Page 22 of The Hearth Witch’s Guide to Spite & Spellwork

Chastened, Lahiri shook his head. “No one is to enter. If they need me, they’re to call.”

Good. That eliminated any need for subtlety.

Avery concentrated on the darkness enveloping her hand. Shadow was drawn to itself like droplets of water; it longed to pool and grow. It was a quiet yearning, a gentle thrum of energy you could hear if you knew what to listen for. It had been one of the only constants Avery had known since childhood. She curled her fingers, beckoning that music to her.

Shadows slid across the floor, summoned from every darkened corner and nook, including from under the curtain itself. The umbra slid across her knuckles and palm before a flick of her wrist sent it forward, delicately lifting up the curtain. “I will need this collected with evidence.”

“The entire curtain?”

“Strictly speaking, it is likely the evidence is restricted to this side,” said Avery, gesturing to where hands would most often push the curtain back. “Starting from the top, depending on the height of those who used this entrance, allowing for how the fabric collapses when moved and the brush pattern on the floor, it would leave a very small circular space near that top corner where…” She trailed off, evaluating the amusement in Lahiri’s expression, and frowned. “Yes. The whole curtain.”

“I will have it collected.” Avery thought she heard him snicker.

The room within was still dark, the pale morning light creeping in through the front window unable to reach it.

Avery produced a small tea candle from her inside coat pocket. Though similar in appearance, shadow and darkness did not share natures. Shadow was the space between light. Darkness was its absence entirely. You could not dance with absence. She rolled the wick between her thumb and middle finger, focusing her intention, and then snapped her fingers.

The flame flickered to life, casting a paltry illumination that skipped its warm glow on the shining floor below it. Even a spark was enough.

She built upon the shadows it cast, constructing a tall candlestick-like structure to hold the candle aloft. As the flame raised, the candle’s reach extended, casting more shadows until one tiny flame illuminated the room perfectly.

It was a small room, the majority of which was filled by a round table that had also been draped in velvet, with a floor that had to be washed every morning to remove shoe markings. If one was going to be murdered, this was a very useful place for it to happen.

Peeking out from behind the far side of the table were two feet wearing ornate blue clogs, crafted from brocade and a silver filigree that swirled along the wooden heel and down the sole. While certainly it would make a resonant sound against the tile, a wooden-soled shoe was unlikely to leave marks on the floor without serious impact. “How common are these kinds of shoes?”

“You’re focusing on her shoes?” Lahiri echoed incredulously.

“Data!” Avery huffed loudly in his direction. It was all data, didn’t he know that? One could not make bricks without clay. She could not build a case by ignoring details.

The victim’s shoes and their tendency to not leave evidence were equally as important as the victim’s hands, which were dripping with it. The victim’s nails had once been finely manicured but had recently been used as weapons. They were covered in blood and had clawed out pieces of flesh and even hair, presumably from her attacker.

Avery produced a hagstone17 and looked closer at the blood and tissue beneath the victim’s fingers. Human. Upsetting, yes, but utterly Mundane. Violent and horrific, but that was neither uniquely fey nor human.

But beneath the blood on the victim’s wrists and forearms, the skin appeared unscathed.

Avery frowned, shifting to get a closer look. No defensive wounds? Had the victim attacked first?

Something uneasy began to stir in her stomach, and her attention reluctantly raised to the face concealed by the way the body crumpled into her own arms.

Lahiri had said he’d known by the body.

Steeling herself, Avery drew the remaining unemployed shadow in the room to her hand, and with it the room brightened even further. It extended and gently reached out to carefully turn the woman onto her back, but the body was stiff, too stiff to move easily. Rigor mortis had had time to fully set in but not depart—she’d been killed at least six hours prior.

Unable to move the body completely, Avery settled for shifting her own position and using the shadow to move the hair out of the woman’s face.

“Faex.”

Gashes had been dug into her face and neck, deep and frantic. It was barely recognizable as a face. The eyes had been gouged out, and the skin scraped and clawed. As if this carnage was not sufficient, someone had taken a blunt object and repeatedly bludgeoned the woman’s skull.

It was not the worst Avery had ever seen, but that didn’t make it pleasant to look at. A sympathetic sensation burned along her face as she examined every gash. “What did this?” she called to Lahiri, who darkened the doorway but came no farther inside.

“Never seen anything like it.” He pointed to a crystal ball that had rolled to the corner. “That may be what she was hit with. Not sure what came first—coroner will have a better idea of the cause of death.”

Avery moved to examine it and frowned. The deep crack in the crystal orb was recent—likely due to a scuffle, but the blood that layered over it gave her pause. It was, at a glance, simply a large streak, but on closer inspection there was what could be the heel of a palm…and fingerprints. Her eyes followed the faint smear pattern across the floor to where it trailed back roughly to the victim’s own hand. Was it possible?

Carefully stepping closer to the body, she checked for defensive wounds on the other hand—nothing. The hair stuck to Luna’s fingers looked remarkably like her own, and closer examination revealed that the nail marks dug into the scalp did as well. How could this be self-inflicted? Had the victim bludgeoned herself to death? Was the human body even capable?

Saga would have known the answer to that. She likely would have a few modern explanations for how it could potentially be accomplished—a mania, a poison…