It took some calling, but Charles eventually tracked down Professor Magqanyaza’s friend, who was then able to direct him to the facility where the old witch and her son had been taken. It was a small charity home in a neighbouring village to Redruth. When they arrived there, Charles left Max with the van while he went in to visit the woman alone. Given what she had been able do over a few pointed questions, he thought it was best to keep his man out of the line of fire, so to speak, and the arrangement suited the old butler just fine.

Once Charles got inside, the nurse on duty directed him to a small dormitory at the back of the house, where he found his quarry looking much cleaner than when he last encountered her, but still bald and toothless. She was sitting on an ancient rocking chair, while staring out the window blankly. Her rags had been replaced with well-worn hand-me-downs that made her look much less treacherous than Charles knew her to be. Nevertheless, the sight of her again made his inner hackles raise.

“Hello, Mrs Manzana,” Charles said politely. “I’m Charles Goqongwana. We met in Potsdam two months ago. Do you remember me?”

Before responding, the old woman turned her head towards the sound of Charles’s voice and looked through him, rather than at him. She gave no sign of recognition and offered no reply, so Charles blinked at her owlishly from behind his glasses.

“I’ve come to ask you to undo whatever it is you’ve done to me,” Charles said, but the witch did not move. He then came nearer to her and crouched awkwardly at her side in order to get closer to her level. “Please, Mrs Manzana, I’d like my life back,” he said, and he knew he was not above pleading with the old hag, if necessary.

At last, the old woman’s eyes flickered up to his, and a horrible, wicked smile crept across her weathered features. She laughed. “Told you,” she cackled, “I knew more than you think. Nobody believed me.”

“Yes, well, I believe you now, I can assure you,” Charles said earnestly. “Please, I’ve kept my promise, no harm has befallen you or your son as a result of the questions we asked you about the missing albino twins. Your youngest is safe here with you. I saw him as I came in. He looks well.”

Before responding, the old hag eyed Charles carefully and reluctantly took his hand, turning it over to examine his palm. Charles tried not to flinch at her cold touch, even though it made his skin crawl. After a moment, she shook her head and released him. “Nothing to be done,” she said. “It’s all in your hands now. You’ve seen more than one moon. By blood and bone, you’re bound.”

Charles protested, and the old woman’s eyes danced with satisfaction as she regarded him. His dismay obviously amused her, and she chortled harder when frustration dropped his voice to a hitherto uncommon growl.

“See? See?” the old woman crowed. “Part of you now. Learnt your lesson, I hope. Go away and leave me be. Abaphantsi take as they like, and this has nothing to do with me anymore.”

After speaking, the old woman began howling at Charles until he retreated from the hut, red faced and rattled. Once outside, he stopped to compose himself. He leaned against the old, wooden fence, and, to his horror, found that his new condition presented an unexpected danger to losing his equanimity. While he was thinking, he fought back against an overwhelming instinct to change, shed his human shape, and express his wrath with tooth and claw. The irony that, only hours ago, he had assured Max that he was as near harmless as could be rankled at him, giving him the strength and will to suppress the vicious urge. He then returned to the car once he had successfully regained control of himself.

Having witnessed his display of manful determination from the confines of the van, but blissfully unaware of its full import, Max looked at his employer expectantly. “Well?” he asked.

Charles shook his head in response. “No luck,” he said. “The witch is unsympathetic to my plight.” He then clapped a reassuring hand on Max’s shoulder in order to forestall the man’s disappointed reaction. “Don’t think this means I’ve given up, my dear old friend. I’ll find a cure. You’ll just have to put up with my continuing moonlit constitutionals for a while longer, that’s all,” he said, presenting his companion with his best ravenous smile.

***

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