Witchtown by Cory Putman Oakes

Author:Cory Putman Oakes
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

Kellen disappeared quickly, almost the second Maire closed the circle and dismissed us. I wasn’t sure quite what to do or where to go myself, so I followed the group that headed to Odin’s Tavern.

Witchtown’s one and only drinking establishment was all polished wood. The back wall was dominated by a carving of a topless woman with flowing hair, which looked like it had been pried off the bow of a ship.

The man behind the bar was wearing a Viking helmet, and he was so enormous that I dismissed him at first as just another oversize decoration. But when my entrance caused the little bells attached to the door to jingle, the helmet turned in my direction and the horns swung slowly from side to side.

“No minors,” he growled.

“It’s okay, Uncle O, she’s with me.”

Talya was waving at me from a table next to the window.

I glanced back toward the bar. The horns dipped forward slightly, in what I assumed was permission, so I walked over to join her.

“Odin, I presume?” I asked, referring to the formidable bartender.

“My uncle,” Talya confirmed. “Aimee’s dad.”

“You live with them, right?” I had heard that Talya’s parents were not in Witchtown.

“Yeah,” Talya said, playing with the straw in her drink. “Once my parents figured out the witch thing wasn’t a phase, they shipped me off so that I could be with ‘my own kind,’ to use their words.”

“Nice,” I said sarcastically.

A bowl of nuts crashed down onto our table, and I jumped. When I looked up to find Odin standing over me, I jumped a second time.

“What else can I get you?” he rumbled, then gestured to Talya’s drink. “You want the ginger ale too?”

I was about to say yes, since it seemed the polite thing to do, but the smallest of warning headshakes from Talya made me reconsider.

“Um, I think I’ll start with water. Thanks,” I squeaked. Then, because my stomach had woken up at the sight of the nuts, I pointed to the bowl. “Um, are those raw?”

“I sure as hell didn’t cook them. I’ll be right back with your water.”

Good enough. I took a handful.

“Wise choice,” Talya said, making a face at her ginger ale and pushing it away. “He makes it himself. He tries. But it tastes like socks.”

I stifled a laugh as more black-clad funeralgoers streamed into the tavern.

“Did you watch the funeral from here?” I asked Talya.

“Yes. Rituals are a problem for me,” she admitted. When I said nothing, she sighed. “If I concentrate really hard, I can usually prevent myself from saying the things I see out loud. Except in ritual. Being around channeled power just makes me blurt things out.”

“Oh,” I said. “I can see how that would be a problem.”

Odin brought me my water, and I told Talya about finding the angelica. She seemed to believe me, even without evidence. I offered to show her where it was and in return, she promised to lead me to some of her favorite herb-hunting spots around town.

After that, a strange silence fell over us.

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