Page 52 of Song of the Hell Witch

Twenty-Six

Pru thought her comment might earn her a What do you mean by that?

Perhaps a cold yet gentle Explain . Instead, Naomi insisted they take the conversation upstairs.

Apparently, outside of Florence—who wasn’t afraid of Puck in the slightest—the other Ladies had expressed some misgivings about a man lingering in their space for too long.

“I do believe they’d like to hear all the reasons why Mr. Reed is an exception to the rule,” Naomi said as she ushered them out of the hall and back toward the foyer. “Not that your little one’s given us much reason to doubt, but still. No harm in listening.”

Which was how she, Puck, Beatrice, and Mari all found themselves trapped inside an awkward silence in one of the tearooms upstairs. Decorated to look like the inside of a cupcake, the room was covered in floral wallpaper, the flowers’ petals all different pastels.

Definitely not my taste, Pru thought .

“No, but it is mine!” a woman uttered from the other side of the room in a singsong Belacans accent.

Pru jumped, and a cold chill shivered down her spine.

It was unnerving, having someone listen to her thoughts without her knowing—even someone as gorgeous as this woman was.

Her skin was a golden brown, her hair the color of smoked chestnuts.

Her lips were full and pressed into what looked like a permanent kiss.

“I’m sorry, it’s just … your thinking, it’s very loud.

Anyways, this room. I designed it. It is joyful, no? ”

“It … sure.” Pru set her teacup down on the coffee table in front of her. “You’re”—it was becoming difficult to keep all of them straight—“Rita?”

“Yes!” She smiled and gestured to the tea. “I hope it is to your liking. I thought it might ease the tension. White tea, flavored with spiced apple and pear.”

“It’s quite nice, thank you.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Puck echoed, taking a sip. He was trying to redeem himself, gentle his tone a bit, but his knees kept bouncing. Mari placed her hand on one of them, trying to settle him. It didn’t work. “Look, if I gave you the impression I was angry or aggressive, I didn’t—”

“So. Prudence,” Naomi said, as if Puck hadn’t spoken at all.

She sat in an armchair that looked very much like a throne, one knee crossed over the other.

Florence and Rita shared the other chair, Rita perched in Florence’s lap, Florence’s arms slung around her waist. The succubus shot Puck a teasing wink.

Meanwhile, Cressida stared out the window, the angry lamia studying the garden like she couldn’t care less about the conversation. “Tell us how Mr. Reed saved your life.”

“Bit of a hero over there, Reed?” Florence’s mischievous grin widened by the second.

Thankfully, Puck didn’t quip back. Pru willed herself to ignore the sweat on his brow, the gray pallor in his face, and stay focused on the conversation. “Which time, exactly?”

“Why don’t we start with the first time?”

So she told them: about the storm drain and the Plantagenet Theater, about the lessons he gave her in picking pockets and cutting purses, leaping over walls and charming unsuspecting Silks. Then, skipping over her years in Belacanto, she focused on the night Frederick was killed.

“I could’ve run on my own. Or I could have grabbed some of the jewels from my room and bribed my way to the Wild Fangs.

” She caught his eye. “But I went to him because I knew he’d do whatever he could do to help me.

Because that’s who Puck is. He’s built a life out of desperate circumstances, and on top of that, he’s risked everything, his own freedom even, to keep the mothers in his part of Talonsbury safe.

He’s made sure that fathers get to raise their children instead of dying in some Silks’ war. ”

“I can vouch for that,” Mari told them. “He’s a hero in the Podge. Where we live. Or where we lived, I guess. He always gives us everything we need and risks his neck when we don’t have it to make sure we get it.”

Between them, Puck stared at the space between his knees. Behind them, Bea released a wet half laugh.

“Without Puck and Imogen’s help that night, I wouldn’t be—”

“Imogen?” Naomi uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. “You saw Imogen Shearborn? Recently?”

Mari, Pru, and Puck all exchanged glances.

“Did you tell them?” Pru asked.

