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The Hearth Witch’s Guide to Spite & Spellwork

Page 117

by Kiri Callaghan

“Both.”

“Are you certain they’re connected?”

“I have reason to believe they might be.” And those reasons were best explained on a full stomach.

“Spooky.” Another pause. “What about Patricia Aldridge?”

“I have the assurance of Lord Blackthorn that she will be kept under watch. If there is anything I can trust him to do, it is keeping an eye on things and then submitting a mountain of paperwork about it. With Patricia Aldridge safe for now, I would prefer to gather more information so our interrogation may be as complete as possible.”

The sounds of Saga cooking filled the silence between them. Avery thought she smelled toast. “I hope I never have to meet him,” Saga admitted. “After last night, I don’t know what I’d do.”

“I recommend punching him in the nose,” said Avery. “That’s my first impulse every time.”

***

“How much do you actually need me to say?” Saga asked after Avery had recounted her full conversation with Gideon on their way to Reprise.

“Not much,” Avery replied. The restriction was limited to the sword and its relationship to Iona, though as attempting to skirt around the issue on the tube had proven, there were some inferences that the geas appeared to bleed over into and restrict.

“Are you sure? Because you said something similar last time…”

Avery’s memory flooded with the image of Saga weeping on the floor of Iona’s office. The iele’s magic had brought Saga back to the altar, the moment when her world came crashing down and she was abandoned in front of everyone she knew. It had trapped her friend in a trancelike state of humiliation, forced to relive those feelings all at once as if they were fresh. It had overwhelmed her. It had not been one of Avery’s finer moments, and even thinking back on it now, a pang of guilt sliced along her sternum. She would be quicker. She would not let her own complicated feelings around Iona distract her. “That won’t be happening this time.”

“Because remember I have new reasons to be angry at Hugh, and at your brother. What did you say about her? ‘I do not expect a shark to ignore blood in the water.’”

“And I meant it, but I promise, we won’t be repeating last time.” Avery would make sure to keep her wits about her to prevent it, no matter what the iele threw at her. Facts would be her anchor here—if something invoked a feeling, it would only be used as a weapon against her. With a deep breath, she pushed the door open.

The floor was marble, pinks, golds. The accents were deep burgundies and brushed copper. Luxury with a thin veneer of warmth.

The moment the door closed behind them, Avery reached to remove the chain she’d bound her glamour to from her neck and dropped it in her coat pocket. If you looked like all your cards were on the table, no one suspected what was in your back pocket. Unglamoured was disarming…and while it gave her no pleasure, her resemblance to Gideon and their late father was far more useful.

Saga gave her a questioning look, but Avery merely shook her head and placed her hands on the front desk.

The woman sitting behind it did not look up from the magazine splayed out over the keyboard in front of her. Like most iele, she took the form of whatever was considered exceptionally beautiful and desirable in her time and location. In Avery’s time she might have exhibited a fuller form, with rosebud lips and a cheek less gaunt. In the present day, she was a reflection of the people in the glossy pages that currently enraptured her.

“Good afternoon,” Avery greeted.

Still, the iele did not look up, and Avery could see the minute shifting of the shape of her nose to match one of the models in the picture before she checked the finished appearance in the mirror.

Avery cleared her throat. “I’m Detective Inspector Avery Hemlock, I’m here on behalf of the Winter Council.”

That made the woman look at her. In the end, the council’s “sponsorship” at least had one silver lining. Not that she hadn’t thrown around their name before when she thought it would get her answers.

It was always risky weaving magic into her voice with other fey. It was never to enthrall or coerce, but to make them pay attention. Avery had also found it made her more persuasive with the Mundane, and in some cases, more intimidating. “I will be needing to ask your employer a few questions about an ongoing murder investigation, but before you let her know I’m here… Perhaps you could answer a few for me first?”

The woman was taken aback. She was not charmed by Avery, but the natural charm the iele herself exuded had dissipated. Still effortlessly beautiful, but no longer a siren. Like emptying the bullets from a pistol. “I… Yes, how can I help?”

“Did you in the last nineteen years or so take on a client by any of these names: Betsey Paris, Patricia Aldridge, Theresa Duffy, or Abigail Rhyder?”

The receptionist shook her head. “We have a strict confidentiality agreement with our clients, I’m afraid you would have to take that up with Mistress Iona directly.”

“Of course.” An idea struck Avery. “What about employment records? Are you able to verify those? I imagine, like every other legitimate business, you would be required to file that information with the Winter Court, and therefore it would not be under the same protections?”

“Of course.” The receptionist paused. “But nineteen years ago would have been before my time here,” the iele said earnestly. “I can look it up in the system?”

Avery smiled, broad and toothy, her fangs visible. “Please.” She provided a piece of paper. “We’ll wait.”

“What are you doing?” Saga asked in a whisper.