they were kids again and had just finished burying Freya's wretched zombie gerbil in the backyard. The ground had kept shaking for an endless amount of time, it seemed. Ingrid had found one of Joanna's old books, the ones they weren't supposed to touch, which their mother had hidden away when the restriction was passed, and had finally hit upon the right incantation to stop Freya's wayward spell.
"Hmmm . . ." Joanna said, looking from one to the other with skepticism. "Why do I have a feeling no one ever tells me anything around here?"
Chapter six
A Knot in Her Belly
Ingrid was thinking of her sister's newfound zeal when she arrived at work that morning. She realized that she had never seen Freya so happy, not in a long time. Not just happy, there was something else. Freya looked more vibrant somehow, she was more present. Living without magic had caused them to fade a little; without even noticing, they had become as drab and gray as the mundane world around them. Ingrid latched her bicycle by the front gate and let herself into the dark library. Passing by Tabitha's empty desk, she felt another prick of frustration. For years Ingrid had kept silent, had let science and medicine do their work, but now she felt a reckless courage stirring in her soul. She couldn't stand to see her friend in so much pain anymore. So much unnecessary pain.
Ingrid looked around fearfully. What was she thinking? She wasn't her sister, daring and courageous. Ingrid remembered all too well how she had been left to starve in that cell, the jeers from the mob, how terribly frightened she had been, alone and hated. If she did this, she would be breaking the agreement that allowed her to remain in this world.
But what did Freya say that morning? I'm sick of living with my hands tied behind my back. Well, so was Ingrid. She had had it with being useless and insignificant.
When Tabitha arrived for work Ingrid took her aside. "Tab? Can I have a sec?" She led Tabitha to the back office, where they stored the archival material. "You have to trust me, okay?" she said, as she switched off the lights. The room was bathed in a greenish darkness that came from the window film.
"What's going on?" Tabitha asked a bit nervously. "What's gotten into you, Ingrid? You're like . . . possessed."
"Just stand there," Ingrid instructed. She knelt on the floor and began to draw a pentagram around the perimeter of Tabitha's feet. The white chalk outline glowed in the dark room.
"Is that a - ?"
"Shush!" Ingrid ordered, removing a white candle from her pocket and placing it in the center of the five-pointed shape she had made. She lit the candle and mumbled a few words. Turning to Tabitha, she said, "You trust me, don't you? I'm trying to help you." They were colleagues but friends as well, and Ingrid hoped Tabitha would trust their friendship enough to allow her to do this. She continued to work in a serene and thoughtful manner, but her heart was leaping in her chest. She was doing it - she was practicing witchcraft again. Magic. Freya was right, it was as if something that had been deeply buried in her soul was coming alive again, as if she just discovered she could breathe underwater all along. Ingrid felt dizzy and giddy. She hadn't done anything like this in . . . longer than she could remember. She waited for a thunderbolt to strike. But there was nothing.
With the witch sight from the pentagram she took a good long look at her friend, until the junior librarian squirmed under the penetrating gaze. The pentagram revealed what Ingrid had always suspected. There was something blocking Tabitha's energy, a darkness in the core, a silver-colored mass, tight and constricted, knotted, like a fist or a tumor. No wonder she couldn't get pregnant. Ingrid had seen them before, but nothing quite this deadly. She placed a hand on Tabitha's belly and yanked it out, almost falling backward in her attempt. But she got it out, all right. The malignancy dissipated as soon as it had been removed from a physical host.
Tabitha just stared at her as if Ingrid had gone insane. She hadn't felt a thing; it looked as if Ingrid was just waving her hands about and babbling. "Are we done now?"
"Not quite," Ingrid said. Removing it was only the first step. She flicked the