Saga’s smile was more sheepish now and she nodded. “I’m about to close out for the day—do you need anything else before I leave?”
Leave? Avery didn’t want her to leave. “Actually—” She spoke before thinking and quickly her eyes darted for a reason, landing on the closed file on the counter. “Could I ask your opinion on something…medical?”
The other woman was taken aback and shook her head. “I’m really not qualified to do that. I never finished, remember?”
“I don’t need you to diagnose anything,” Avery assured, setting down the pasty. She licked a dram of gravy off her fingers before taking up the napkin. Her heart was pounding. Why was she so eager to get Saga to stay even just a little longer? Words spilled out of her. “It’s just, if you only left three months ago, I imagine your mind is a fresh well of medical knowledge and you might be able to save me time sifting through encyclopedias by pointing me in the right direction.” Well. Itsoundedlike a convincing reason, though the legality was certainly questionable. She would have to thoroughly investigate this feeling. It was breathless and defied logic, and that made it an anomaly.
Saga eyed the file, then Avery, and lowered her volume to just above a whisper. “Offthe record?”
“Off the record.”
Saga shifted her weight and lowered herself to half lean against the other side of the counter, wordlessly accepting these terms.
Avery reached out a hand, ignoring the small thrill this sent through her chest. “Do you have something to write with?” Saga produced an implement from her apron and handed it to her. She paused, considering the thing, but tested it by putting it to the file folder.
Ink flowed on its own, the inkpot seemingly contained within the penitself. Fascinating.
Avery’s eyebrows raised as she studied the pen point, then proceeded to write down each herb and plant that had been left in place of the victim’s brain. She wanted an opinion without context—one that could perhaps see something she wasn’t seeing that wouldn’t feed into a confirmation bias. She turned the folder around for Saga to read. “Can you think of a connection between all of these?”
Saga folded her arms and leaned on her elbows, peering over the words.
Avery watched Saga’s eyes read the list from top to bottom. Then again. Then slower. And then her gaze shifted to the left in thought, as if reading a list of her own in her mind’s eye. Then back to the list once more.
“A few of these are known anti-inflammatories… Lemon balm is often recommended by homeopaths for anxiety, insomnia, and general alertness…” Saga chewed the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. “Without further context, off the top of my head, I’d guess the person taking them was concerned with cognitive function.”
Avery’s attention sharpened. That couldn’t be a coincidence. “How do you mean?”
“They’re all herbal remedies aiding different aspects of the mind. A few of them can be found as supplements.” She gave a playful smile. “Or in bulk at apothecaries or witchcraft supply stores. I’ve read a few studies that propose just adding some of these to your regular diet can have benefits.” Saga tapped a finger on the list, and as she spoke her eyes brightened. “The lemon balm made me think of it. It’s been brewed as a tea for centuries for mental clarity.” She moved on to the others, pointing as she went. “Some studies have suggested sage contains compounds beneficial to neurological function, and turmeric has been known to help potentially stave off Alzheimer’s by clearing the brain of beta-amyloid.”
“That’s off the top of your head?” Avery was awed.
“I’m a recovering teacher’s pet.” Saga tucked a wisp of stray pink behind her ear. She straightened, resting her fists on her hips, and cleared her throat. “So if you found someone was taking these, they might have afamily history of degenerative brain disease.” She sucked on the inside of her cheek again. “Or possibly encephalitis—it’s rare, but it might give better context for the thyme and wheat straw.”
Avery’s brow furrowed. “Encephalitis?”
“Brain inflammation,” Saga explained. “It has a variety of causes—bacterial or viral infection, an autoimmune response, insect bites…”
“And what do these do for encephalitis?”
“Well,” Saga held up her hands, amending her previous statement. “Notjustencephalitis. A lot of diseases of the brain, such as dementia, involve inflammation, but while wheat straw and thyme can be used as anti-inflammatories, they can also act as antimicrobials, antivirals, and immune boosters. Given the presence of other anti-inflammatories, I have to wonder if wheat and thyme were included for a different purpose. Hence, encephalitis.”
Avery felt the tug of a smile at her lips. “I thought you weren’t comfortable diagnosing.”
Saga crossed her arms once more. “I wasn’t diagnosing, I washypothesizing.”
“What’s the difference?”
“A lawsuit.”
An amused silence fell between the two women. Avery rapped her fingertips thoughtfully on the counter. Saga’s mind was sharp. She had one foot firmly planted in both the Mundane world and fey, and most importantly, she hadn’t been asleep for the past two hundred years. She chose her next words very carefully. “How would you feel…about hypothesizing a little more?” She glanced meaningfully at the file.
“Is…that allowed?”
“I’mallowing it.”
It took no more coaxing. Saga hunkered down on the counter, leaning in with thinly veiled excitement.
“Car accident, one fatality. Driver and sole occupant is a nurse who donates her body to her alma mater for autopsy practice.”
