The Displaced Witch by Stephanie Ayers

Author:Stephanie Ayers
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: witch, wizard, sorcery, magic, coming of age, fantasy
Publisher: Crazy Ink
Published: 2022-07-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

“I know you followed Mr. Hyde. Did it disgust you to see such a vile, evil being at work?” Dr. Jekyll asked as he cleared their plates from the table and carried them to the sink.

Effie thought carefully before she answered.

“It was a delightful treat, actually. Your Mr. Hyde is darker than any creature in Oz, and that’s no small feat. Do you know any of the people he killed?”

Henry’s jaw dropped for a moment, but he recovered himself.

“No. I don’t know anyone in this era but Altoria and now, you. Why?”

Effie frowned. “The last one was another witch.”

Henry’s eyebrows rose. “She must not be a very good one then. You stopped Hyde. Why couldn’t she?” He studied her for a moment. “Why didn’t you stop Mr. Hyde the second time?”

Effie rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Did you really want me to?”

He stared at the floor.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Effie. You’re the only friend I’ve got.”

Effie scoffed. “What about the people you mentioned needing to hide your ‘other side’ from? Aren’t they your friends?”

Effie had no experience with friends. Friendship was a foreign entity she’d never been acquainted with.

Henry’s nose wrinkled. “They are, for better or worse, my associates, my colleagues. And all of them—every last one of them—would sell me to the devil with or without a soul if they thought they would gain a profit from it. Also, they are not in this London. They remain in mine. So no, Effie. I do not have friends.”

Effie looked at him dryly. She’d manage her whole life without friends, and if they were as Henry described, she was better off without them.

“Evil rarely has friends. At least we have that in common. Unlike you, I prefer not to wear a mask. Why should I bother making friends who won’t be there when I need them anyway?”

She stared at the wall behind Henry as memory overtook her.

“You are unwanted!” Effie’s mother said.

She’d tied Effie to a wooden pole in the center of Afar, the village they called home that existed in the farthest western region beyond the boundaries of Oz.

“Unwanted! Unwanted! Unwanted!” chanted the growing crowd of people surrounding them.

“Witch! Witch! Witch!” another group chanted. “Look at her green skin!”

“Unwanted witch!” a woman screamed and threw a pebble at Effie.

The first sting of pain tore through Effie’s cheek as the pebble slammed into it.

“Witch! Witch!” the people sang as more hurled rocks her way.

Some stones fell short of their target while others pinged off her skin, leaving bloody marks and bruises behind. Each hit stung worse than the one before until her arms and legs bled worse than her face did.

The village priest took pity on Effie. He quieted the bystanders and loosened her bonds.

“Run, Effie. Run like you’ve never run before, and don’t come back,” he said.

“Run, Effie, run,” she repeated, one hand covering her cheek.

“What?” Henry asked.

Her memory exploded with a pop. She shook her head to clear it.

“Nothing. Just a memory.”

“Based on your words just now, I’d say it wasn’t a very good one.

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