hiding her glossy black hair from the heat of the sun. She enjoyed the rushing crowd, and she followed the wave of customers into the busy market lying just before the road turned into stone.

       She loved browsing merchandise, admiring the craftsmanship that went into beautiful jewelry, dresses, and trinkets. A stall selling small wooden figurines caught her eye. Misa approached it and studied the figures closely. The carvings were nothing short of remarkable. Each held such intricate details that she wondered how there could be any knife thin enough to whittle the delicate designs. Dogs, cows, horses, even people and carriages were put on display.

    “Ah, has the little miss seen something she likes?” the stall owner asked. His eyes sparkled with pride, and Misa knew he was the whittler.

    “They’re all so beautiful,” Misa said, tracing her finger along the purposeful notches. “How could I choose?”

    The whittler chuckled. “You’re too kind. Perhaps, I could make a suggestion?”

    Misa gave a small smile and nodded. “That would be nice.”

     The short man drew his finger above his creations, humming in thought. Then, with a cry of triumph, he grabbed a figurine and displayed it in his hand.

     “A swan?” Misa identified. She hesitated before gently taking it between her fingers.

    “Swans are a symbol of beauty, grace, elegance. All traits I see in you. They also represent love. Perhaps this charm will help you find a good man.”

    Misa’s cheeks began to burn, and she pulled her cowl to hide her face in the shadow. Every time she had snuck out to the streets, someone had always brought up her beauty without fail. Large, doe eyes, a soft rounded chin, and black hair framing her oval face coupled with her well-developed body had gotten her more than her fair share of admirers. Misa had enjoyed the compliments at first, but she slowly grew uncomfortable by the attention, especially when they came from aggressive suitors that followed her home while insisting they were “escorting” her.

    “I’m sorry, but would it be okay if I buy something else? Do you have anything that represents freedom?”

    The whittler seemed surprised. He studied her for a moment, then took the swan from her. “Have I offended you, Miss? I deeply apologize. I was only jesting.”

      “No, it’s okay.” Misa looked away. “I would rather choose freedom over love. Otherwise, I’m afraid I’ll never be happy.”

    “Very well.” He plucked a bird that was displayed at the front. “Eagles are a powerful symbol of freedom. They can soar the sky, free to go wherever they please. They are also proud and strong.”

    Misa smiled. “That’ll do, thank you. How much would it be?”

    The whittler hummed, stroking his short beard. “Miss, one small figurine is five hundred loncs. I will bag it for you.”

          Nodding, Misa dug through her bag and pulled out her purse. She counted five strings of silver coins and handed them to the man. Exchanging the money with a small bag, the man smiled. “Thanks, Miss. I apologize again if I offended you from buying the swan. I hope to see you again.”

    Without another word, Misa turned on her heel and went deeper into the market. She shoved her purchase into her satchel and began to make her way towards the purgehouse. It was usually a place where criminals could walk free for a small bribe, and the officers were particularly brutal towards the poor, but Misa’s experiences there were always pleasant.

    As she reached the building, she recognized a tall, young man taking hasty steps down the stairs. He stopped at the bottom, going rigid, and stuck his hand to his cap in a stiff salute. Another man, who Misa took to be the captain, nodded then climbed a carriage that awaited him. She watched it drive past her before she ran towards the gray uniform.

    “Torren!” Misa laughed as she threw her arms around his waist.

    Pools of blue stared down at her, mischief glancing off them even with the disciplined sobriety the job demanded. Torren the lieutenant melted into Torren the friend—someone Misa could always rely on since he had saved her from an accusation of thievery. “Misa? What are you doing out here?”

    Misa backed away and smiled. “Didn’t you miss me?”

    With an exasperated sigh and an exaggerated eyeroll, Torren said, “You ran away from home? Again?”

    “What did you expect? I can’t stand staying inside. But, nevermind me. Look at you! I saw you with the captain. You must be his right-hand lieutenant now!”

    At that, Torren’s usual charm surfaced. He grinned and spread out his arms as if he was presenting a show. “That’s right, Miss! I’m important now! You better watch yourself around me or you might end up in a bad place!”

    “Pfft! That’ll never happen.” Misa couldn’t help but laugh. “All I have to do is give you some loncs, and you’ll let me go immediately!”

    “Nope, not me.” Torren waved his arms to protest. “You know me, Misa! I’m an officer! I would never, ever, ever take a bribe from—ooh, is that for me?”

    Misa giggled as she dangled one hundred loncs in front of Torren. He made a grab for it, but Misa backed away just in time. She continued to tease him until he finally caught hold of it.

    “Aha! You’re free to go now, Misa! I won’t hold you against anything.”

    Misa opened her mouth to reply, but her eyes widened when she saw another uniformed man standing behind Torren. The man was wide and stocky, built with muscle and a composure that demanded respect. His mustache was peppered with white attesting his age. On his breast, he wore several badges, and Misa recognized the mark of a commander—gold plates padding his shoulders. She shook her hand to signal her friend, but he continued his triumphant tirade.

    “Actually, I think I caught you stealing last time. You should give me some loncs for that if you want to go free.”

    “Torren!” Misa hissed.

    “Don’t worry. No one has to know. I’ll be sure to keep it a secret.”

    It was only when the commander cleared his throat that Torren froze like a mouse paralyzed by a python. He blinked. Misa could see his throat move as he swallowed.

    “You should watch your tongue, officer,” the commander said. Even the way he spoke left no argument against his authority, though Misa supposed it came with the position.

    Pivoting around, Torren stomped a foot and stiffened his stance. “Sir!”

