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My Hexen Master was still clutching the dead-ish woman like a bride on a particularly macabre wedding night. Whatever else was going on, I was certain that he wasn’t going to let the woman go.
“Why don’t we go inside, and I’ll see if can put this heart back in her chest?” I walked toward the mound that Iggy had pointed out.
Apparently, some of these little hill-like structures in Scotland were hollow and others were not. Nothing indicated thatthisone was anything other than rock and dirt, but then again, nothing indicated that the bleeding heart in my hand was something other than stone when I’d first seen it. Not everything in this world was as simple as appearances might indicate.
“There aren’t any visitors centres or doors or—”
Iggy whispered a hex that he obviously wasn’t trusting me to learn, and a doorway opened. It was not much more than a stone archway, but my Hexen Master had a thing for underground lairs. I’d been held captive in a well-appointed pirate lair not too long ago.
This reminded me of that lair, but it also looked like an alchemical workshop: a kiln, stone jugs, and glass jars of some sort of things in viscous fluid. I reassessed. This made the pirate lair where he’d imprisoned me last year look downright posh.
A word, whispered again, from Iggy and whatever stasis charm was holding the materials here vanished. A loaf of bread, supposedly fresh because of the stasis, and jugs of indeterminate contents sat on a stone shelf as if they were new.
Interestingly, there were animal pelts that looked rather like furniture—a bed shaped one and a few that looked like someone had stitched and stuffed them into crude chairs.
Iggy carried the woman to the bed, even though the rest of us could probably appreciate the comfort more than the un-animated corpse could.
“We should eat before we do anything else.” Eli motioned toward Iggy. “What do you need to—”
Eli’s words died at a frustrated sound from Beatrice. She stalkedforward and met Iggy’s eyes only long enough to warn him of her intent before she was sinking fangs into his throat.
I felt rude watching her drink, so I glanced away.
“I hope Nora there has some shiny power or something because I’m not sure a mostly dead woman is much of a weapon,” I admitted to Eli in a low voice.
“Someone”—he glanced at Iggy—“obviouslyhid Gunnora here before Chester dothatto her. If hiding is our only option, we will do the same. I will not let Chester kill you.”
Beatrice released Iggy, who leaned back against a giant stone. “Next,” she said, shoving him toward me. Then she gathered a woven basket that looked new. “I’ll catch fish.”
When she stepped outside, moving quickly enough that I felt a chill in the air, I backed away from Iggy. I was steady enough, and he didn’t look like he was up for another bite.
“Liquor,” Eli said, sniffing a bottle. “Whisky from the smell.”
Iggy nodded.
I needed two things for nourishment, and that was one. The other was in Iggy’s veins, but I thought perhaps waiting until he’d eaten was best, considering how drawn he looked after feeding Beatrice.
Eli handed me the jug after wiping the mouth of it. Then he glanced at Iggy. “I have questions, Blackwood, and if you are smarter than I think you are, you will answer them.”
19
ELI
Eli wasn’t convinced that he could trust Iggy, but right now, the Hexen Master had answers—and there was no reason to let him keep them to himself. Secrets weren’t the ideal when they had a powerful enemy.
“You love her.” Eli nodded toward the dead-ish woman.
“Maybe…? Once upon a time.” Iggy shrugged, but he gave the lifeless woman a look that Eli recognized. Words weren’t always as true as actions.
“And you need Geneviève to put that heart back,” Eli surmised.
“I could do it.”
Eli grinned at that. “Somehow, I doubt that. You need a necromancer. The heart was rolled in graveyard earth. I’m not the only one paying attention, Blackwood.”
Iggy sighed and sat down on the earth floor. “I was already dead when she died, but he still made sure I couldn’t save her. I can do many a thing, but this . . . even though I was vowed to the loa of the dead, I could not stop him. I expected her to die before me. Instead, she watched my murder.”
Geneviève was cradling the heart in her cupped hands like a child who held a secret treasure there. “I want to put this back.”
