Page 49 of Song of the Hell Witch

Twenty-Five

Pru’s body fizzed as she stepped inside the manor. She wasn’t sure which thrilled her more: the marvelous architecture surrounding her or the ecstasy licking up her arms and legs, warming her like a bottle of fine braceberry wine.

The foyer was an absolute marvel. Each sconce on the wall was encased in red glass, so the space glowed crimson, breathtakingly eerie.

Ahead of them, open archways outlined in ornate molding offered a brief glimpse into the next room, its walls a lush burgundy.

Specks of color from stained-glass windows glittered across the floor, the same black-and-white tile spilling out beneath their feet.

And somehow the floor called a memory up from the depths of Pru’s mind. She and Emmaline sat with their legs dangling over the side of the bed they’d shared with their mother, who knelt on the floor, tickling their feet as she told them a story.

“You know, little ones, vagabonds and the Druids that came before them, they don’t believe in ridiculous things like good and evil.

” It had been one of those rare nights where her mother’s spirit was free of the impenetrable sadness that eventually led her to stuff her pockets with rocks and jump into the Whip.

“We know there’s just humankind, with all of our dark secrets, our mystery, our kindness, and our rage.

That’s why black and white should always be together.

You can’t have the light without the dark. ”

Occasionally, Pru still found herself believing people could be more than one thing—but time and time again, the world showed her that evil was easy, and too often, people settled for easy.

The thought knotted in her stomach—until the intoxicating hum pulsing through her blood made her forget it altogether.

The other Hell Witches. Their magic crackled around her, so powerful it was easy to believe she was standing in a cloud of lightning. She closed her eyes, drinking the power in.

“Miss Merriweather?” Arcadie said, though she barely heard them.

“Pru, you okay?” Puck sounded so exhausted.

“Yes, I’m just …” She took a deep breath. “They’re definitely here.”

He squeezed her hand tighter. “Bea, too? Can you feel her?”

“It’s all a bit of a—”

“And what do we have here?”

The familiar voice chimed from the staircase climbing up the right side of the foyer.

The three of them startled and turned. Mari stood on the topmost landing, framed by a grand archway that led into the manor’s east wing.

She pranced down the steps, hand gliding along the polished black banister.

She wore high-waisted bottle-green trousers and a cream-colored blouse covered in small emerald flowers, cinched at the back to show off her figure.

Her tight black curls flowed long and loose, framing her brown face in near-perfect symmetry.

In some ways, Pru felt like she was seeing her for the first time.

“Saw you coming up the path.” She hurried toward them, and when she got to Puck, she went to throw her arms around him, then caught sight of the bandage—and his ashen complexion. “The hell happened to you?”

“Long story.” His words came out in a rush. “Where’s Bea?”

“Hello to you too.”

“Sorry.” The lines in Puck’s face softened, and he threw his good arm around his best friend and pulled her into a hug. It didn’t last long, though. “Where’s Bea?”

“She’s fine, I swear.” Mari sighed, placing her hands on her hips. “The thing is, you can’t see her just yet.”

Pru burst out laughing. “We’ve been on the road for two days; he has to be able to see her.”

“Right. I mean, obviously, you’re gonna see her, it’s just …” Mari kneaded her hands like she was nervous. “She’s in session right now.”

Puck cocked a brow. “She’s in what ?”

“Oh, session!” Arcadie straightened up, brushing some of the dust from their coat. “It’s when an experienced Daughter and an inexperienced Daughter take tea, share feelings, practice basic skills.”

“Exactly.” Mari’s expression brightened. “It’s a good thing, mate, it means they’ve got her Subversal under control and she’s learning so much, you wouldn’t believe how much already! Rita says she’s never seen a girl so impressive.”

Pride rippled across Puck’s face.

“And the sooner she figures out how to use her powers, the stronger she’s gonna be,” Mari continued. “I’ve actually been doing sessions too, even though I’m not … well, you know. Rita, she’s one of Flossie’s friends, she’s—”

“ Flossie? ” Puck scoffed. “You’ve got a pet name for the woman who nearly killed me?”

Mari’s throat bobbed in a swallow. Given that Puck’s temper was obviously balanced on a knife’s edge, Pru decided it was best to turn the conversation elsewhere.

“Is there anywhere we can wait while she finishes her session?” she asked. “Or anyone we should meet? We heard most of the Ladies are away on a trip with the younger girls.”

“You just missed them.” At this, Mari rose up on her toes.

