Fear the Drowning Deep(10)

Whatever the stench’s source, I would rather have dunked my head in a bucket of week-old fish than stand there for another moment breathing it in. “May we open the windows?” I asked in the dulcet tone that usually earned me an extra scone at Mrs. Kissack’s.

Morag sniggered as she flung plates carelessly onto her hulking monstrosity of a table. “You’re my new caretaker, aren’t you? Or is it the shy one?”

Liss huffed.

I gripped the doorknob tighter and tried to make out Morag’s features in spite of the deep shadows. By the time my eyes adjusted to the low light, the witch had turned away.

“I am. I’m Bridey. But you didn’t—”

“If you think the windows need to be opened, then open them, Apprentice Bridey.” Morag limped toward the hearth where a kettle hung over glowing embers.

I glanced at Liss, who nodded encouragingly, then I moved slowly through the room. The ruddy firelight made the witch’s furniture seem more menacing than ordinary objects should. I passed a large table on my left, a cabinet on my right, and banged my shin on a stool. Bits of dried herbs and straw stuck to my feet, marking one of the rare occasions on which I wished everyone on the Isle—myself included—wore shoes every day.

“I thought she’d have more dead things hanging about,” Liss whispered.

I yelped, shoving her away without thinking, and she staggered back and bumped the table with her hip.

“What was that for?” Liss narrowed her eyes, rubbing her side.

“You scared me.” I glanced at Morag. She was focused on coaxing the fire to burn brighter and hadn’t appeared to hear the noise. “You know, now that we’ve seen her, I don’t think she’s a day over eighty. And if she has any spell books in here, they’re lost under all this other junk.”

Liss chuckled, but kept her wide-eyed stare.

“Will you help me with the windows?” My eyes watered as the house’s putrid smell grew stronger.

“As long as you don’t push me again.” Liss frowned. “But then I’ll have to be on my way. Ms. Katleen is expecting me before the lunch crowd.”

Those were the words I’d been dreading, though I couldn’t blame Liss for wanting to escape.

The flimsy shutters opened at my slight touch, but the motion sent a cloud of debris into my face. I leaned out the window, coughing, and gulped clean forest air until the tightness in my chest eased.

“Splendid!” Liss smiled as she admired her work on the other window. Somehow, she’d found the means to tie back the curtains on her side. The curtains nearest me hung in tatters, raising puffs of dust as they shifted in a breeze.

“Maybe we should swap jobs.”

“Not a chance, dear sister.” Liss pecked my cheek. “See you tonight.” She walked calmly to the door.

“Leaving already?” Morag asked without looking up.

Liss paused in the doorway, silhouetted by daylight. “I’m afraid so. I have duties to attend in town. Good day.” I wished she’d added: and I’ll cut out your tongue if you attempt a single spell on my sister.

My stomach sank as I watched Liss go. So far, the old woman didn’t seem as forbidding as the rumors claimed, but what if her demeanor changed now that we were alone? I stood stiffly, hands at my sides, wondering what Morag wished me to do first. I didn’t have long to wait.

A rhythmic thumping accompanied the witch as she made her way from the hearth to the table holding a kettle. “Come pour our tea, lass.”

I opened my mouth to ask whether she’d seen Nessa Daley recently, then closed it. Morag would probably just laugh creakily. Although her cottage smelled like death, with so much rubbish, there was little room left to conceal a body. Maybe Nessa really had run away to make a life for herself in Peel with a handsome tailor.

Sighing, I lifted the kettle.

“You’re strong,” Morag muttered, pinching my arm. I jerked away. “How’d you get muscles like that? Your sister didn’t look capable of lifting so much as a chair.”

I arched my brows, rubbing my arm. “I chop a lot of firewood for my mam. Da’s almost always at sea, and my sister Mally’s never been up for the task.”

“You’ll make a good apprentice, then.” Morag slouched in a seat and pushed two mugs toward me. I wondered if they held moths and spiders. “I doubt I’d find many other girls in town chopping wood.”

“I don’t mind. It always helps clear my head.” I peered into the mugs, surprised to find them spotless. “Do you take sugar?” Remembering my surroundings, I amended, “Do you have sugar?”

“I like my tea plain and piping hot, lass.”

I served the witch’s brew and, after seeing her glance more than once at the second mug, filled it, too. Taking the only other chair at the table, I stared into my murky tea, remembering the sight of the drowned girl and the black fin under the harbor dock.

Finally, the witch set her tea down and blinked. “Are you afraid of tea?”

I wanted to ask how she thought I’d be comfortable having tea with her after seeing the state of her kitchen. Instead, I replied, “No ma’am. But I’m not here for tea. I’m here to work.”

She acted as though she hadn’t heard. “This particular blend is birch bark and chamomile. It’ll make your pretty hair grow longer.”