The Witch Hunter (The Witch Hunter #1)(62)

A shadow crosses the girl’s face, then she smiles. “That sounds just like him. So responsible! Well, that’s too bad. We had such a wonderful time together last year.”

I look at her. She’s tall and pretty, with long, straight black hair and big blue eyes. Tall enough that she wouldn’t have to stand on her toes if she wanted to kiss him. I push the thought away immediately.

“I’ve got a letter for him,” Chime continues. “Would you mind passing it on?” She pulls out a carefully folded piece of paper and hands it to Fifer. It’s got a bright red wax seal on it in the shape of a heart. Ugh.

“A letter?” Fifer holds it gingerly between her thumb and index finger, as if it were a dead rat.

“Yes. We’ve been writing each other since last year! Didn’t he tell you?”

Fifer raises her eyebrows.

“No? Well, John never was one to kiss and tell. As I say, very responsible!”

I’ve got half a mind to grab a fistful of that black hair, drag her into the woods, and cram that letter down her throat, but then Fifer speaks.

“Oh, Chime. I can’t believe John didn’t tell you. Well, so much has been going on, all the preparations. It’s been so whirlwind… but then, that’s what makes it so romantic!” She looks at me, a gleam in her eyes. “Go on, tell her the news!”

I look at her blankly. Surely she doesn’t want me to talk? Especially when I have no idea what she’s talking about?

“Oh, Elizabeth,” Fifer says. “You know I’m talking about you and John getting married!”

My mouth drops open. It feels as if a thousand of those bright blue butterflies have flown down my throat and into my stomach, beating their wings inside. Lark and Reverie shriek with glee and start hugging me.

Chime looks at me with undisguised hatred. “I don’t believe it.”

“No? Elizabeth, show her the ring!” Fifer grabs my hand and shoves it in her face.

Chime reaches over and snatches that hateful note out of Fifer’s hand and stomps off. Lark and Reverie besiege us with questions.

“When is the wedding?”

“We’ll be invited, won’t we?”

“I can’t give away all the secrets!” Fifer laughs. “I promise, you’ll all know soon enough. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I want to introduce Elizabeth to some more people!”

Fifer loops her arm through mine and leads me away.

“Ugh, I hate that girl,” she barks once we’re out of earshot. “I saw her and John together last year, but I didn’t know they’d been writing. And all year, too.” Fifer shudders, then bursts out laughing. “I can’t believe I told her John was getting married. It was the ring that gave me the idea. He’s going to kill me when he finds out! Serves him right, though, for not telling me about her.”

“What are you going to tell them when there’s no wedding?”

Fifer stops laughing, then pushes me away as if she’d forgotten who she was talking to.

“Never you mind. Besides, if you don’t find that tablet, I’m going to have bigger problems than a fake wedding.” She turns away from me. “Where’d Schuyler go?”

We see him standing by the lake talking to the nymphs, who are naked save for a piece of fabric tied strategically around their hips. They giggle and toss their hair at him.

“I swear, I can’t leave him alone for a minute!” Fifer stomps off toward him. Schuyler sees her coming and breaks away.

“Why are you talking to them?” Fifer demands.

“What, can’t I?”

“Why do the girls you talk to always have to be naked?”

“They’re not always. You aren’t.”

“Not today!”

“Fifer, I was simply admiring their—”

“Don’t say it!”

“Decorations. I was going to say decorations.”

They carry on arguing. I stand there, fidgeting and waiting for them to stop when Bram and another boy walk up. They’re both carrying cups of something giving off purple steam.

“They’re at it again, eh?” Bram laughs. “You might be here for a while. I figured you might need a drink.” He hands me a cup.

“Thank you.” I take a tentative sip.

“What does it taste like?” Bram’s friend asks eagerly.

I stop drinking immediately. “Why, what is it?”

Bram laughs. “Relax. He just means it tastes different to everyone. It’s supposed to be the essence of who or what you want the most. Mine, for example, tastes like ginger.” I notice his eyes flick to Fifer as he says this.

“What is it, some sort of love potion?” I peer inside the cup.

“More like a truth potion. The fun part is figuring out the truth.” They both drink deeply. “Careful, though. It’s strong stuff and a little goes a long way.”

I shrug. I know a thing or two about strong drinks. I’ve been drinking Joe’s ale since I was eleven. But a truth potion? I’d just as soon drink poison. Even still, I take another sip just to be polite.

“Congratulations on your wedding,” Bram says, and the two boys walk off.

“Thank you,” I say again, and take another sip. I have to admit, it tastes good. Spicy and tangy, almost like shandygaff, a mixture of ginger beer and lemons that Joe sometimes serves. Caleb always joked it was the most normal thing on the menu.