Page 98 of The Hearth Witch’s Guide to Spite & Spellwork

“I called admissions at UCL to check when our victims had attended, and Hingley’s death lined up with both their fourth years—as well as Patricia Aldridge’s. I thought about asking to borrow some of their yearbooks from the time, but when they told me the dates I realized that between your aunt and I, we had it covered.”

Saga hesitated. “I didn’t realize there was overlap.”

“Neither did I until I looked at the dates.” He pointed to the individual books, starting with the most recent of the four. “Her first two years.” Then the other two. “My last two.”

An uneasiness began to nag at Saga’s chest. The same discomfort she’d felt when she’d realized Reese Bowen and Osian Goff were the same man. “Did you know any of them?”

Reza laughed at the absurdity. “Not at all. It was a large school, and we had no reason to cross paths. I suspect none had an interest in criminal justice.”

Leigh had mentioned a falling-out with a small coven. That one of her coven had been sundered. Was this… Could this be… But no matter how Saga’s lips tried to form the words, she could not bring herself to voice them. Leigh was not a murderer.

But she might be a target.

The thought was enough to force the question out of her. “Did Leigh?” She could not fathom interrogating her aunt about murder, but protecting her from it? She would face ten Osian Goffs if it saved Leigh from a fate like her grandmother’s. Let alone a fate like Luna’s or Theresa’s.

Reza visibly hesitated. Was it because he did not know? Or was not sure he should say? At last he admitted, “I did not think to ask. I don’t share case information with my wife.”

Of course he wouldn’t. “I think we should.”

“She didn’t know them, Saga.”

“You just told me you didn’t ask.”

“She was a second year when they would have been fourth years. They would have had no reason to speak to each other.” Her uncle’s voice dropped in volume but raised in intensity. Was he worried Leigh would hear them?

Patricia Aldridge had been friends with the other two victims—the photograph from Luna’s funeral confirmed that. They knew due to Patricia’s tenacity that her magic had been bound due to a sealed case. Luna had steeped herself in Mundane magick; Theresa had forsaken magic altogether yet had clearly employed creeping thyme in her backyard to try to conceal something. Either something that needed protection or something she needed protection from. At some point, Saga felt safe to say, all three women had once been able to work magic, and Leigh had confessed she had not worked magic since she saw one of her coven sundered. “Not even if they were witches like she was?”

Reza stilled. “They weren’t.”

“How would you know?” Saga prodded.

“Because I wasn’t practicing by the time I went to college,” said Leigh as she made her way down the stairs, baby monitor in hand. “But if you want to ask me about your victims, I will answer whatever I can.”

Saga’s head bowed as embarrassment overtook her. How much had Leigh heard? “Did you know Betsey Paris or Theresa Abernathy?”

“Duffy,” Reza corrected. “Abernathy was her married name. She would have been Theresa Duffy.”

Leigh shook her head. “The names don’t ring any bells. Do you have a picture?”

Saga quickly swiped through the photos on her phone, bringing up the one Avery had taken of the photograph on the altar. She held it out at eye level for Leigh to examine. “I understand if this is difficult, but if you do know these women, your life might be in danger.”

Leigh’s eyes shifted from the phone screen to Saga’s wrist and the charm bracelet peeking out from the cuff of her sweater. “Where did you find that?”

Saga pulled her arm back, instinctively pulling her sweater down over it protectively. “Riddle led me to it. I found where Mamó put a lot of your old ritual stuff in the attic. I should have asked you if it would be okay if I wore it.”

“It’s not mine,” Leigh whispered. Something changed in her face. She almost looked…afraid. “What else did you find in the attic?”

It sounded desperate. As if Leigh had been waiting for this moment.

At least if Saga needed to make a hasty exit, she still had on her shoes, and the front door was right behind her. Saga pulled the grimoire from her purse, hearing a soft gasp from her aunt at the sight of it. “This was in Mamó’s room. Mum tried to toss it, called it gibberish.”

Leigh chuffed heavily, something between a jagged laugh and a sob. “Of course.”

“But I found these in a box in the attic.” Saga carefully pulled out the photos she’d tucked within the grimoire’s pages for safe travel. One was a picture of her parents on their wedding day, the other when her mother must have been pregnant with her. “Along with what looks like mom’s wedding dress and a ton of letters Dad wrote her.”

Leigh’s body seemed to relax, and with it, tears began to stream down her face.

Reza took a step closer so he could wrap an arm around her.