Mari shook her head. “Thought that might be a together thing.”

“You thought what might be a together thing?” Florence let go of Rita, and the two of them stood, fists clenched at their sides like they were readying themselves to fight. “You told me she was captured by the City Watch. I’ve been waiting for her to show up for days.”

“We …” No, no, no.

Rita stole the words from her mouth, and Pru watched as something shifted under her skin.

“They lied to you, Flossie. She’s not with the City Watch.

” The snake came on its own, sliding out of a slit that opened in Rita’s arm.

The butter-yellow viper wrapped itself around Rita’s bicep like some kind of bangle, its pink tongue licking the air. Puck inhaled sharply. Pru just froze.

She’d never actually seen a gorgon before; it was even more terrifying than she’d imagined it would be. The viper stared her down, a reflection of Rita’s own rage.

“You tell me what happened to her right now, or I swear to the Mother, I will gut you.” The film peeled over Florence’s eyes, turning them into those malicious snake slits. “Both of you. Right here.”

Pru breathed through her fear. “Have you heard of General Maximus Hale?”

“Yes, actually.” Naomi adopted an eerie calm that chilled the blood in Pru’s veins. “Imogen warned us about him, just after the war. She said we needed to be wary of him, that she could see him using the fear and grief the war left behind to start some religious crusade.”

“How would Imogen have known Hale?” Puck asked, speaking for the first time since his attempted apology. “I’d never heard of him till the war.”

“He was a zealot Apostle in her town when she was a girl,” Florence said through gritted teeth.

“When his name started showing up in the papers after the battle of Zafiro Bay, Imogen told Hetty and the rest of us about him. She said the Senior Apostle had expelled Hale from her local abbey for being too radical. Apparently he preached that until Leora finally aligned itself with the Lightbringer’s true vision, we’d continue to suffer while other, more sinful countries thrived around us. ”

“And then he went off and became a war hero,” Puck said.

“Yes,” Florence said. “So, what do you think he’s done to her?”

Pru couldn’t help it. If she wasn’t back yet, Imogen was probably still strapped to the pyre in Whitefire Square, charred muscles and melted face meant to serve as a warning to the women of Talonsbury: Revolt and face the same fate.

“Put … put her to the torch,” she forced herself to say. “He’ll want to demonstrate his power. As the Zeraphel’s leader. As the Savior of Leora.”

Florence went white as a sheet. Rita wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her in for comfort, but she pushed her away.

“Wait, did … did you say Zeraphel? As in the winged warriors from the Epistle of Light?” Cressida asked from her place at the window. The way the light cut across her face, she looked so young, so much more girl than woman. “Do they think they’re the Lightbringer’s chosen or something?”

“That’s exactly what they think,” Mari interjected, rolling her eyes. “But they’re really just a bunch of men who have poisoned themselves with Hell Witch blood and decided they’re Saviors of a people who don’t need saving. There’s nothing holy about them.”

“Wait, our blood?” The furrow between Naomi’s brow deepened. “You mean they’ve actually tried to transform themselves?”

“They haven’t tried, Naomi,” Pru said. “They’ve succeeded.

And I wish I could tell you that the people of Leora saw them as monsters, but I watched firsthand as an entire city embraced them.

The Faith has taught them to believe. I was almost convinced myself until I saw that one of the thieves we used to run with had turned.

And these Zeraphel, they don’t seem to remember their lives before the transformation.

It’s like Hale’s got them caught in some sort of mind prison. ”

“We have to fight back against these pricks, Naomi.” Florence looked ready to take off, to hunt Hale down and strangle him herself. “The second Hetty gets home, we need to launch some kind of offensive and start—”

“Listen to me.” Pru winced as Florence shot her the most murderous glance she’d ever endured.

“Hale isn’t the kind of enemy you just take on.

I fought a Zeraph in Welling, and he nearly killed me.

Yes, at the end of the day, they’re men, but they are dangerous.

Besides, we don’t need to reveal ourselves just yet.

