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“Why is that important?” Sorin asked.
“Because she’s a fucking hedge witch,” Gia responded. “And she must have a decent affinity for wood because this responded to her. I feel it.”
“I’m not a witch!” Amy half-shouted. “I’m human.”
“You used your blood and the boy’s blood to bind my shade, Amy. Human blood wouldn’t be enough and your son’s power is still mostly dormant.” Ignoring the woman’s sputtering response, she focused her next words on Sorin. “Hedge witches are typically solitary practitioners—their kind isn’t common around here and they’re becoming more rare all the time. They only pop up in the human population every few generations in a line where an ancestor was Fae—Sidhé, to be precise—and it’s usually only after about five or six generations pass that you even see one. That first hedge witch would be pretty impressive, as would their offspring, but after another generation or two, the power starts to fade. There might be a strong one pop up now and then after that with weird genetics, but it’s not too common.”
“I’m still not seeing the connection between a type of wood and a hedge witch,” Sorin said.
Gia sighed. “The Fae don’t need symbolism or connections to the earth to use our magic, Sorin. We get that by simply being Fae. Hedge witches have the power, but after a time, it...sleeps, so to speak. Or they forget how to make the connection or don’t know it was ever there. So they need a bridge. Symbolism, spells like hex bags...woods that serve as a conduit for magic. Like pecan.” She pressed a hand to the wood right in front of her, just shy of where she sensed the hex’s binding rested in the wooden planks. “You’ve no doubt heard about how rowan and ash trees are important to the Fae. Much of that is just bullshit, but there is some truth. Pecan...well, it’s a stupid tree. Not instinctive nature to it, but it is protective in nature and it...binds well. Even dull, dying boards like these. So when Amy cast her circle, using a tincture ripe with her blood and her boy’s, the wood came to life and bound to her hex quite happily.”
Sorin was quiet a moment, then said, in an echo of her own curse, “Fuck me. But this binding...it can be broken?”
“Easily.” She knocked the wooden beams. “Burn the floor. Right here. Just here.”
He came to her and went to one knee, touching his hand to the floor. His skin turned fiery hot, like a smith’s forge and the boards exploded into flames.
Amy screamed, a high-pitched, thin wail of pain.
Sorin shot her an irritated scowl and Gia touched her fingers to his arm. “Breaking the binding causes pain. Calm down.”
The scowl faded but he didn’t look perturbed at the idea of the human hurting.
The flames licking up the boards sputtered out. At the same time, Gia’s shade blinked out of existence, disappearing from sight only to reappear hovering right in front of Amy.
“No,” Gia said in a firm voice, shooting to her feet.
Her shade spun around, the normally vague circles where her eyes were glowing a brilliant, opaque black, like onyx. She tried to end us!
“I know.” Gia held up a hand. “And she’ll pay for that. But there is information I need.”
Then, along their bond, she added, “I won’t see a boy traumatized, my friend.”
The shadow flickered, a sort of sighing acceptance coming to Gia through their bond and the shade nodded. Fading from view, she told Gia, “I’m weary. I need rest.”
Gia nodded, then looked at Amy.
“Now...you’ll tell me. Who are they?”