“They’re headed to one of the last Druidic temples in Leora, hidden in one of the caves some ten, fifteen miles from here.

They won’t be back for about a week. Bea was considering going, but I told her, Puck, I said, ‘Your dad’s gonna wanna see you, talk to you. ’ ”

“Thoughtful, thank you.” He didn’t do anything to mask the sarcasm.

Mari’s nostrils flared, betraying her own frustration.

“A few of the Ladies stayed to hold down the fort, though. Rita’s here, along with Floss …

Florence, who you know, of course, and then there’s Naomi, she’s the banshee helping Bea, and Cressida.

They’ve all been away on assignments for a while, so they decided to forgo the pilgrimage, stay and rest.”

“Cressida! She’s the cantankerous young lamia I delivered a month or so ago from that asylum in Avondale,” Arcadie said.

Pru suppressed a shudder at the mention of an asylum.

Some of the Silks she’d met in the last year had shipped their daughters away to be treated for illnesses like hysteria or paranoia.

They always said it was for their child’s own benefit, but the mothers always looked at the ground when they spoke about it.

Because every woman in Leora knew what awaited her in one of those places—an early grave or an ice pick to the brain that would erase who she was, make her the docile, malleable plaything so many Silk families needed their daughters to be.

“How is Cressida doing?” Arcadie continued. “Settling in all right?”

“Still bites like a horse, but she’s doing better, I think,” Mari told them. “She’s out in the back garden practicing her Phasing. Maybe that’s where we oughta start the tour?”

“Phasing?” Pru and Puck asked together.

“Yes. Hell Witches … sorry, Spectabra Daughters … can choose which phase they appear in. So like, you, Pru, you could—”

“Pick which parts of the Vultress I want you to see and which ones I don’t.

Thank you, Mari, I know what being a Hell Witch is like.

I’ve actually lived it.” She knew it was cruel, given how much Mari wanted to be a Hell Witch, but she couldn’t help it.

Frustration twisted between her ribs like a thorn, and once again, her temper had seized control of her tongue.

Mari tried to hide the wince in a smile. “Glad to see everyone’s so cheerful . How about we pretend we all shared a nice, warm hello and I show you around?”

“As long as the tour ends with my daughter in my arms.” Puck’s shoulders snapped into a rigidly straight line.

Mari gestured toward the archways ahead. “If you’ll follow me.”

“I think I’ll go find Lady Rita and Lady Florence,” Arcadie said, holding up their hands in farewell. “Could you point me in their direction, Mari?”

“We were all in Flossie’s chambers earlier.” Mari bit her bottom lip, obviously holding in a giggle. Puck cracked his knuckles at his sides. “Wouldn’t surprise me if they’re still there, but I definitely suggest you knock.”

“Many thanks. Mr. Reed, Miss Merriweather, if you’ll excuse me.”

While Arcadie strutted across the foyer, Mari led Pru and Puck into what looked like a ballroom. It was mostly empty, though there was a fireplace in the center of the far wall and two fainting couches on either side of the room, emerald velvet specked with red roses.

Pru had been right about the room having stained glass windows.

Each of the lancets depicted different Daughters in beautiful jewel tones: selkies and mermaids swimming in a turquoise ocean, vampiresses with their hands pressed together in prayer, their heads bowed in submission to some unseen force.

One panel in particular caught Pru’s attention.

The woman’s wings were a deep indigo rather than silver gray, but there on the right-hand wall, she swore she saw herself.

Her mouth was open in a furious scream, and her talons clawed at the air with a ferocity Prudence had experienced only during her fight in Welling.

Obsidian glass made up the strands of her hair, whipping wild around her, and not for the first time, Pru longed for her long, silken locks.

“They hold group training sessions in here,” Mari told them, drawing Pru back into the moment. “The Ladies put the young girls through Phasing and sparring lessons twice a day. It’s fascinating to watch.”

“That what you’ve been doing this whole time, then?” The growl in Puck’s voice was deep, pronounced. “Flitting around like some lovestruck schoolgirl, hoping the magic’ll rub off on you?”

“What was I supposed to be doing, exactly?” Mari snapped back.

“I brought your daughter here so she could get better. I checked in on her every hour, on the hour. I made sure she ate her meals, that she slept through the night. And yes, in my free time, I made friends and asked questions. Now, would you like to continue being a cockpuss, or are you going to get over yourself and realize I gave up my dreams for you ?”

“Don’t you dare put that on me,” Puck fired back. “I told you to get on that ship! I told you—”