Touch of Evil: A Weird Girls Novel (Weird Girls Touch Book 1) by Cecy Robson

Author:Cecy Robson [Robson, Cecy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cecy Robson, LLC
Published: 2020-10-12T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Emme

A small section of cave dissolves. It’s unlike when Bren pressed his weight and said, “Abre.” The walls don’t crawl away and create a larger opening. This is different. A fissure creates in the structure and parts like a heavy curtain, allowing two women hooded in worn gray cloaks through. As soon as they pass, the opening closes behind them.

The first witch is petite, like me, only malnourished. I can tell by the way the cloak clings to her small, hunched frame. Her hands curl deep within the sleeves as if she’s cold. The second witch follows closely, shuffling her feet. She should lead, I think. She’s taller and while as underfed as the first, she’s physically more imposing.

Like Gerald, I already know I can fight them alone. They’re neither formidable nor healthy. They’re sick. My healing touch senses their worsening states as they approach. I’m uncertain what’s happened exactly but their bodies are turning against them. I can feel it.

With their hoods as long as they are, their faces are obscured and their vision limited. But when I do catch my first glance, I wish I hadn’t.

Long black whiskers poke out on either side of a little pink nose encased in white and copper fur. She pauses almost in front of me and whips back her hood.

“You’re alive,” she squeaks. And I do mean “squeaks.”

“Ah,” I answer.

Gerald described her as “mousey.” He should have said she is actually a mouse.

The fur around her eyes and nose are white, the rest of her, including her fuzzy ears are copper. And her hands? Those same hands I thought she huddled deep in her sleeves because she was cold. They’re not hands. They’re shriveled paws.

She would be cute. If she wasn’t so creepy!

I should lift her and her friend into the air. I should smash both of them against the rock wall and quickly kill them. Taran would.

But I just can’t.

She turns to her friend. “What are we going to do, Farrah?” she asks. “I can’t kill her, and I won’t hurt her.”

Farrah whips back her hood. “You’re asking me, Merche? I didn’t sign up for any of this.”

Not to be mean, but I can honestly say Merche is the better looking of the two. Where Merche is a mouse (possibly a guinea pig?), Farrah is a fish!

The rest of Farrah’s body is human and possibly naked under that cloak. Her head is that of a blowfish. She doesn’t have fins, and honestly, that’s the only blessing. Large bulging eyes blink back at me and pulsating gills make up her ears. Her head inflates and deflates as her extra-large, fish lips, take in copious puffs of air.

The fact that they don’t attack and are hesitant to hurt me keeps me in place. “What do you want from me?” I ask. “And what did you do with Bren?”

They jolt, surprised it seems that I can actually speak.

“The wolf you were with?” Merche asks. “He’s okay. Well, no. He’s very angry.”

When Farrah rolls her fish eyes, it darn near tops the list of disturbing things I’ve seen tonight.

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