Page 29 of The Hearth Witch’s Guide to Spite & Spellwork

“What would have happened to me?”

“Such rituals have rarely been completed to success. You probably would have been fine. Eira’s spirit, on the other hand might have pulled through enough to leave a mark like a residual haunting, or she may have become a poltergeist.”

“And if he had managed to put her soul in my body?”

Leigh flinched and took a bite of her tartlet, savoring the flavor before answering. “Then you might have become the ghost haunting that place.”

It was not the sort of thought Saga wanted to linger on. She set her untouched tartlet back on the plate. “Can I get you a cup of tea?”

Leigh smiled. “Please.”

Saga took the excuse to escape her aunt’s direct gaze, finding comfort in the habitual motions of preparing the kettle and bringing down two cups and saucers from the tea cupboard. “I understand why ending life is illegal, but isn’t creating life a good thing?”

“Life in itself is magic.” Leigh’s answer sounded so much like Saoirse. “Tampering with its natural progression is considered one of the highest crimes. It is not our place to decide when and how that magic stays or goes, and attempting to control it can disrupt the cycle.”

“How so?”

“Well, as I said, forcing a soul back into this plane can cause them to get stuck—hinder their ability to continue on.”

“What if that soul wants to stay on this plane?” Saga could feel Leigh’s gaze on her back from the other room. She cleared her throat and tried to sound casual as she turned around. “I mean, what if Osian Goff was right and his daughter wanted to return? Let’s say he didn’t have to use other people’s organs, or—”

“Or he didn’t have to use your body to do it?”

“Yeah, I mean, if it didn’t have to harm anybody else in order to bring someone back. What would be wrong with that?”

“Nothing could have brought your father back, Saga.”

Saga felt like a child caught in a lie, and her eyes began to burn. Had she been so transparent?

Leigh’s smile held a sadness so deep Saga regretted asking the question. “Just like nothing can bring back my mother.”

“I just thought, maybe, if the soul was consenting…” Saga’s heart ached. This wasn’t helping ease her aunt’s grief or her own, and yet, the sense of injustice nagged at her. They had both been taken too soon. Was there no case in the eyes of the law for exception if it brought no harm to others? “They didn’t deserve to die like that.”

“Death is not a punishment for living; it’s merely the passage into the next world.”

The kettle beeped, and Saga wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Right.” She sniffed and focused on scooping leaves into the basket within the teapot. Still, there was another possibility. “You said it was legal to reach out?”

“I thought we might reach out to your grandparents at Samhain this year.”

It was tradition to reach out to those who had passed on the holiday. She remembered placing photographs on the altar, leaving offerings to both spirits and family, and working with the pendulum to speak to any who might be with them that night. The veil was said to be thinnest twice a year, as the world began its descent into darkness at Samhain, and as it climbed toward summer at Beltane. “Can we?”

Leigh hesitated, then nodded. “We’ve been doing it for your grandfather since he passed. I imagine that’s not the easiest thing to hear, but inviting you to join us, would mean—”

“Telling me everything else,” Saga finished. She understood why they had kept her in the dark, but it was impossible to ignore the bitterness it stirred in her. What else had she missed out on? “So, can we reach out to anyone?”

“If they have not passed on. Your grandfather was waiting for your grandmother so they could go together. I imagine, being so close to Samhain, they’d want to wait a little longer until we spoke before they continue on to whatever lies ahead after.”

If a soul could be reached for a time after they died… Then it was possible, though Saga’s father had died alone on that mountain, he’d got to say goodbye to someone before leaving. “Did anyone try to contact Dad when he died?”

Shame was not an emotion Leigh Hudson was accustomed to, so its expression looked unnatural on her face. “He was unable to be reached.”

Saga felt defeated but nodded. Her father had been Mundane, and her mother, even if she had been on speaking terms with the man, would have scoffed at any ritual nonsense her family was involved in. What reason would Viggo Trygg have had to linger? How could he have imagined anyone would be able to reach across to say goodbye? He would have seen his next adventure laid out in front of him and taken it in stride.

“Perhaps that’s enough for today,” said Leigh, standing.

“No.” Saga shook her head. “Please, I’m sorry. I didn’t expect this all to come bubbling up. I want to learn more.”

“Magic never comes without cost, Saga—even those spells we choose not to cast. You have to understand, if you go through with this, this will not be the last time knowledge will bring you heartache.”