The people of Leora could surprise us all, who knows? ”

“Me,” Florence barked. “I know. The longer we do nothing, the more women out there suffer. You know what it is we do, right? I’ve peeled men’s faces off. I’ve scalped them. Cut out their entrails and held them up in front of them as they’ve died.”

Beside her, Puck heaved a little.

“If you want to join us, you better have a stomach for fighting. For killing . If you came up here to simply hide, you’re in the wrong—”

“ Enough. ” Naomi’s shout rang off the walls and inside Pru’s skull, a small taste of the banshee’s true power.

“Emotions are high. We all grieve the loss of Imogen, Florence, not just you.” Her lips quivered a little.

“But we came here to talk about Mr. Reed, who seeks to stay with us and who is, in my opinion and by his daughter’s hesitant account, a bit of a suspicious character. ”

Pru waited for Puck to spring up out of his seat and roar her down.

Instead, he bowed his head in shame. Pru didn’t dare turn around to look at Beatrice, who was silent as she’d ever been.

She wondered what kind of “hesitant account” Bea had given—what she’d told Naomi about her mother’s final days.

Even Mari, who could vouch for him better than anyone, didn’t say a word. It was as if she was terrified to speak for a man, that it might damage her rapport with the Ladies, and she didn’t dare isolate the women who could give her the answers she craved.

“He’s the best man we could ask for,” Pru found herself saying. “The kind of man we wish all Leoran men could be.”

Naomi squinted at her. “What do you mean by that, Miss Merriweather?”

She turned to Puck, who’d lifted his head to look at her. His eyes narrowed, like he couldn’t tell what she was about to say.

Don’t look at him. You look at him, you’ll choke.

She took a steadying breath and continued.

“I didn’t know what it meant, to be loved by Puck Reed.

Not until I left searching for something better.

And you know what? It took me two years to realize I’d made a big mistake, leaving him.

” Here we go. “By the time I figured it out, the embargo was in place and I couldn’t get home. ”

Mari sucked in a breath. Puck made a choked noise, some combination of a hiccup and a gulp.

“By the time I finally made it back, he’d found your mom, Bea.

I saw them together in the market just a few days after my ship docked.

See, she was smart enough to see what a gift it was, being loved by him.

She could see he’s the kind of man who would …

” Don’t look at him, don’t look at him, don’t you dare look.

She could feel his gaze burning a hole in her neck.

“Who would do anything she needed him to do, regardless of how much it might hurt him to do it. She knew he’d be the kind of father to protect his daughter, even if it meant losing his own life. He’s extraordinary like that.”

Finally finished, she turned away from Puck and looked back at the Ladies. The looks on Rita’s and Naomi’s faces had both softened, the suspicion giving way to understanding. Florence, it seemed, didn’t have room for anything outside of grief and rage.

Cressida kept her eyes fixed on Puck, staring at him with something Pru thought might be admiration—and perhaps a little envy. Not of Puck, Pru realized, but of Beatrice, for having a father who loved her.

“So,” Pru finally said, desperate to break the silence. “Will you let him stay? So he can keep being a father to this incredible little girl?”

Naomi didn’t say anything. All she did was nod.

Puck’s shoulders relaxed, and he leaned back against the couch and took a breath.

His eyes met hers, and something shifted once more between them.

She knew she could never make up for the last twelve years, that there was no apology for abandoning him without warning.

But if she couldn’t make amends, then this was the next best thing.

“Can I …” Beatrice chirped. “I mean, would you Ladies mind if … could I talk to Puck, please?”

Naomi wiped the tears from her cheek. “Of course, dear. Why don’t you show him your chamber?”

Puck readied himself to stand, then stopped, placing his hand on Pru’s knee. “We’ll talk later?”

Suddenly, it was hard to breathe. “Of course.”

It wasn’t until after he left that Mari glanced over at her and mouthed Hurt him and I’ll kill you .

“All right, Prudence, enough about Bea and her father!” Rita said with a clap. Power surged up and down her spine as if to wake her up. “Tell us about you .”