Free The Tragedy of Knowledge by Rachael Wade

getting anywhere, it seemed, and it felt like we’d been rowing for hours. Gavin and I didn’t speak, and glided along in silence while I flipped open the Book of the Ancients every few minutes, waiting for it to miraculously light up again or … something.
    “Come on, damn it.” I slammed it shut for the thousandth time, looking out into the creepy fog that covered us like a quilt. I thought of pulling my cell from my backpack to check the time, but decided against it when I figured I’d get no reception. It probably wouldn’t even turn on. I couldn’t remember the last time I charged it, and found myself barely caring. It was about that time—time to feed.
    “Getting hungry?” Gavin asked.
    “Did you just … read my thoughts?”
    “ Haha , no, love. I can’t read your thoughts until you develop the ability to read our coven’s, and only if you let me break through their barrier so I can tune in. But it’s got to be getting close to midnight, because I’m starved, too. And your eyes are going gray.”
    Now that he’d mentioned food, I wanted more than food; I wanted to hunt. Even though we didn’t technically hunt and kill, the desire was still there. I could feel my eyes shift hard and black at the thought of sinking my fangs into warm blood. Warm skin. Soft flesh …
    Quivering, I nodded. “Yeah, but it can wait.”
    “I think it might have to. Had I known we’d be gone this long, I would have brought something.”
    “We don’t even know where we are. I don’t recognize a damn thing. If this book doesn’t light up like a Christmas tree again soon, I say we ditch this and head home.”
    He let out a soft chuckle. “That’s just the hunger talking. You nearly took me out back there, just to get me in this boat. We’re going to keep at it until we find what we’re looking for.”
    The witches, the magic, my freaky new sixth sense—something—must’ve heard Gavin’s words, because the fog began to thin out behind him, revealing the tiny wood shack from my vision, lit aglow by a single lantern in the grime-covered front window.
    “There! Behind you.” Excited, I shifted my body and stood, nearly tipping us.
    “Easy, love,” he worked to steady us. “Okay, let’s get this show on the road.” Veering off toward the patch of solid ground, he ran the edge of the rowboat aground and helped me out.
    With the help of only our flashlights and the dim lantern light glowing from the shack’s window, we approached the filthy, weathered door and knocked. Familiar blue cobalt glass hung from the trees, and the same brick dust from Vivienne’s old shop lined the windowsill and doorway. Knowing none of it would have any effect on us because we were frozen souls, I decided to speak up and inform whoever was inside of our intentions, so we didn’t appear a threat.
    “Hello?” I called out, waiting before I knocked again. “We don’t mean to bother you, but we really need your help. My name’s Camille and I’ve—”
    “Seen this in one of your visions?” The shaky, tired voice greeted me as the door opened a crack. A short elderly woman with brittle white hair appeared, her face so wrinkled it made it hard to see where her eyelids began and ended. Her thin, dry lips were set in a grim, straight line, and her glassy eyes found mine as she looked up at me, lighting the space between us with the candle in her hand. Shrouded in a navy blue dress that looked like a potato sack, the woman was adorned in jewelry made of the earth. Her mouth slightly worked, as if she was chewing nonstop on straw. Once she opened her mouth to speak again and I saw her teeth, I thought maybe it was tobacco she’d been chewing.
    “I said, you seen this here place in your visions?”
    “Oh, yes, ma’am. You … know about them?”
    “ Yess , yesss , come in, come in.”
    She opened the door wider and led Gavin and me inside, without so much as a word about us being frozen souls. The thought comforted me. It must