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“I’ve got plenty to bargain with, I assure you.”
“You literally don’t,” Hawthorn snapped. “Forget it. We don’t need them. Juliana, I promise I shall stay beside you every day for the next three months, if that is what you wish—“
“Are you trying to terrify me? No. We’re taking them.”
“I won’t step foot in a single tavern—“
“I don’t trust you,” she said, and a stoniness dropped over him. For a moment, something like guilt prickled over her, like the kind she felt whenever she accidentally trod on a cat’s tail. “Besides,” she added, “what if someone sneaks in and carries you away? Or you’re seduced by some beautiful mermaid who leads you off to water to drown you? This could be the difference between life and death.”
Hawthorn gritted his teeth. “Fine,” he said, and turned back to Mabel. “Witch, you will take the payment from me instead.”
Mabel shook her head. “Six months of Fae life is nothing to anyone.”
“Then take six years. I don’t care.”
“Immortal lives are worth far less than mortal ones.”
“She can take the six months,” Juliana insisted. “I don’t mind.”
“Well, perhaps I do,” he said, eyes narrowing.
Perhaps is an excellent word for liars to use,she’d been told as a child. And it was. There was no way he really minded. Why was he doing this?
“I will have some mortal energy,” Mabel insisted. “It was promised. That charm was not cheap.”
“Two months of hers, then,” Hawthorn bartered. “Five years of mine.”
The witch narrowed her eyes. “Two months’ of her life, five years of yours, and a month’s worth of dreams… hers, of course. I don’t much care for yours.”
Hawthorn did not look pleased, but he deferred to Juliana.
She did not want to be in his debt, but neither did she want to bargain more of her life away. And the charm was for him, after all. Why shouldn’t he pay?
She’d never be around to miss him for those five years, anyway.
“Fine,” she said, holding out her hand. “Do it.”
Mabel pressed the extractor into her palm. There was no wound this time, just a bright, hot pain, the sensation of something being pulled from her. A gold mist appeared inside the glass container.
Hawthorn was next. He winced, but said nothing, his whole body tight.
“Done,” the witch declared, taking the extractor away. She passed them the pendants.
Juliana took hers and looped it around her head. It rested against her chest, like a small, hot lump of iron, buzzing faintly.
“Watch out for side effects,” said the witch.
“Side effects?” Hawthorn screeched. “Like what?”
“Mild headaches whilst you get used to them, mostly.”
Juliana raised an eyebrow. “Mostly?”
The witch shrugged. “There may be other side effects. Other ways you find yourself bound.”
“And what doesthatmean?”
“I’ve no idea, dearie. I don’t control the magic, after all.” She gave them a cheery wink, and turned towards another waiting customer.
