Page 44 of The Hearth Witch’s Guide to Spite & Spellwork

“I don’t think his and Mum’s names were even spoken in the same sentence ever. When they lied to me about the magic and the fey, I was upset. I won’t lie, I was, but I ultimately understood why they didn’t tell me. This?” The emotion was rising in her voice, and she began to pace. “I’ve been racking my brain as I read through all the letters. I can’t suss out why anyone would keep this a secret. What does it achieve? The only thing I can think of is my mum was so brokenhearted when he died, she decided to pretend it never happened—but then why the hell would the rest of my family lie to me about it? She didn’t even raise me, my grandparents did, so why did they lie? And furthermore, what else did they lie about? Did he even die abroad? Is he actually alive somewhere? Did he go back to live with his parents in South Africa, and they thought lying to me would be kinder?”

Avery spoke gently, weaving a soothing magic into her voice. “How did they say he died?”

Saga stopped pacing and sat in a chair at her dining table. “On a mountain-climbing expedition with friends—he did that a lot. The few pictures I do have of him—a lot of them are at the summit of one elevation or another.” She flinched. “Mont Blanc. He was good, able to do a one-day ascent even, but… They had some newer climbers with them, so they were planning on taking the full three-day route. He probably would have been okay if he’d done it in one. There was a freak snowstorm on the second day—wasn’t in the forecast, but it came in quick. Search and rescue weren’t quite sure about happened, but… When they found him, he was farther down the mountain than the rest of them. They think maybe he’d survived the initial storm and was trying to make his way down…”

“Why do you think they would lie about that?”

“Why would they lie about everything else?” The outburst surprised even Saga, bringing her to her feet again.

“Maybe they were trying to respect your mother’s wishes. Heartbreak does not often operate on logic.”

“Maybe.” Her eyes shone, brimming with tears.

“Do you want that story to be a lie?”

“A little,” Saga admitted quietly. “At least then he wouldn’t have been alone when he died.”

“Oh…”

Saga shrugged and the tears fell. “It’s stupid, I know.”

Avery shook her head. There were countless things one might say about wanting a loved one to have the solace of company when they died. “Stupid” would never be among them. She retrieved her handkerchief from her vest pocket, glanced nervously at the faint stain that had persisted for hundreds of years, and offered it to her.

Saga took it gratefully and dabbed at her eyes. “I’m sorry… Our first time together, and I’ve just dumped family drama all over you. Again.”

Avery frowned. The request she made of Velouette would potentially uncover more of that family drama—and she had made that request without asking Saga’s permission to go poking around for it. “Saga, there is something I need to admit to you.”

“You were also secretly married to my mother for several years?”

It startled a laugh out of Avery, not a polite chuckle but a choked, loud, and unexpected thing. It sent that familiar warmth through her she’d been missing since they last spent time together.

“I’m sorry.” Saga smiled, and the last of the sorrow in her eyes dissipated. “It was just so perfect a setup… I’ve ruined it now, haven’t I?”

“No, not at all…” Avery sighed. Perhaps now was not the time to bring up the files. Not until she knew she had anything to tell Saga, anyway. Instead, she pivoted to something else she did have to tell. “I was intentionally misleading when I said the cases were dull—they have been widely, I will admit, but today… Today I missed having you with me at the crime scene.”

“You did?”

“I don’t suppose you’d be interested in weighing in on another investigation?”

“I would!”

“You would?” Surely, Avery had misheard.

“Yes! Here, sit down.” Saga pulled out one of the chairs to the small table by the kitchen. “I’ll put on the kettle, and you can tell me all about it.”

By putting on the kettle, Saga had actually meant setting a full tea service complete with small sandwiches, savory tarts that she’d apparently already had prepared, and a slice of heaven masquerading as a dessert.

Despite Saga busying herself in the kitchen, she followed Avery’s recounting of the crime scene with precision. It was as if giving her hands occupation gave her mind space to truly focus. Saga, much like her uncle, also had her own opinions about Luna Ravenwood—but hers were more specific and less judgmental.

“I bought one of her books when I was younger, but it wasn’t for me,” Saga answered when Avery inquired if she’d had prior knowledge of the victim. “Mamó had a very inclusive approach to magic, thought it was everyone’s birthright if they chose to accept it. Luna wrote about it more from an exclusionary standpoint. That only a few were granted the gift, and you were better than everyone if you had been.”

Beyond that, Avery laid out the crime scene as she’d seen it, explaining every detail from the victim’s nails to the scratch in the table.

“You’re thinking someone may have sent a curse after her?” Saga finally asked.

“I am reserving any theories until I am able to speak with the medical examiner tomorrow,” Avery said, taking a small, savoring bite of the custard-like dessert. She pointed at it with her fork. “What did you call this again?”

“Pumpkin cheesecake with a gingersnap cookie crust and chai whipped cream,” Saga explained.25 “Will they be running a toxicology screen?”