The Binding (2 page)

"That's what they always say!" someone yelled from the row ahead of me, and the crowd's muttering grew louder again. My husband raised his hand for silence.

"I didn't discover these abilities until I was old enough to know not to use them," Serena continued. "But yes, there have been times when I thought I had to do it to help someone, to save a life or prevent destruction. There is nothing in me that you should fear, only a gift that I was born with. A curse, really. I am and will remain in possession of my own soul until I die, at which time it will be for God to decide what becomes of me." Her mouth twitched in a half-smile, but her eyes filled with tears. "I suppose I'll find out soon enough."

She'd confessed to the deeds, if not the cause of her power, and it was enough. They dragged her out of the room, though I think she would have preferred to walk. She looked into my eyes as she passed by, and I felt that familiar tingle. For a moment, it was like holding my lost baby again.

I was still shaking long after she'd left the room.

I didn't attend the execution, which they carried out an hour after my husband gave his verdict. I went home to rest and to think. She had to be lying, but . . . what if she wasn't? What if all the people accused of crimes like hers really were born with their power?

I thought about the energy I’d felt on her, and about my baby. Perhaps it wasn’t magic attacking her, but magic
in
her. What if someone knew that, and didn't want my daughter to grow up to defend herself?

I ran to the washing room and threw up into the basin, then sat on the floor and sobbed until my sister and our husbands returned.

3
.

In the night that followed, my churning thoughts barely allowed me to sleep. When they did, I dreamed that monstrous hands ripped my unborn baby from my body, over and over, until I woke sweating and screaming. To keep myself sane, I turned my thoughts toward making a plan to save my child. There was nothing I could do for this baby on my own, save for running away with it and leaving the rest of my family behind. Impossible. There had to be another way.

The next day I took time off work and went with the children to the library. They played in the corner while I searched through dusty shelves I’d never thought to visit before. I stayed away from restricted areas that would have aroused suspicion if I’d visited them, but I found a few old news items that solidified the ideas I’d had during the night.

I needed a Woods-witch.

Contacting her would be difficult. She lived outside of society, in fear of being caught, bartering services for food, goods, and whatever coins came her way. I'd heard of her when I was a child, whispers in the schoolyard from girls who claimed their older sisters had visited her to be rid of a skin condition, or to have something done to them to help them become pregnant more quickly. These things were forbidden, of course. We were never to have anything to do with magic lest we be tainted by it and bring a curse on our family. But there are times when we have to take these risks, to make these sacrifices. I prayed that God would forgive me, and I kept my ears open.

In the meantime, life went on as it always had. Now certain that I was with child again, I gave up the more dangerous aspects of work at the shop. My assistant handled the crafting, and I the paperwork. Shanna had a nose for secrets. I should have known she wouldn’t go long without asking.

“Should we expect big news soon?” she asked one day, excitement and a touch of envy in her voice.

I laughed to cover my nerves. “Just trying for now, but I’m taking precautions early.” Thank God my nausea was slight enough that I could hide it. She’d never have missed that, and I wasn’t ready to share yet.

Later that afternoon, Floretta James stopped in. The elderly woman had been my mentor once, and I’d inherited the shop from her. I considered her a friend, and trusted her to keep a secret. I pulled her aside, out of Shanna’s hearing.

“I need to ask you about the Woods-witch,” I said. “About how to find her.” There was no point easing into it with Floretta. She’d never put up with polite nonsense.

She frowned, deepening the hard lines that time had carved into her forehead. “You don’t want anything to do with that.”

“I’m curious, that’s all. I have a situation that—”

Floretta held one hand up to stop me. “I don’t want to know. We’re not having this conversation.” Her expression softened. “But I’ll tell you this. I once knew a young woman who needed such a person’s help. She went to the woods up north of town, toward the lake. Wandered for days. See, you don’t find the Witch. She finds you, if you need her. That is, if she lives. I haven’t heard of her in some time.”

