Page 3 of Icy Heart, Empty Chest

W hen I got to Filla’s house, I had to balance the second coffee in my hands to knock on her door.

The door knock was old, shaped like a gryphon, looking imposing and out of place.

Truth was, everything looked out of place on her street.

Most houses didn’t have an extended, sprawling garden, enclosed in a glass greenhouse, practically bursting with rows upon rows of brightly colored flowers and fragrant spices.

Most of the houses weren’t brick front, covered from ground to roof in green twisting ivy plants.

Filla, that is, Filomena Francesca Freesia Lou Clemente, had been the sole inhabitant for years.

She was a tad bit older as witches go, well over a hundred but you’d never know if you looked at her.

Witches aged slowest of all beings. She could easily live to be three hundred years of age, imbued with healing and destruction.

Witches believed in a balance in life and healing would be their way of righting the chaos.

My father had introduced me to Filla when I was smaller, at one of his art shows.

She had shown up with her raven perched on her shoulder.

If he was supposed to be a deterrent, no one had told me because I remember as a child asking if I could pet the raven’s head and if she had known that a group of ravens was known as an “unkindness.” She had given me a tense, bemused smile, went to move on then stopped, kneeling down my level, looking directly into my eyes.

“I did know that, child. Has anyone told you that you have enormous potential as a healer? Your mother was one of my best students.”

I felt my father come up behind me and put his hands on my small shoulders. “Apologies, mistress, if Cora’s bothering you. She is a precocious one.”

“Not at all, Theo.” Filla’s grey curls spilled over her shoulder.

She regarded me curiously, like an oddity amongst the frames.

“Get this child into a healer’s program as soon as she graduates.

” Her voice was quiet but with a definitive air of command.

She tolerated no quarter for those who would disobey.

Filla, like most witches, had a touch of preternatural arrogance.

The amount of power she could command was vast and her tolerance for naysaying was low.

I remember my father patting my shoulder, telling her that it was an option and we’ll see where my interest lies. Her nose had wrinkled slightly, as if annoyed that doing anything else was a waste.

I’d seen her around town, said hi when she came into The Magical Beans.

She was also known to freelance. She had a job at the hospital but mainly ran her own shop out of her home for those needing a cure or remedy.

Online sales had gone up recently and she had been doing increasing amounts of business there.

I had been conscripted to deliver a package or two at times.

The vast majority of fae had come to Filla or a witch at some point in their lives.

Gnomes, goblins, pixies, nymphs, kelpies, wizards, etc.

Most of us had some sort of magic in our blood.

It varied from person to person but certain fae tended to be born with their gifts.

It wasn’t guaranteed. Witches were the one species I knew that never skipped a generation.

If your mother had power then you’d have it too.

Nymphs and wizards were similar but it wasn’t as strong and could bounce around to generations.

Pixies could fly but that was all they had.

Others barely had enough juice to power a lightbulb.

It was a magical lottery for power. Sometimes the most powerful fae in the room was the little unsuspecting gnome in the corner with enough know-how to bring the building down around your pointy ears.

In general, the species in the city get along together.

When the ancient fae fought their old gods for control, any species who fought was granted their freedom.

Most lived in harmony but within any species, there are always those who pride themselves on being superior to either those of their own race, or other races in general. I prefer to think of them as assholes.

As far as I’ve seen, while magic is usually prized amongst all species, the ability or lack thereof tends not to cause contention.

When technology started to evolve, some older generations were skeptical.

Medicine evolved as well and there became a nice crossover between doctor and healer.

If you were over a hundred years young, I guarantee you saw a primary care doctor for your long-term stuff but went to a witch or healer when your arthritis acted up.

I liked to say my magic was a bit “out of shape.” I hadn’t utilized it in a while so it was pretty weak.

I never really needed to. Cuts and bruises I could do, even if it makes me feel a bit dehydrated after.

I knocked again and the gryphon’s mouth transformed from a shriek to a moving metal set of lips. “Who goes there?” I remind myself to roll my eyes at the dramatics later.

“Cora. I brought you coffee.”