    After a salute, he began to march forward. He was about to take another step when Misa noticed a black blur flash towards his feet. She tried to warn him, but by the time the first word left her mouth, a high-pitched yowl pierced through the air.

    Torren, caught by surprise, stumbled and, most probably because he had locked his muscles in that rigid display of a soldier, lost his balance. He fell rather inelegantly, reminding Misa of a blundering bear. He reached out to grab something that would stop his fall. Then, as if his luck couldn’t get any worse, his fingers clamped around the material of the commander’s trousers, and with the momentum of his fall, the commander was left standing in his bright blue underwear.

    Misa’s face reddened, and she clapped her hands over her face. She felt just as humiliated as she imagined the commander would, and she feared what would befall Torren for causing such distress.

    “I’m so sorry, Commander!” Misa heard Torren’s desperate attempts to remedy his mistake. “Everyone, look away, now! Here, sir, let me help you with that.”

    “Get your hands away from my trousers, you imbecile!” The commander’s voice filled with rage. Misa peeked. She was relieved to see he had managed to pull his pants back up, but his reddened face and shaking fists didn’t bode well for her friend.

    Torren scratched the back of his head looking almost sheepish. “My mistake, sir. If there’s any way to make up to you—”

    “I expected much more class from you, Lieutenant. Your actions thus far have me concerned if you are deserving of your rank. You will watch yourself if you do not want to be demoted.”

    “Of course. I’ll definitely do that. Again, I apologize. What would you have me do to make up for it? A nice dinner, perhaps? An invite to an extravagant party happening in a week from now? If you would like, I will pull down my own trousers right now, sir! No sense in being the only one to be humiliated in such a manner!”

    Misa couldn’t take any more of Torren’s incessant apologies. It didn’t help that he seemed to be making matters worse by handling the situation as if it was a joke. Though Misa knew it was his way of dealing with a situation such as this, to many spectators, he would likely come off as a rude, obnoxious brat.

    She moved towards Torren, stopping on the way to pick up the cause of his accident. The black cat mewed and rubbed against Misa’s neck. She rubbed her thumb on the scruff of its neck. A familiar tingle spread through her skin like wildfire. In an instant, power pulsed through her veins.

    “Commander?” Misa stepped in line with Torren. “If I may offer an explanation, I’m afraid it was my cat’s fault for Torren’s accident. She gets quite excited when she sees me and tends to tangle around people’s feet while she runs.”

    The commander turned his attention to Misa, and almost immediately, his gaze softened. “Young Miss, you don’t have to apologize. I’m sorry you had to witness such a sight.” He barked an embarrassed laugh.

    Misa could feel Torren’s stare boring into her temples. She suspected it was the first time he had seen the commander act this way. She tended to have that effect, especially with men, and though she despised the feeling that she was being treated differently, occasions arose when her strange ability to bend men’s resolve to help her became useful.

    With an inward sigh, she maintained a friendly smile and said, “It was no one’s fault, sir. If you would forgive my friend for causing you such humiliation, I would be awfully grateful.”

    Chuckling, the commander scratched his head. “Erm, well, of course, Miss. You’re free to go, Lieutenant. I hope nothing like this comes from you again.”

    Murmuring to himself, he turned away and continued on his path away from the purgehouse. Misa released a breath of air.

    “Impressive.” Torren’s eyes glinted with mischief. “I knew you had a way with people, but I didn’t expect that you’d be able to tame the lion, too.”

    “Oh, don’t be ridiculous.” Misa looked away, hating herself for what she had done. Every time she stepped up to convince someone to do her a favor, she felt as if she was bending their will to do her bidding, and she despised the amount of control she seemed to have over a stranger’s mind. The tingle rushing through her body like a shower of water subsided, taking the mask she held to calm the commander with it.

    “I’m serious, Misa. You’re quite amazing.”

    Letting herself smile, Misa scratched the scruff of the cat’s neck. She slipped her free hand into her sack and brought out a piece of dried fish that she had stolen from the kitchen that morning to feed her furry companion. Torren, noticing the culprit that almost caused his demise, narrowed his eyes. “And who is your little friend?”

    Misa let the cat drop to the ground with the fish stuck in its mouth. “Her name is Min-Min. She always seems to watch over me when I come to the streets. I’m surprised you two have never met.”

    Torren shrugged. “Well, it’s not like I meet you every time you get a chance to leave your home. Ah!” He pulled out his pocket watch. “I’m afraid we have to part here, Misa. It’s a shame I can’t hang around, but I’ve gotten quite busy since I started working under Captain Bentham. It’s a lot worse nowadays because of the witch killer. I’ll see you around.”

    Misa nodded. The witch killer was a criminal terrorizing the streets of Giligha for months. Bodies of young girls were found, usually with notes of how the killer was claiming to be purging the witches that the purgehouse allowed to walk. From what Torren had told her, Misa gathered that it was a difficult case to handle, and the captain had made it his priority. The result was a lot of paperwork falling on Torren’s shoulders.

    “Of course, Torren. Goodbye, and don’t get into any more trouble!”

    Grinning at her words, Torren turned his back and disappeared into the purgehouse. Misa glanced down at Min-Min. Something about Torren’s actions nagged at her mind. She began walking down the street. Min-Min followed behind. Her black fur was so dark she looked like an abyss against the long shadows that stretched from one side of the street to the other.

    Torren had pulled out his watch to check the time. Why did that bother her so much? It was only when Misa found herself admiring a paintbrush that she realized. Her heart stopped, and she dropped the brush back onto the stall.

    “Papa’s going to kill me!” she muttered. She looked at the position of the sun and guessed it had been well over two hours since she had snuck out of her room. Without wasting a second more, she began rushing towards her home.