ACT II: SCENE 5
Darkness took an eternity to fall. Nettlewart sat alone in her study, looking into the fire. She held her staff tightly, feeling the warmth of its energy.
"There's no way I can stand it any longer," she told herself, "that Hansel boy talking to me like that. Looking at me like that. Confusing me. He's clever, like his sister. He's got to go. But they're up to something, Gretel and the Boy. And they know that tonight's their last chance. I'd better not sleep. They'll take my keys if I do. And then this could all come to an end."
"But the cage can't be opened with keys alone." Nettie wasn't sure whether this voice was one she was speaking aloud or not. It sounded old and familiar and the staff vibrated with every syllable. "You know that."
"So will they by now," she replied. "They took the keys last night. They'll know about the other door. The one that can only be opened with magic. What if they try... that Boy knows where I keep my magic book. And that girl..."
"So? You're the Witch of the Western Woods. Some girl who's had a sleepless night squinting at a magic book is no match for you. If she tries to fight you, it's her own stupid fault what happens to her."
"But the other things in the safe..."
"She won't know what to make of them. And he most certainly won't."
"But I know what their plan is! You think I should just let them go ahead with it as if I had no idea?"
"You know their plan, you also know it can never work. So give yourself the advantage. Don't let them know that you know. And get a good night's sleep. You will be rested, strong and focused, fighting a tired, weak little girl. Then she will see who's boss."
"I just... I don't..."
"Sleep."
The dance of the low flames in the grate was hypnotising. The fire warmed her face and the staff glowed fuzzily in her arms as she held it tightly against her. Her head rolled gently against the back of her armchair.
"Mummy..." she muttered, as the dimly flickering light massaged her into a peaceful oblivion.
Time passed. The staff grew still. The fire died into embers. She began to snore a little. There were faint sounds of movement in the kitchen. Eventually the door opened cautiously and Gretel and the Boy tiptoed through. The Boy snuck over to the witch's desk and eased the top drawer open, not noticing the thin thread of cotton stuck over it snap silently. He took so much care to not let make the keys make a sound as he picked them up that he didn't pay attention to the way they had been laid out in the drawer.
"Come on," he whispered to Gretel as he passed her.
Gretel was rooted to the spot, watching the sleeping witch.
"Hansel's got a point," she whispered, "she does look lost. Not dangerous at all."
"But we know better, eh. Let's go up to the attic. We don't have long."
"That staff." Gretel reached out to it. It didn't spark or glow. It was as asleep as its owner.
"Gretel, no."
She was almost touching it. It was still. Just a harmless lump of wood.
"The staff," she whispered, "the staff has something to do with all of this. Have you noticed the way it seems to talk to her?"
"It was her mother's," explained the Boy. "It's very powerful. Don't touch it. Come on."
"I think it's more powerful than her. Maybe it brings her strength." She reached out further. The Boy grabbed her outstretched hand.
"And what if it does more than that? What if it controls her? Do you think it wouldn't control you too if you took it?"
"I'd destroy it."
"No you wouldn't."
Gretel looked from the sleeping witch to the Boy's bruised face, and back again. She stood back.
"Let's go, then."
The Boy released her hand.
"It's upstairs," he whispered, and they tiptoed out.
The door shut silently behind them.
The staff glowed faintly in Nettlewart's arms.