TTW: Eight The Reveal (Patreon)

Thomas paced anxiously in the living room, gnawing at his knuckle. He knew he shouldn't have left her down there, knew he should have stayed by her side. Then he heard someone screaming in raw, horrid, grating tones, a screech.

One of the witches, he forgot which one, came up. "You can come see her now."

Thomas bounded down the stairs and past the witches who had gathered. In the center stood another of the witches. Why was she naked? And he looked around for Lydia.

"Where is she?" Thomas said, looking around.

The one in the center, the naked one, approached him unsteadily. She was smaller than the rest, hunched, her hair a ragged gray mess that flowed down over her bony shoulders.

"Thomas?" she said in a ragged voice, and he could see she had no teeth. She had a wart beside her nose and eyes that stared at him, rheumy and grey.

She reached up and tugged his beard just like Lydia had done a thousand times.

"Lydia?" he said in horror.

She nodded and opened her arms, saying something in French.

"Tu ne me reconnais pas, crétin?"

"What… what did she say?"

"She says 'Don't you recognize me, cretin?'" Agatha said, smiling. "It is Lydia, or was Lydia. She has been reborn as Esmerelda Devereaux."

"But she's… I mean… she's…"

"Yes, unfortunately, the price we pay for wielding extraordinary magics that bind reality together. We all appear to be perpetually in our elderhood."

He helped her up the stairs, one by one, and someone finally found her a light blanket she draped over herself.

"We shall come collect her in the morning," Agatha said. "A day at the salon, and she'll appear much better."

He nodded as the witches all filed out. He closed the door, and turned to… his wife.

Was she still really his wife?

"How do you feel?"

"Une vieille femme."

Thomas nodded, not sure what she was saying.

She motioned with her arm, indicating they should go upstairs.

She threaded her arm with his, and they slowly made their way to their room.

Esmerelda peered at herself in the mirror, snaking a hand through her hair.

Thomas practically towered over her now. She barely reached the middle of his chest.

She opened her mouth, swirling her tongue around the toothless gap. She said something again in French, and Thomas shrugged.

She tugged at his arm and pointed at the bed. It was late.

Disrobing, they slipped beneath the sheets. Thomas was afraid he might hurt her, considering how frail she looked.

She looked up at him. Her hair was matted and slid all over the bed. "Ugly," she pointed at her face.

Thomas shook his head. "Beautiful."

Lydia…Esmerelda shook her head, and turned away from him, hiding her face in her hands. He heard her soft sobs, and her fragile shoulders shook.

"Hey, none of that now."

He enfolded her in his arms. "Damn, I wish you could understand me."

She spooned back into him, and he took his hands, and pointed at her. "You, me…" he criss-crossed his fingers together enmeshed. "Forever."

She turned toward him. It broke his heart to see her ruined face. It wasn't like she had aged, Lydia had aged. This was someone different, Esmerelda. She looked like she was a hundred years old. He stroked her forehead, at all the wrinkles there. She looked up at him, and they touched foreheads together like they had done a hundred times before.

He kissed her, and she kissed him back, briefly, but then she broke the kiss. It was obvious she was still too self-conscious.

She gave him a smile. It wasn't Lydia's smile, but it would suffice. Then she closed her eyes, and fell asleep.

Thomas lay staring at her, watching her sleep, hearing her snores. Those were new. He kept telling himself, this was her choice, she wanted to do this.

But seeing the frail body sleeping next to him, it didn't feel like that. He felt like she was a victim, conned into a future she didn't want, forced into this… coven of witches, as a witch. I mean, why did they have to be old? Couldn't she have learned magic as she was?

Questions with no answers filed through his brain. Finally, after hours of tossing and turning, he too fell asleep.

***

It felt like he'd only been asleep for a few moments when he heard the chiming of something downstairs. Was that their doorbell? He looked to see if his wife was awake and found her gone.

Sitting up, he pulled on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, then headed out the door. Downstairs, Lydia… Esmerelda… had dressed for the day. She wore a black dress with lace down the sleeves and at her wrinkled throat.

"Good morning," he said, as she handed him a cup of coffee.

"Bonjour." She smiled at him, then hurried toward the door.

Agatha and several other witches swept in. "Good morning, dear ones," Agatha said, and the other two accompanying her also greeted them.

"Bonjour," Esmerelda said.

Agatha rattled something at her in French, and Esmerelda responded, glancing at Thomas and grinning. The witches cackled in response.

"She says you were a sensual lover last night," Beatrice said.

"Well, I aim to please," Thomas replied.

"Today we shall take Esmerelda to the salon. It will help with her geas," Agatha announced.

"How so?" Thomas asked.

"Well, the newly Emerged all have feelings and urges that come with the new body. Esmerelda hasn't had an opportunity to unlock all of them fully. Once she does, she will be able to magically recreate them at any time, but they also reinforce and refine her personality. She is a very strong witch, so I suspect great things from the geas today."

"I see," Thomas said, not at all seeing anything.

"Regardless, dear, I intend to have her home before dark. Enjoy yourself," Agatha concluded.

Thomas nodded and looked at Esmerelda who gave him a shy wave goodbye. He leaned down and gave her a sensual kiss, to the cackles of the other witches around him.

"Keep that up, and you'll go far, boy," Agatha said, smiling as she walked out the door.

Thomas nodded and watched them file down the path, his wife among them. Four little ladies with gray hair, shambling away.

He sighed. He still had plenty of unboxing to do, and he wanted to get his workshop set up. Lydia had claimed the basement early on, so Thomas claimed the back shed. He'd enjoyed woodworking when he was a kid and always wanted to get back to it. He'd set up a couple of sawhorses, and some wood planks to use as benches. He'd also outfitted the shed with awls, saws, hammers, planers, sanders, and everything else a woodworker might need.

He had some ideas to create chessboards with hand-carved pieces. He had several dark walnut slabs and some white oak, and with a little whistle, he started working. After a few hours, he had the board roughed out, the glue set, and it was in the clamps. He took out some small blocks of walnut and a few different-shaped awls and started chiseling out the pieces.

Breathing in the smell of sawdust, he felt content for the first time in a while. Now that they had decided to stay in Willowbrook, it was nice not to have to worry about things like rent, a 'job,' bills, utilities, and all the stress of being an adult in society.

He heard them before he saw them. The women walked up the lane, and he could tell they were laughing and having a good time. It was nice that Lydia had found a group to belong to… he wished she hadn't been forced to be transformed into another person, but at least she had a connection here. He blew off the sawdust from his awls, swept off his workspace, and hung up his woodworking apron, then went into the main house.

Esmerelda stood resplendent in the living room, smiling at him. Thomas's eyes widened as he took in his wife's new look.