I heard a click and the door swung open.

The immediate left would bring me into a room for mixing potions and making magic, filled floor to ceiling with shelves filled with books, bottles, stoppers, flasks, and beakers in every color.

The ceiling was a giant chandelier, looking to be from the ancient Fae times, an antiqued brass.

There were glass windows to see up into the clear day, with natural light streaming in.

“In here.”

She was seated at the giant table with a long slender knife in her hands, taking the green portion off what appeared to be leeks. Corrus, her raven decided to land on my head, digging his talons around my scalp.

I winced but didn’t drop the coffee. I knew what the bird was after. He wanted strands of my hair for his nest. My navy hair stood out, even in the fae world. I grumped silently. He’d ruin my braid.

I put down the coffee on the table and took a seat across from her.

“To what do I owe this visit, little nymph?” She took the coffee warily, turning it to see the ingredients on the side.

“I remember what you like,” I answered. She took a sip and nodded, focusing her startlingly light blue eyes on me. To say that Filla didn’t suffer fools easily was an understatement. Despite the gift of time, her patience waxed and waned like the moon cycles.

“You didn’t answer my question, young one.”

“No. It can’t be enough to want to visit?” Flattery works with most people. I’ll see how far I get. With my track record with her, likely not far. Too glacial.

“I tend not to have many social visitors. People usually want something.”

“That’s a shame. This place is fascinating.” Corrus, who was still perched on my head, abruptly took off, taking several dark hairs with him. I glared at his retreating feathers.

She raised an eyebrow at me, now rubbing my head.

“I won’t ask again, young one.” There was an air of lethality that I would be an idiot to ignore.

“Alright, alright! I had a few questions and possibly a business deal to broker.” Corrus landed back beside my hand, preening. “I will get to those as long as you keep him off my hair.”

She chuckled slightly.

“He hasn’t seen nymph hair since your mother. I’m sure you’re told often how similar you look.”

I nodded. It had come up but not for years, since her death.

“So, to start, I’d love to see if I could dispel a rumor floating around.”

Her unamused face turned toward me and Corrus took flight again.

“What rumor?”

I winced internally. Bad choice of words. Rumor had the wrong connotation.

“I’ve been told that you have a kelpie heart around here. A live, fresh-out-of-body one.”

I pushed my cup away from me slightly and set my arms on the table, fingers enfolded. I was aiming for an air of being nonplussed.

“And who told you that?” she asked in a similar frosty tone.

“Doesn’t really matter now, does it? It got to me somehow. We don’t have a large town, Filla. You’ve got a leak somewhere.” I kept neutral. Let’s see what I can extract from this. I looked at my chipping nail polish, frowning.

“Hmm. You have a point and I thank you for bringing it to my attention.”

“You’re quite welcome. I tend not to sit on information for long, which made this particular rumor so tantalizing,” I said. “So, Filla, is there a heart?”

She shrugged. “Even if there is, what of it to you? What good would it be to a low-level thief?”

I brushed off the insult and tried to keep my face calm. “This low-level thief has a potential buyer.”

Filla put down the coffee cup, staring, and cocked her head to the side. “I’m sure you won’t be dissuaded by the fact that this heart, which does exist, by the way, doesn’t belong to me. It belongs to the original owner.”

“Filla, can we stop dancing around? If you have it and performed the dekartios spell on the owner, that’s a list of rules longer than my arm that you tossed to the side. I doubt you would have done it without sufficient...collateral, shall we say.”

Many things in the magical world were highly regulated.

“It would be quite nasty indeed to be in violation of magical law concerning healing, organs, protected species, and such,” she scoffed, with a glimmer in her eye. “No one could pin it on me.”

I smiled and sat back in my chair. “With respect, you’re the only one in the county they could pin it on.”

Her cold eyes narrowed. “In what way?”

“Not to toot your own horn, but you’re one of three witches I’ve ever heard of that is powerful enough for that spell. There’s a handful of other witches in town. None of them have your strength. You’d have to drive four to five hours in any given direction to find someone else.”

