And she began to ask around. "I need something," she would say. "Where do you go when you need something?"
And she learned. She learned there was a guy who could get her some blood to drink. (Strangely, that sounded pretty good to Grandmother Winter, though not what she was looking for.) There was a guy who could sneak her into the City, a guy who could give her a brief power of taste and some wine to boot, a guy who could get her gold, a guy who could smuggle things from the Upperworld (lots of guys like that, actually)- but there was no one who could help her keep an eye on her grandson.
I made a promise to my grandson, she said. I promised I would watch over him. And I always keep my promises.
The City guy, the taste guy, the smuggling guy-none of them knew. This is beyond us, they said. But I can get you a great deal on some Harpy repellent.
Then she met the blood guy. And she told him, "I need something. I need something beyond the City, beyond gold, beyond blood."
"Beyond blood?" he asked carefully.
"Yes, beyond blood."
"You need the Witch," he said quietly.
"The Witch?"
Yes, the Witch. Grandmother Winter needed the Witch. The Witch was a great secret, almost a myth in the Underworld. Some thought she did not exist. The blood guy, though, he had seen her- or so he claimed. The Witch hid in the caves behind the City, wearing a great black cloak made out of night and shadow. She was almost as old as Earth itself, and she looked it-shriveled, wrinkled, haggard. The Witch had great power and was greatly feared. The Witch could grant wishes, impossible wishes, but she was angry and unpredictable. People went in there and they never came back. That was the price you paid for having an impossible wish.
"I will go," said Grandmother Winter.
"You might not come back," the blood man warned.
"I know," she said.
It took quite a while for Grandmother Winter to find the Witch. The blood man had told her to go to the caves beyond the City, but the caves were vast and confusing.
And then, after days of searching, she found a small cave with a small stone door marked with a Greek letter that she could not read. She knocked, and a raspy voice said, "Who has come?"
"My name is Dalitso Winter," Grandmother Winter responded in the soundless way of the Dead. "I have come to see the Witch."
"Enter."
The woman before her was small and bent over and completely wrapped in a black cloak with a black hood. Stark, white, bony hands reached out from black sleeves, strings of white hair escaped from the hood, and Grandmother Winter could just make out a face made entirely of wrinkles, with a long, crooked, Witch-like nose.
"Why have you disturbed me?" the Witch croaked.
"I have worked hard to find you, the great Witch who can grant impossible wishes. I have a grandson. I promised him I would watch over him."
"I see," said the Witch. She sat down at the stone table in front of her and looked up at Grandmother Winter. "Why should I help you?"
So Grandmother Winter told the Witch. She told her about Zachary, about how there was something all closed up, hard and tight inside of him. How the only time he seemed to expand, to live, was in the summers with her. How he was a boy with a good heart who did not know quite how to use it. How she had left him too early, how there was so much more help she wanted to give him. And how she had decided she would come back to him even before she had had a final vision, a portent of great danger.
The Witch nodded slowly, then said, "Here is what I can do for you," and she proceeded to explain.
Grandmother Winter listened carefully and nodded. "I understand. And I accept."
"Now"- the Witch pointed Grandmother Winter's attention to the stone table -"your grandson." The Witch waved her hands over the table, and an image of Zachary appeared. He was sitting in a chair in the living room of his house in London, staring vacantly into space. Grandmother Winter could have burst with the need to reach out to him, to put her hands on him. "But," the Witch continued, waving her hands over the image, "he will not be here for much longer." The picture shifted to reveal an empty chair. "He is going here, with this family…" She waved her hands again, but Grandmother Winter did not need to look at the picture. She knew where they were sending him. It was a good choice.
"Now," the Witch continued, "I must tell you something very important." And she leaned in, taking off her hood.
Her face was just as you'd expect-a hag's face, old and wrinkled and broken, the nose looking as if it had lived one too many lives-but when the Witch shifted, Grandmother Winter saw something quite else. A flash, no more, an image under the surface, of a wholly different face, with great black curls, green eyes, olive skin, and a strange, sad smile.
In shock, Grandmother Winter blurted out, "Queen Persephone!"
The Witch took a step back. She shook her head. "How…" She looked around frantically. "You must not tell. If anyone found out-"
"You have my word!"
"You must not tell!" She grabbed Grandmother Winter's hands. "If I am to be down here, at least I can make it easier for others who must also be deprived of the Upperworld. But if the Immortals were to find out…"
Grandmother Winter said firmly, "I will not tell."
"All right," the Queen said. "I believe you." She leaned back and smiled. "Now, you must understand what will happen to you. You will not be Dalitso Winter anymore. If I turn you into a sparrow, you will become a sparrow. Dalitso's memories will become the sparrow's memories, as a sparrow would remember. You will not have human intelligence, but"- she raised her hand -"you will have instinct." She leaned in and added, "And in your case I believe that instinct will be remarkably strong." She gazed into Grandmother Winter's eyes intently. "If you make this choice, Dalitso Winter will cease to exist. Do you understand?"
"I do."
"Very well. Have you decided what kind of animal you wish to be?"
Grandmother Winter smiled her Grandmother Winter smile and said, "I should like to be a cat."
Anne Ursu
