The Witch Hunter (The Witch Hunter #1)(7)

I’m so lost in my thoughts I don’t notice the other boys getting up until Caleb is standing above me.

“We’re going back to the palace,” he says. “To visit the queen’s rooms. There’s supposed to be dancing later.”

I shrug. I’d rather not think about Caleb dancing with Katherine Willoughby. Caleb doesn’t even like dancing.

“What are you going to do?”

“Stay here,” I say. “Listen to music. Drink ale.”

Caleb raises his eyebrows. “Why? It’s awful.”

“I like it.” But he’s right. It is awful. It’s heavy and flat and has a strange metallic taste that burns my throat when I swallow. Though it’s nothing compared with the churning in my stomach and the terrible prickling behind my eyes, the kind I get when I’m about to cry.

“Okay.” He frowns. “But be careful with it. It feels a little strong, and—”

“I’ll be fine.” I wave him off. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I always worry about you,” he says. But then he leaves. I watch him go, wishing more than anything I was the kind of girl who could make him stay.





I MOVE FROM THE TABLE to a plush chair near the fireplace and order lunch—some bread and cheese and more of Joe’s funny green ale. The burning sensation has gone away, and it’s starting to taste pretty good. The other patrons seem to think so, too; they’re downing it by the bucketful and are louder and more boisterous than usual.

I have no idea how long I’ve been here until a man at the bar stumbles to stand, knocks his stool to the floor, and starts retching. He bolts for the door, and when he flings it open, it’s pitch black outside.

Have I really been here all day? It seems like only a couple of hours. I guess I should go back to the palace, but there’s nothing waiting for me there. At least nothing good. Another ale sounds like a much better idea. I jump to my feet.

Big mistake. The world starts to spin—fast. I reach out to steady myself, but as I place my hand on the wall, it disappears. Not the wall, my hand. Into the stone, right up to my wrist.

Fascinating.

I pull my hand out of the wall, then stick it back again. Over and over again, until someone speaks up.

“Something wrong with your hand, love?”

I turn around. The voice belongs to the man sitting across from me, his face hidden in a veil of smoke.

“Yes. No. I don’t know. Only… hands don’t usually disappear into walls, do they?” Through the fog in my head, I know I’m not making any sense. I start laughing.

The smoke lifts to reveal the man’s face: curly black hair, short black beard. A long, curved pipe dangles from his mouth. It has a wooden stem and a white bowl carved into the shape of a dog’s head. He speaks without taking it out.

“You’re a little young to be drinking that stuff, aren’t you?”

I laugh even harder. I’ve been on my own for so long that it seems absurd for someone to question my behavior. Especially when that someone is a pirate. I can tell by his pipe. Only well-traveled men, like pirates or the wealthy, own pipes like his. The rest make do with ordinary ones. Besides, the wealthy don’t hang out in taverns like this. Which leaves pirates.

I stare at his pipe as it bobs up and down, then give a start when it transforms into a giant black snake. It slithers out of his mouth and winds itself around his neck. The pirate continues, seemingly oblivious to the enormous snake wrapping itself around his head.

“I wouldn’t let my son drink this, and he’s older than you. You can’t be more than, what, fourteen?”

“Sixteen. Watch it!”

I reach forward and smack the pirate square in the mouth, knocking the snake to the floor. It lies there, coiling and shuddering, then bursts into a rainbow.

“Pretty.” I wave my hands, trying to catch the ribbons of light spiraling in front of me. A chorus of voices fills the room then—they’re coming from the rainbow. “Listen. Can you hear that? The rainbow is singing!” I open my mouth and sing along with it. “Greensleeves, la-la-la who but my Lady Greeeensleeeeves…”

“God’s blood, you’re a mess,” the pirate mutters.

He picks his pipe off the ground and tucks it inside his cape, then he takes me by the arm and leads me to the door. I take offense to this. He really shouldn’t be touching me, him a pirate and me a young girl and all. And I definitely shouldn’t be letting a strange man lead me outside and to God knows where. But I can’t seem to stop singing long enough to tell him this.

“Why don’t we get you some air?” he says.

“There’s air in here. I can see it! It’s pink. Did you know air was pink?” I babble away, looking up at the pirate as he guides me out into the now-crowded alley. He’s really tall. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Peter.” He turns away from me. “George, there you are. Thanks for coming so fast. So? What do you think?”

“Nice to meet you, Peter George. I’m Elizabeth Grey. Do you see the stars, Peter George? They’re spelling your name in the sky. P-E-T…” I jab my finger at the twinkling lights that dance in front of my eyes. They’re so close I can almost touch them.

“Aye, that’s her,” comes a voice in my ear.