sylphs. It is good to see you grown into your power.”
The voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, but she could hear it clearly. And by Rosa’s startled expression, so could she! Giselle got a little thrill down her back.
“What is it you ask of me?” the Aether continued. “I will do what I can for you, but I fear I cannot help you with the evil that dwells behind you. I have no power over her kind.”
“No . . . sir,” Rosa whispered. “But my friend Pieter, the troll to the north of here, does. Could you possibly take a message to him swiftly?”
“Ah! A simple, trivial request. So trivial, I gladly go out of friendship. What shall I tell him?”
“Come as quickly as he can!” Rosa begged.
“I shall carry your scent with me, and leave him a trail to follow. Farewell!”
The scent of ozone vanished. “Is he gone?” Rosa asked. “The last time I encountered something like that . . . well, it was the remnant of a god.”
“Yes,” Giselle told her. Rosa nodded, and they crept back to the bushes, parting them to look at the cottage.
Time crawled. She knew that the aether would probably get to Pieter within moments. How long was it going to take Pieter to get here? She didn’t think the troll was all that fast. And would he understand the urgency? She had no idea how bright he was, but . . .
The door to the cottage opened, and a flood of light came from within, a light too strong to have come from something like candles or an oil lamp. A strange creature emerged from the door, and there was so much light Giselle could see it perfectly clearly. It looked vaguely human . . . but its arms and legs were too long, and too spindly; its torso was too short, and it seemed to have next to no neck, just a hunched-over back with a head jutting from the top of it, a head covered with an unruly shock of straw-like hair. The more Giselle looked at it, the more inhuman it looked, as if everything about it was wrong in some way. It didn’t move right, the joints bent in unnatural places. It made her a little sick to look at, and her skin began to crawl.
It was dressed in black rags, and when it turned sideways for a moment, she saw it had a face that was like the caricature of an evil witch in a child’s book, all nose and chin, with glowing green eyes. It was the eyes that made her feel truly horrid, although she could not have said why. The eyes were the least human thing about it. There was a malevolence there that she could not even begin to measure.
It reached into the cottage and pulled out something. No, it was not a something, it was a someone.
A child. A young girl, who was sniveling and shivering, all pulled in on herself as if she was doing her best to keep away from the creature. It was easy to see her in the light pouring from the doorway, too; she wore the typical smock and apron of a farm child, but both were dirty and tattered. Her hair was coming out of its braids, and she was barefoot. Her face was filthy, and tear-streaked, and had that blank, stunned look that only came with utter terror. She was carrying something in her arms, something bulky, like a bundle.
The Blood Witch shook her. “Go, my pretty, and feed the piggies.” The voice that came from the thing sounded like creaking hinges. “One of them is surely fat enough by now. I’ll follow you and test them, yes I will. I am ready for a feast!”
She shook the girl again, then shoved her forward, toward the far side of the cottage. The girl stumbled and recovered herself before she fell, careful not to drop what she was carrying. Then she shuffled around the side of the cottage with the creature no more than a couple of paces behind.
And that was when the screams and cries began, coming from the opposite side of the cottage. Giselle felt a fresh jolt of fear mixed with nausea. What in the name of all that was holy was going on here?
“Oh blessed Jesus, it’s worse than I thought!” Rosa said. “She’s got an entire pack of children back there, and she plans to cook and eat one right