Free Hilda the wicked witch by Paul Kater Page B

idea
that her actions made William more and more interested in her. The
weird feeling was by now enveloping him, giving him the sensation
that he was in the middle of a docile thundercloud.
    "Right. Let's go then and wrap this beauty up."
He got to his feet, the large book in his hand and gestured to the
door, letting Hilda go first and making sure he did not touch her
again.
    They left the coffeehouse, and as they were
crossing the street to get to the truck, the witch turned to
William. "You can call me... Hilda." She cringed on the inside. For
a witch, giving someone your name meant giving them control over
you.
    "Nice to meet you, Hilda. Just call me
William."
    They walked to the house, after the book was
nicely wrapped, and the sale was done very quickly. Then they
returned to the truck.
    "Now, can you tell me what you think I have that
you need?" William leaned against the car, smiling at the woman and
keeping a safe distance, his hands in his pockets.
    Hilda looked at him for a while. Then, in
silence, she took the papers with the poems from her
shoulderbag.
    William looked at the paper and the writing, and
then whistled. "Amazing. That looks ancient. And the writing... did
you do that?"
    "Yes. You could say that. It was my quill
anyway," she said, and then looked at the poems. "You must have a
book of tales, a book of dreams. A special one."
    William looked at her in wonder. "May I see
that?" He held out his hand and waited. Reluctantly Hilda handed
him the paper with the first poem.
    As he touched it, William felt a flow of power
shoot through his arm. He shivered, then it was gone.
    He read the poem carefully. "A most
extraordinary poem, Hilda. What does it mean?"
    She took a deep breath. "It means what it says.
You are the man William Conneley and you have something. In your
cart. It can help me to return home."
    "A book of tales, a book of dreams," he nodded.
"Now, don't tell me-" A glint of revelation swam over his face.
    Hilda raised her eyesbrows again, not knowing
what she should not tell this man who was, for now, her sole hope
in this turmoil. She watched how he took a piece of metal from his
pocket, bracing herself for anything. It proved quite a strain, as
she was barely hanging on to her wits by now. Her return could be
so close and yet it was all so uncertain.
    William hesitated for a moment. "For some
reason," he said, "I have been waiting for you."
    "Waiting for me?" This surprised her. She was
used to people waiting for her, witches from her level did not wait
for people. But in this strange world, where everything was turned
upside down and inside out, this commonplace fact felt... wrong,
almost. "You don't even know me."
    William nodded. "True. And still..." He raised
his hand, put the key in the lock and opened the backdoor of the
truck. "I bought a book from Bert. A few days ago," he said. "I
don't know why I had to have it. I just had to. People wanted to
buy it from me, for much more than what I paid for it, but, and you
may laugh at me now, the book did not want me to sell it. It did
not allow me to. As if it was trying to tell me that I should save
it for someone. Perhaps for you."
    Hilda looked at the man. This was the first
person who started to make some kind of sense to her since she had
arrived here. She nodded. "Some books are like that. Special
books." Her heart pounded in her chest, the rush of anticipating
what might come was almost making her nauseous.
    William climbed into the back and opened the
cover of the storage space where the crate of books was that he had
gotten from Bert. On top was the special book, still wrapped in the
heavy linen. "Hilda... come in here. Please?"
    The witch climbed into the truck also and sat on
the small bench, staring at the package he had in his hands. It
seemed to scream at her. She suppressed the urge to yank it from
his hands. The book was so close, it beckoned her to take it. Read
it. Use it.
    "Could this be it?" William unwrapped the book
and