“Thank you.”

Floretta nodded and adjusted her grip on her cane. “If it’s all the same to you, I might skip our tea today. I feel a need to lie down.”

It wasn’t much, but I had enough information to set my plan in motion.

I didn’t want to do this. But hard as I searched, as much as I hoped and pleaded for a different answer, there was no other way.

When I finally made the announcement to a few close friends, I had no trouble convincing them that I wasn't as far along in my pregnancy as I truly was. I carried small, but friends still joked about the possibility that I was carrying twins when my belly seemed larger than it should have been. I laughed along with them, saying I could only hope so. I didn't tell my husband when I felt the baby move for the first time, and I openly made plans for an early-spring baby, knowing that it would in fact arrive in the dead of winter.

The months passed, and my body told me that the time was near.

Though it was an unusual request, no one questioned it too much when I said that I wanted to go away for a few weeks to be alone. I said it was a time for spiritual reflection, a time to enjoy this life inside of me, just in case things turned out badly again. My sister agreed to take my children while I was gone, and my husband helped me pack, though I didn't let him see everything I took with me.

On the morning of my departure, I asked my husband to ready our new horse, a young gelding who would carry me safely. I cried when I said goodbye to the children, and silently prayed that I would see them again. I hesitated, wondering why I was taking such a risk for a new child when I had three who needed me. Then the baby turned, and I remembered. This child deserved a chance to live.

I hadn’t known that I needed to fight for my last one. I’d be damned if I was going to make the same mistake again.

My already aching joints complained with every step the horse took. Still, we left town and carried on through the crisp winter landscape, and stopped for a bite to eat beside a frozen pond before carrying on toward our destination. I hoped we wouldn’t wander for days looking for the Woods-witch. I wasn’t sure I had that much time to spare.

And with that thought, she appeared. Not in a puff of smoke, as I’d have imagined a witch making an entrance, but with the sound of soft footsteps crunching over snow.

She didn’t look the way I’d imagined, either. She was old enough, and walked with a limp that seemed appropriate. But I had expected a long, crooked nose and a face covered in warts, ragged black clothing and perhaps a cobweb on her hat. Instead, she seemed like any other elderly woman—or she would have if I could have ignored the energy that came off her. The baby felt it, too. It kicked and squirmed like it never had before, until I thought it would fight its way out right there on the path.

There was something sinister in the woman's eyes that I disliked, but she spoke kindly.

"What brings you to Elisha, my child?" she asked, her voice thick and smooth like honey.

“I—it's my baby, ma'am," I stammered, and she nodded. I slid down from the horse and she placed her hands on my swollen belly. I told her what had happened to my last child, and she sighed.

"I cannot say how that child died," she said. "I can tell you that the same fate will await this baby if she’s like the last one, and I suspect that she is."

My heart skipped. "She?"

The old woman smiled. "She. And as beautiful and healthy as your last, if all goes well."

“Do you know that by magic?” I tried to sound like it didn’t matter, but the thought of her touching me with it brought bile up in the back of my throat.

“No, dear. I deal in potions, not inner sight. I’m no Sorceress. But I’ve experienced magic, and I feel it within you. As to her feminine qualities, I just get a feeling sometimes.” She paused for a moment, and watched me through narrowed eyes. "I would take the child from you. There is much I could teach one who is born with magic. I would keep her safe."

I thought of my daughter living with no human contact save for this woman, and fought back a shudder. "I'm sure you would, ma'am," I said, as respectfully as I could, "but if there's any way I could keep my child, any way you could make her—“ I almost said
normal
, but didn’t wish to offend. Perhaps this woman wasn’t like the girl at the trial, but she dealt in magic nonetheless. "That is, if you could make her magic unnoticeable, I would be grateful."

Elisha sighed again and removed her hand from my belly. "There is a way, but it's not without its costs."

I pulled my purse from beneath my coat, and she laughed.

