Avery felt like she’d been slapped in the face. Of all the misunderstandings in the modern age, “magic” had not been one she expected to be confused on. Her mouth opened and closed like a cod fish before she waved an accusing hand at Saga. “Look at your hair!” She was feeling more and more petulant about her self-deception. “If that’s not flaunting fey genetics, I don’t know what is.”
“Youdorealize it doesn’t grow like this, right?”
The taller woman deflated. “I do now.”
“I dye it. This is hair dye.”
“And the eyebrows?”
“Them too.”
“Really?” For a brief moment Avery felt compelled to inquire about the process of dyeing one’s hair. When had it been invented? Could it be any color? How was it applied? How long did the dye last, what were the social norms around the practice—she caught her curiosity before it ran too far from her. At least verbally. There were more important things at hand. “It is very well done.” Her fingers tapped against her thigh self-consciously. “What about your family?”
Now it was Saga’s turn to be at a bit of a loss. “My family?”
“Your uncle works directly for the Winter Council.”
“He’s a policeman,” Saga stated, her consonants heavy with denial.
“Forourside.”
Saga shook her head, taking a step back. “There are sides?”
Fates. “No!” Avery backpedaled quickly, realized this was too close to a lie and amended it. “Well, yes, truthfully. Somewhat. It is…complicated.”
“You like that word a lot, don’t you?” Anger simmered in Saga like a pot about to boil over.
“Thiscan’tbe the first encounter you’ve had like this…” Avery tried again calmly, attempting to de-escalate. “Think back. Was there anything strange from your past or childhood that you could never quite explain? Your aunt and your grandmother—they practice, right?”
“Notlike this.”
“Your ancestors weretheHudsons, one of the longest unbroken lines of powerful witches in England. The café! It used to be an apothecary—a real cure-for-whatever-ails-you sort of apothecary—you said not much had changed when I told you.”
“Yeah, because food has a healing power all its own,” Saga snapped. “Not because I know how to conjure lightning with a bloody spice leaf!”
“How was I to know your family kept this from you?” Avery shot back.
A tense beat of silence. Saga stared at Avery as the full implications ofthe situation sank in. “Theywhat?”
A voice from down the hall:Rachel. “Is everything all right in there?”
“Fine!” Avery called. The reality of the crime scene solidified around them, and Avery found herself cursing quietly that she could let herself be so distracted by something as petty and childish as…
Saga looked crestfallen.
“I am sorry.” The words were simple but honest, her heart still pounding. She took a deep breath, digging into a well of patience. “Truly, I am sorry. This must come as quite a nasty shock to you, but some rather powerful magic was cast in this room—”
“Can’t you just…” Saga made a gesture mimicking the snap, the leaf, the smoke, and then everything falling down. “On her too and be done with this?”
“If that option was on the table, I wouldn’t have found myself inthispredicament.” Avery growled, gesturing angrily between the two of them.
“Don’t get mad at me,Ididn’t lie to you.”
“Neither didI.” At first Avery worried it might have been the wrong thing to say again; a reminder that it had been Saga’s own family who had deceived her.Theirproblem could be boiled down to simple miscommunication—a comedy of errors worthy of the stage—but what awaited her at home was another matter entirely.
Saga sighed, and with the exhalation, all of the fight left her. She shoved her hands in her pockets, then pulled out the notebook once more. “What do you need?”
Avery took a deep breath of her own. She grounded herself in the moment and task at hand by moving around the bed so that Saga was out of her line of sight. “Look for anything that might be used as be tools of your trade. Candles, incense, an altar…”
