Free The Fire Chronicle by John Stephens Page A

bought glamours. A glamour, they told her, was a potion that let you change your appearance, and many of the more eye-stopping magical folk used them when they went among normal humans. As Kate and the boys passed by, a tall, thin man with green, scaly skin like a fish downed the contents of a clear glass vial and was instantly transformed into a short, pudgy man with brown hair. And there was a stall that was stacked high with wooden boxes and had a sign declaring THINGS THAT BITE . When they’d passed the stall for the third time without having doubled back, the boys told her that it was a trick some vendors used, making their stalls appear again and again. And there were tents where men and women in dark cloaks who had strange markings on their faces and hands were huddled andmuttering over boiling black cauldrons that smelled of dead fish, burning hair, and sickness. Kate kept well clear of these.
    As they’d walked, the street had veered and become even darker and narrower; Beetles now plucked at her sleeve.
    “We should go back.”
    “Why? There’s more—”
    “Here on out is Imp territory. It ain’t safe.”
    “Who’re the Imps?” Kate asked.
    “The Imps is the Imps. The gang what controls this part a’ the Bowery. They only been here a few months, but they’re bad, real bad.”
    “Real, real bad,” said Jake.
    “We should go back and find Rafe.”
    “Yeah, no foolin’ anymore; Rafe’s gonna want to talk to you.”
    Kate didn’t respond. A plan had begun forming in her mind. Couldn’t any wizard or witch send her through time? Maybe she didn’t need Dr. Pym. Maybe she didn’t have to go all the way to Cambridge Falls. Her eyes fell on a woman in a dark green shawl who sat before a covered booth. She had brown hair that was streaked with gray, and there was a softness in her eyes that appealed to Kate. She pulled free of the boys and walked over.
    “Excuse me?”
    The woman looked up. “Yes?”
    “I’m sorry,” Kate said haltingly. “… Are you … a witch?”
    “I am. Do you need help?”
    “Yes. Please.”
    “Well, come in. Let me see what I can do.”
    The woman stood and opened the canvas flap. Kate hesitated, wondering if she was being rash. But the thought was fleeting. Cambridge Falls was a long and difficult journey, and this woman was right here.
    The woman smiled, as if guessing Kate’s thoughts.
    “I promise, child, I don’t bite.”
    Nodding, Kate stepped into the stall. She glanced back and saw Jake and Beetles gesturing for her to come away. Then the witch dropped the flap and shut them out.
    “First things first, you want tea. You look half frozen. Have a seat; there’s a chair behind you.”
    To Kate’s surprise, the inside of the booth was warm and cozy. Three or four overlapping rugs shielded them from the cobblestones. A squat black stove, its pipe snaking up through the roof, heated the stall nicely. There was another armchair opposite the one Kate occupied, and beside that, a wooden cabinet from which the woman was taking a small earthenware jar. She opened the jar, extracted a handful of green-black leaves, and stuffed them into a pot that was bubbling on the stove. The smell of peppermint filled the air.
    “Lovely,” the woman said. “Always reminds me of Christmas.”
    “I don’t have any money,” Kate said. “I don’t know how I’ll pay you—”
    The woman gave a dismissive wave. “Worry about that later. What seems to be the problem? Is it a boy? I’m quite famous for my love potions.”
    “No, it’s not a boy.”
    “Trouble with your parents? You wish they’d be more understanding? Move your feet closer to the stove.”
    Kate obeyed; her toes had begun to thaw, and they ached as the feeling returned.
    “It’s … not my parents.”
    “Perhaps a beauty charm. Though I don’t think you could be much prettier.” She handed Kate a steaming mug of tea. “Drink up now.”
    “I need to go to the future.”
    The woman stopped and