Page 42 of The Hearth Witch’s Guide to Spite & Spellwork

Where her mind had previously drawn relevant information to the forefront of her memory, it now drew a blank. The world grew still and quiet, and she knew nothing except that moment. She knew the way the golden yellow of Saga’s sweater drew out the warmth in her brown skin. She knew the waltz of the particles in the air, visible only in the shaft of sunlight between them. And though she could not explain why, she knew the Andante from Mozart’s Sinfonia Concertante for violin and viola. Avery’s mouth went dry, and then she also knew she had been silent for too long. “Hello.”

Riddle peeked at her from around Saga’s legs. His golden eyes looked suspicious of Avery’s presence. He let out a quiet growl.

“It’s been…” Thirty-four days, nine hours, and seventeen minutes. Instead, Avery said, “A while.”

Saga shifted her weight. “Yeah.”

“I should…” Go. She should go. She should take a cue from Saga’s discomfort and Riddle’s warning and leave. But Avery couldn’t bring herself to comply with the impulse, regardless of how loudly the reclusive nature within her might have screamed it.

“How have you been?” Saga asked.

Missing you. “Good.” Avery’s mouth contorted. “The council has kept my attention thoroughly occupied with investigations.”

“Anything interesting?”

This was a question asked out of politeness and protocol, but the very promise that it might be sincere made something in Avery ache. She cleared her throat and shook her head. Saga did not want to actually hear about the case; she did not want to hear about blood, violent hexes, or the possibility that something more intriguing than just murder might be afoot. She had to remember that. No matter how much she longed for a mind like Saga’s to sharpen her skill against, she could not forget this was someone she’d carelessly put in danger. “I am afraid it has been rather dull since Osian Goff was arrested.” It wasn’t a lie.

“Paying you at least, I hope,” offered Saga with a sympathetic smile.

Avery didn’t care for it. She never cared for pity, but she particularly did not care for someone whose opinion she’d come to value so much to be showing her pity. “Of course.” She straightened her posture, hoping she didn’t look as awkward as she felt. “How…how have you been?”

“Fine.” The reply came too quickly to be sincere. Saga must have realized this, as she amended her statement sheepishly. “Okay.” Another pause for thought. “It’s been hard.”

Riddle butted his head into Saga’s calf and began purring so loudly even Avery could hear it.

Saga smiled down at him and fidgeted with the doorknob. Was she anxious because she wanted to go? Or stay? “I start back full-time at Hudson’s tomorrow.”

“Really?” So she wouldn’t have been able to come with her to the coroner’s office then anyway.

Saga nodded. “Opening shift.”

“I won’t keep you then.” The scream in Avery’s shoulder was forgotten, drowned out by something desperate within her to not let it end here. To say something more. To not let her go. “Perhaps I will see you for breakfast.”

“I’d…” Saga’s lips sucked inward, pressing together as they thinned. “Yeah,” she finally managed.

Avery had never been adept with people. Putting evidence together, that was a puzzle with a correct answer. People had far too many variables. But everything about Saga in that moment suggested she was uncomfortable, and so Avery stepped back. She took a deep cleansing breath and quieted the childlike cries within her begging her not to walk away from her friend. Perhaps she would try to get breakfast elsewhere if it was going to cause Saga discomfort. It was best she leave. She gave a curt nod and walked past Saga toward the stairs. Why hadn’t she taken just a little longer to get home? If she’d delayed, she would have missed Saga entirely, and she could keep pretending the other woman might still want to see her.

“I just found out another big family lie! About my parents never being married. I don’t know why they’d lie about it because it doesn’t make any sense. But I found a whole box of love letters and wedding photographs, and I don’t know who to talk to about it.”

What? Avery blinked and slowly turned to confirm that the string of panic that just blurted in her direction had come from the bewildered witch behind her.

“That’s not true,” Saga admitted quickly. She looked breathless—like holding all of this in had taken everything out of her. “I want to talk to you about it. There’s a lot, actually, that I have been wanting to talk to you about lately.”

Oh. A weight on Avery’s chest lifted, but her throat tightened. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

“Really?” Saga’s voice was hopeful, and Avery saw her posture in a new light. This wasn’t discomfort, this was Saga also struggling to know what to say to her. “I thought maybe you might be avoiding me.”

“I was.” Avery nodded vigorously.

“Oh.”

“It seemed the polite thing to do after nearly getting you killed.”

Saga blinked, stunned into silence. She sputtered a few half-formed syllables before, at last, she managed a flustered shake of the head. “Avery, I nearly got myself killed.”

“Incorrect,” Avery retorted, closing the distance between them once more. She dropped the bags of books to either side of her. “How could you have known who Reese Bowen really was? If you had never investigated the murders in the first place, you would have been able to safely leave with your grandmother’s photographs.”

“Maybe,” Saga countered. “But after killing Doctor Campbell, Osian still needed a healthy vessel. He may have taken advantage of the moment anyway—everyone was out of the office, so I was an easy target.”