Ágota gestures with a berry-stained finger and the pages of the book flip. “Yes.”
“But how did he know about her?”
Wiping her hands off on her skirt, Ágota lifts the book so I can see an illustration of the doorway between the two worlds. Our mother carefully drew herself as a child stepping through the opening. “When the witches created the passage into this world, all the ley lines in this world trembled with the onslaught of the new magic. All the creatures of magic sensed the arrival of the witches. The devil sensed the change, too, and went in search of the source. He found the lower witches first. Some he turned to serve him. Others fled. One of his new servants told him about the only Archwitch to escape to this world.”
“Mama,” I say with certainty.
“Yes. It took him centuries to find her. When he did, he offered to take her to the Scholomance. It is near a hidden lake called Lake Hermanstadt in the Carpathian Mountains.”
“What is it?” I recall my mother refusing to leave with the devil to travel to the Scholomance. At the time, I had not understood what she was speaking about.
“It is a school of black magic that only opens every hundred years. The devil teaches ten students the blackest of magicks there, and at the end of ten years, he keeps one student as payment. He tried very hard to persuade Mama to attend, but she refused. Every hundred years, he would appear on her doorstep to beg her to attend. Every year, she told them she would not. Finally, he decided to force her. She escaped and hid for a very long time, but she knew he might someday find her.”
“He wanted to make her wicked like him,” I say, disgusted at the mere thought.
“Yes, he did.”
A terrible thought occurs to me and I burst into fresh tears. “Now he shall come for you!”
“He does not know my name. Mama kept it hidden from him. It will be very hard for him to locate me.” Ágota smirks with satisfaction.
“But Enede knows it. So does her mother. And the other ladies in the village.”
A look of pain flits across Ágota’s face at the mention of her beloved. “Mama cast a spell so they would not remember our names when they weren’t in our presence. And now that we are no longer in the village, they will not remember us at all. Mama cast powerful spells to erase us from the memories of the villagers. After she was tracked down by several people from the other villages we lived near, she knew she had to expend the strongest of magicks to protect us.”
“So the devil cannot find you because he does not know your name?”
Ágota nods. “Exactly. Names are powerful.”
My mind drifts to the promise I made to my mother. I must never tell anyone, not even Ágota, my true name. I pull the hood over my head and stare at the toes of my shoes. My feet are cold.
“Do you miss Enede?” I ask.
“I do not know. Maybe. I suppose I will miss her, but she is not the only girl I kissed. Mama was right. Enede and the other girls will marry and have babies. My future is not in that village.”
“Where is it?”
“With you. For now.” Ágota leans over to kiss my forehead. Her lips are so hot I flinch. “You are cold. You should have said so. The magic in me is so hot, I cannot feel damp or cold.”
Ágota’s fingers twist into elaborate shapes and a small golden ball of light forms above our heads. A warm glow fills our tiny haven, and soon my fingers and toes begin to thaw. Ágota flips through our mother’s book, her face twisted into a scowl.
“Will I get married and have babies?”
The concept seems so strange and foreign.
“One day, I suppose.” Ágota tilts her head toward me, her eyes starting to turn green. “Yes, I am sure you will.”
“Can you see it?”
“I cannot explain exactly what I see, but, yes, you will marry and have a fine house.”
“And where will you be?”
The green in her eyes fades away and she shakes her head. “I do not know. I cannot see the future for myself.”
Sadness fills my heart. I remember Mama saying that she could not see her own future either. That is probably why the devil found her and killed her. I wipe away fresh tears, frightened for Ágota. I hope my mother’s spells worked and that the devil will never discover her name. My secret name seems more important than ever.
“Where are you?” Ágota unexpectedly asks.