A ghost of smile crossed her face. “You always were a clever one.”

I inclined my head in thanks. “So, we’ve established that there is a heart and you’re the only one that is powerful enough to take it out. I don’t know what you got in return but this is how much the buyer is willing to fork over for the heart.”

I pulled a folded piece of paper from my pocket and slid it across the table to her.

She took the paper from me and opened it. I couldn’t discern whether or not she was impressed with the sum. Her poker face was unrivaled.

“You never said what the buyer would do with it, should they get it,” she replied silkily, putting the paper flat.

“My source says the potential buyer is a children’s cancer doctor.” I shrugged. “Seems like they want to cross some magical boundaries. If that truly is their profession, then everything they are doing is off the reservation anyway.”

Doctors had a strict code of ethics and research. This would be, at minimum, cross-species experimentation, and likely under vetted or not vetted at all by any research board.

She nodded. “Those children at the hospital are too scared to mix magic in with their precious antibiotics and infusions.” It took a second to figure out that the “children” she spoke of were full-fledged adult doctors.

“Well, if that’s true, then you get an investment into your interests anyway.”

She picked up the piece of paper and looked at the monetary sum again.

“Say I tell you that this heart isn’t for sale, that the owner may come back to get it.”

“I would say, depending on how long it’s been out, gods only know for what reason, they’ll have to come back for it eventually.

If they haven’t in that time, do they even want to live?

” I countered. “I’m going to take an educated guess and say that it’s been out for a while, or I doubt you would have even continued to entertain this. ”

She didn’t say anything but kept her eyes pinned on me. Come on, Cora, drive it home.

“Look, if it’s been out over a year, what use is it even putting it back in? We have a buyer. It’s going to help kids with cancer. What’s stopping you from saying yes right now?”

She steepled her own hands in front of me. “The fact that the owner could want it back.”

“That is true. Have they given you any inclination since they got it taken out when

they’d want it back?” I argued.

“No.”

“Wouldn’t you much rather be rid of it and be richer by a lucrative amount? I mean, if I heard about it, what’s to say someone wouldn’t try to steal it from you? We both know how valuable it is.”

She looked at me indignantly. “Do you have any idea how diligently warded this house is? They can try.”

I shrugged. “It’s up to you, Filla. I saw the amount; this is a good deal for what amounts to unclaimed property.”

She looked me in the eyes. “You know, with your talent, you’re absolutely wasted doing this.”

It wouldn’t be a trip to Filla’s without a couple of bon mots about my unused aptitude but twenty minutes later I was making my way across town to see Finneas with a deal.

Unbidden, a flashback came to me. Me and him, Damien.

We were eighteen. Barely speaking. None of the ease and warmth we used to have.

Mostly strangers with old memories. Till he sent me a note.

Except it wasn’t him that showed up. But he himself had hauled me out of the lake.

I was coughing up water, shaking, soaked to the bone.

The frustration pealed its way out of me.

Traitor, I called him. Asked him what he was playing at, let me go, don’t ever touch me again.

I remember grabbing my lunch and backpack, slinging it on my sodden clothes and stomping off.

The lake water’s cold April touch extinguished what was left of the fire inside, and I let out a sob, turning onto the road where my bike had been locked, next to his, as always.

I got out to the main road furiously pedaling toward my house.

I saw Filla on the sidewalk and moved my bike down to the main road to make way for her.

My mother always had a healthy respect and fear for that witch.

I never really knew why. Her very posture suggested intimidation.

She cocked her head at me slightly, waving a finger.

Suddenly, my clothes and hair were dry. The only water left was leaking out of my eyes.

I nodded a watery thank you to her and she continued on her way with her coffee.

I shivered as I continued on. Speak of the devil and the devil will appear.

I actively tried not to think of Damien.

The most childish part of me would harp on about the fact that his father nearly killed my own.

Besides, he had stopped talking to me. He had no right to get all smiley at me, flash all his white teeth.

The chip on my shoulder reappeared. I tried to shake it off as I talked with Finneas but man, letting go was not my strong suit.