hadn’t shared with even her sister.
Mary had given her a choice.
That night in the cavern, Mary had pulled her close and whis-
pered of the pain and horror of love. And then she had given
Minnie the spell, the words that would let her live forever so that
Arthur wouldn’t have to go on his dark path alone.
But Minnie didn’t know what to choose. By the time Charles
was gone and Minnie realized she could not live her life know-
ing Arthur would be alone forever, she had no way of finding him.
Arthur had disappeared, and with him the clues to tracking the
Ladon Vitae.
In her heart of hearts, though, Minnie knew she had promised
Arthur something. She would wait for him.
Forever.
And so, on a quiet night, in the solitude of the trees by the
witch’s house she now claimed as her own, Minnie alone stepped
out of the path of time and onto the lonely path of immortality to
wait for Arthur to come home.
Minnie waited. She watched her sister and brother-in-law
grow old and gray, and then watched her nieces and nephews do
the same. She stopped attending funerals, because they became
too many. She became very adept at forging official documents
and new birth certificates, and the town that had always harbored
a small share of magic turned a blind eye to their new witch.
And while she waited, she wrote the stories of her town, the
stories of her childhood, the stories of her long, long years. She
sent the books out into the world along with her hopes that
Arthur would find them and know he wasn’t alone.
She didn’t just write. She read. Minnie couldn’t track the
Ladon Vitae, but she learned enough to know that if someone