Page 33 of The Hearth Witch’s Guide to Spite & Spellwork

It was not because she was avoiding calling someone else.

“Who is dead?” Esteri had answered.

Avery frowned. “No one.” Well, no one Esteri knew, anyway.

“Oh.” There was a shift in the other woman’s voice that sounded suspiciously like disappointment. “Then what is wrong?”

That frown deepened. “Why do you assume something is wrong?”

It was not possible for Avery to be able to perceive an expression through a device only transmitting voice, yet the silence on the other end illustrated Esteri’s raised eyebrows and pursed lips better than any portraiture.

Avery grunted and elaborated her reasoning for calling. “I have some time to kill before my next case, and I thought we might…socialize, if you have a moment.”

The excited cheer that blared through the phone was something akin to the scream of a kettle, and once it had subsided, the other woman was rattling off an address in Westminster where they should meet in one hour.

Organizing the meetup was a whirlwind that had required very little of Avery’s input, but that was Esteri’s way. It would be a welcome diversion. It wasn’t healthy, after all, for Avery to be so focused on…work.

The address was for a nondescript building set amid other nondescript buildings. Esteri stuck out like a sore thumb among the dreary rust of old brick and the somber coats and umbrellas of passersby.

The tulikettu21 had transformed as much as she ever bothered to—which, if she were not married to a council member, would undoubtedly be pushing the definition of a “Mundane disguise.” She was human in form in that she had forgone the fox ears and tail, but her unnaturally colored hair that mimicked every shade of the aurora, from deep teal to neon green, remained unchanged. She was dressed casually for the Mundane world, but entirely inappropriately for the frigid October weather. A light jacket left open, exposing a cropped shirt emblazoned with a smiling devil face and the words TRICKSTER GOD COMPLEX.

Esteri CastelloTulikettu (Archfey), Age: 1,500+

5’1”, approximately 105 pounds. Aurora hair, pale complexion. Beautiful, but almost never wears shoes or a serious expression. Knows far too much.

Innate ability to manipulate fire and light?

Family:

Spouse, Fiore Castello (dragon), Winter Council member and pompous ass.

Owner-Operator of Hygge.

Mischievous and kind. Trustworthy, but do not share anything personal you are not willing to be teased mercilessly about.

Do not mention Saga to her.

Avery raised an eyebrow at the shirt blatantly advertising the woman’s lack of humanity. “Fiore let you leave Hygge wearing that?”

“Fiore’s concerns tend to focus more on what I don’t wear.”

Avery coughed and shoved her hands in her pockets, disguising her mild discomfort by pretending to take in their surroundings. People didn’t give either of them a second glance. “Why did you want to meet here?”

“Close your eyes.”

Avery stared at her.

Esteri huffed at this hesitation to play along. “Don’t question me, Averoinen.” She grabbed Avery by the wrists and pulled her hands up to cover her eyes. “Close. Can’t you tell I am trying to surprise you?”

Avery’s heart shuddered. She was determined to ignore the warmth seeping into her skin from Esteri’s hands. “I hate surprises.”

“That is because the only ones you ever get are caked in murder. Soon you will realize they can just be cake!”

“Are you telling me you got me a cake?”

There was a long pause, and Avery was tempted to peek through her fingers before Esteri responded. “Cake after. First, the surprise.” The shorter woman took Avery’s elbow in her hand and gently led her forward. “Come.”

A hug was unavoidable when in the company of Esteri—but they were brief; they did not linger. This lingered. Avery was in sudden need of a glass of water. “So I’m walking blind?”