Hail to the Queen (Witch For Hire 2)

“And when was the last time that happened?”

“The years all blur after so long.”

I lower the cloak and push up the sleeve of my dress. Waiting won’t change the outcome. My hand trembles as I sink it into the icy deeps. The cold sinks bone deep. My teeth chatter. The sprites circle my hand. Their hair brushes against my skin. Like synchronized swimmers, their tiny legs work in tandem, keeping them moving in a hypnotic display of graceful shapes and formations. My fingers brush the key. They tighten their ranks. My throat dries out. Are they going to attack?

I pick up the key, ready to fend off an attack. Their tiny hands brush up against my skin as they wrap their bodies around me. I lift my arm out carefully. I clear the water, uncertain if a battle with them will anger Sebile. The minute they feel the air, the sprites let go. Their wings are iridescent, glowing in the moonlight. They move in to caress my face as they pull my hair gently. I don’t understand the significance, but it’s a far sight better than the tiny teeth ripping into my flesh as I’d imagined they might.

“They’re giving you their blessing and thanking you for their freedom. They’re bound to protect the key, but while it’s in use, they can do as they please.”

“Thank

you,” I whisper. I smile as they flit away, skimming the top of the water while they disappear from view.

“You’ve passed the first test. Come.”

Clutching the key like a talisman, I trail behind her over the bridge. The trees grow larger and flesh out. A trail turns to the right. The light lessens as the trees grow together above us. My stomach knots. Glowing yellow eyes watch us from deeper in the forest. I imagine the hungry beasts that possess those luminous gazes. Branches rustle. My instincts kick in, adrenaline pumping. I’m in fight or flight. There are things stalking us. Plenty of lore describes the being with teeth, claws, and ill intentions among the Unseelie.

I glance over my shoulder and catch wispy white apparitions trailing behind us. Spindly fingers appear on the edge of the walkway. Goblins? I’m grateful when we enter a clearing. Three tall oak trees reach for the evening sky. Their branches like fingers spread as they worship its majesty. In the center of each thick trunk are doors. I study the key. It gives no indication which door it will unlock. The door in the middle is made of pale wood, lovingly sculpted into a giant owl. Its eyes are carved deep and seem to follow you. A navy-blue door, which has a rounded top with an embossed pattern of swirls, is at the right. On the far left is an ornate black door with a gold frame with an odd cutout design.

“What am I supposed to do?” I ask.

“Each door leads somewhere. But only one will take you to the hall of mirrors.”

“What keeps me from opening every door?”

“You may only use the key once.” She smirks. It felt too straightforward. I want to ask, ‘Where’s the catch?’

“May I touch the doors?”

She nods. “You may. Take as long as you like to make your decision.” There’s no kindness in her words, only a blatant arrogance, and mockery. Her high-handed attitude presses my buttons. I move to the black door, close my eyes, and place my hand on its cool surface, opening all of my senses. Dread forms in the pit of my stomach. Fear, anger, and darkness fill me until I’m ready to explode. Images of curved nails, and bared teeth dripping with bloody saliva, fill my head. There’s nothing but pain and suffering behind the pretty packaging of that door. I snatch my hand back, shaken by all I’ve experienced. My body trembles. I wrap my arms around my waist. “What is that place?”

“The forgotten place.” She frowns. “Most are fooled by its exterior.”

“You shouldn’t mistake witches with humans.” I smile. Her lips press together in a thin line. I move on to the owl. I brush it tentatively with my fingertips. Nothing. I press my palm flush against the wood. It’s warm to the touch. Feelings of well-being and joy wash over me. I want to experience more of what the entrance is offering. I caress the notches in the wood and lift the key. A shrill cry snatches me from my trance. I stumble back. Any door that begs to be opened this way shouldn’t be.

“Not this one.”

“Are you sure?” Sebile purrs.

More than ever. “Positive.” I walk over and touch the final door. It’s a breath of fresh air. Cool like a refreshing dip in a hot day, it eases my apprehension. “This is the one.”

“Use the key if you dare.”

I place the key in the lock and turn. The door swings open. High arched, brick ceilings curve with the majestic architecture of the medieval time period. Mirrors of every shape, size, and varnish are attached to the walls.

“It appears you’re determined to live up to the hype, Louella Esçhete.”

“We all want the same thing, don’t we? Neutralization of a threatening force?”

“Hmm. This time.” She waves a hand. “After you.”

Ignoring her unsettling games, I step inside. Mixed vibrations clash. My stomach swirls in the vortex I swear has been opened up inside of this space. I slowly rotate as I struggle to get my bearings.

“Why does it feel like this?”

“Every mirror is a portal to another realm. When you put them all in one space, the energy can be chaotic.”

My jaw drops. It adds an entirely new meaning to the phrase ‘Into the looking glass’. Perhaps Alice in Wonderland wasn’t a fictional work after all.