7 Chapter 7: A Warm Bed (1/2)

SALEM: What could a witch want from me?

Usually a witch wanted me dead and I wanted her head. So there was always a conflict of interest.

”What do you want?” I asked.

She pointed at the corn.

”Give me some of that.”

I raised an eyebrow. In my experience, witches didn't need to eat. Or at least they didn't need to eat as often as we humans. Something to do with their magic. The powers in their blood was almost like sustenance in itself, allowing a witch to forgo food for a couple of weeks if need be.

Which is why every witch hunter was told to finish off a witch quickly. If the chase lasted for days, the advantage would quickly turn towards the witch. And that was deadly.

I told her this and went back to eating. No food for her.

Elina's eyes smiled. I sensed that she was thinking of something diabolical. I said nothing.

She said, ”And a man does not need a woman to warm his bed and yet he craves for it.”

Silence.

She said, ”You don't deny it?”

I said nothing.

Elina snickered.

Maybe I should've gagged her.

She raised her shackled wrists. ”My magic is sealed off, remember? And without magic, I'm as frail as a human. So you have two options: you can undo these shackles or you can give me some of that corn.”

Hmmm, clever witch. Maybe she was trying to appear friendly enough to make me trust her. Maybe she thought this was enough to force a mistake out of me.

I said, ”You really do take me for a fool, don't you?”

”I really do take you for a fool.” Her eyes narrowed. The corners crinkled. The fire danced in her eyes.

She added, ”After all, compared to me, you are just a boy.”