"I'm glad you came prepared, child, but I speak of greater costs. I can perform a ritual that will leave the child's magic bound within her, never to be released. She will seem normal. You need never even tell her."

"That's wonderful, can you—“

"I'm not finished.” Her voice grew deeper. “You may regret the decision. The first years may be difficult, as the child’s magic grows within her. You will have to live with this secret, with the shame of having this child in your home, for the rest of your life. There will be consequences. And this procedure is irrevocable."

"But she will live."

"If you're careful to keep her secret during those early years, and never let on what she is, yes. Hiding it won’t save her or you if anyone finds out what you did."

I only hesitated for a moment before I handed her my money and told her where she could find us when the time came. "I don't know exactly when, though."

"I'll know," she said, the purse disappearing into her sleeve. "I get a feeling. Expect me on the seventh day after the birth, at sunset."

4
.

The baby came during the night after my third day at the cabin. I'd thought I was prepared to do it on my own, but a shot of terror nearly paralyzed me as the first hard contraction gripped my belly. I had the knowledge I needed, but suddenly I found that I lacked the courage. I pleaded with the baby to stay inside for a few more days, just until I could get home. She didn't listen. She seemed as eager to be born as I was to keep her in.

The labor was short, and the birth was as easy as the last had been, but that meant precious little when I was alone, in pain, and afraid. I'd built the fire up high in the stone hearth, but the wind howling outside the windows gave me shivers even as I crouched on an old blanket, sweating. Snow piled up outside the log cabin. The wind's shrieks drowned out my cries, and then those of my new baby.

Everything faded when I saw her. The fear disappeared. The vague knowledge I had of what was in store for her retreated to a place far back in my mind, and I fell asleep curled up in bed with my daughter at my breast. The moment wasn't perfect, but I tried to remember every detail so that I would have something to hold on to if everything went wrong.

And now, here we are. It has been a full seven days since the storm. Warm winds from the south have melted the snow enough that the Woods-witch should have little trouble reaching us. It was foolish to hand my money over to a stranger who earns her living on the farthest edge of society, but I know in my heart that she will come.

I hoped at first that the curse had missed this one, as I felt no strangeness in her in the days after her birth. But now, I feel it. The soft hum has begun, setting my teeth on edge, sending a silent scream through the depths of my soul.

I try to comfort myself with the thought that I’ve done the right thing, that coming here was necessary, that she will be safe. It doesn’t help. I still want to run from whatever is coming for us.

The baby cries, and I pick her up from the nest I've made for her on the big four-poster bed and carry her to the living area. She's wet again, and hungry. I change her, and we've just settled in for feeding when a knock sounds at the door.

My heart jumps, then trembles in my chest as the door swings open. The Woods-witch enters, carrying several canvas bags and reed baskets. She nods a greeting and begins setting things out on the kitchen table. I can't see what she's doing. The baby begins to cry again, and refuses to eat.

“It is as I predicted?” she asks.

I force myself to speak around the lump in my throat. “It is. A girl, and healthy. And I feel it in her already.”

She nods. “I sense it from here. It’s good that you found me early. This one will have strong magic, and not easy to contain.”

Elisha bustles about the kitchen area, boiling water and making tea that she offers to me. I refuse.

“It’s not magic, my child. Just something to calm a mother’s nerves.”

I accept the tea with a muted, “Thank you,” and she takes the crying baby.

"There, there, little love,” she coos. “It will all be over soon, I promise." The old woman looks up at me, and the expression on her face is at once accusatory and compassionate. It should be impossible, but it is so. "This won't be pleasant, dear one, but we all do what we have to do, don't we?" She speaks to the baby, but she's still looking at me. Then she takes the baby to the table and undresses her.

Elisha smiles. "Such perfection." She lets the baby grasp her finger for a moment, then turns back to me. "Are you certain this is what you want? Once we begin, there's no stopping. If there's any part of you that's willing to let her become what she was born to be, listen to it now."