34
The firebird could smell the witch’s blood. The corner of its memory that was still the woman could feel confusion and anger but no fear. Those feelings would be dealt with when it was a woman once more. For now, the bird had a task the woman couldn’t complete because the witch had injured her with something alien. . .something wrong.
Once their fight had become physical, her human form had grabbed a hunk of the witch’s hair, hard enough to tear it from the roots. Now the phoenix or the woman could find the black witch anywhere. There was no hole deep or dark enough to hide. However, a hunt wasn’t necessary.
The witch hadn’t gotten far.
High in the sky, the bird scanned the wet street below. Rue de Metz, the woman’s memory provided. The street ran all the way to the river. The witch
