Page 27 of The Hearth Witch’s Guide to Magic & Murder (The Hemlock Saga #1)

Avery

Avery hadn’t quite known what to do at the sound of the sirens at first. She was startled from her sleep, having managed to drift off only a few hours prior.

She jolted out of bed, reaching for the cane sword that was nestled under her pillow.

Bleary-eyed, but not without speed, she drew it on nothing, holding it on guard for a few sleepy seconds.

Her arm went slack as she realized that she was alone, and after a few hard blinks, she sheathed the rapier blade.

Her silvery-white curls sticking out at all angles, she shambled her way to the window, half leaning on the cane as she did.

She peered out and saw a bright yellow vehicle, rimmed with a strange green checkerboard pattern.

She pressed her face against the cold glass, peering through the dreary gray weather to catch sight of the writing.

She had to squint through the haze and raindrops before she made out the word AMBULANCE.

Someone must have been hurt.

With curiosity as both her greatest ally and antagonist, she got dressed.

Her hair was still a bit of a mess, even after running her fingers through it several times, and her shirt was off by one button.

She pulled on her boots and struggled with her coat, her arm catching in the sleeve.

She flailed and fell against the wall before wiggling it through.

A splash of water on her face, and she was out the door, careful to walk down the steps so as not to make them creak and potentially wake her neighbor on her day off.

Avery paused at Saga’s door. Should she knock? This was not, after all, technically part of the case. It was likely not the case at all. It could be an accident or even a false alarm. Though the possibility that Avery had been awoken by a false alarm left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Still, it was early and unlikely that Saga had had a chance to talk with her family about yesterday’s…unfortunately shocking news. The woman had not yet accepted her offer, and there was a very real possibility she wouldn’t.

Avery surprised herself as a small pang of disappointment hit her at that thought. She’d barely spent even a full day with this woman, and she was already feeling discomfort at the idea of her absence.

This would not do.

Perhaps it would be best if Saga rejected her offer. Clearly, her isolation in prison had greatly increased her sensitivity toward companionship, and she’d formed an unnatural attachment in far too short a time. It was unsafe. Putting distance between them would undoubtedly be the best option.

She took a few steps back from Saga’s door and made her way outside, pulling up the collar of her coat to shield herself from the morning air.

It was no longer raining, but the slick surfaces of anything not protected by an awning made it clear that the weather had only just abated a short time ago.

She walked along the opposite sidewalk, peering at the commotion a few doors down from a safe distance.

There was a small crowd of early-morning onlookers, and she blended in easily.

Avery watched two men in uniform load a stretcher into the ambulance, the figure atop it shrouded with a white cloth. Something was wrong.

She caught sight of a woman who matched Saga’s description of Leigh Hudson.

She was standing with her arms wrapped around a child no older than three or four.

She looked distressed, her face streaked with tears and contorted occasionally to remain placid rather than give in to the sobs that shook her form.

Everything stopped. Avery could hear nothing but her own heartbeat. Her breath caught and she watched as Leigh handed off the child to another woman—another woman who was not Saga—and followed the two uniformed men to the ambulance.

Who was under that sheet? Fates, who was under that sheet?

Then a familiar figure came into view.

The third man in uniform was standing by the steps leading up to the building’s door. And on those steps sat Saga, a blue blanket wrapped around her shoulders as she held a strange clear mask over her mouth and nose.

Avery felt her chest relax, and she gasped for a breath of air. Relief mixed with trepidation. Something was very wrong, and yet not as wrong as she had initially feared.

Distance be damned.

Avery moved across the street without a second thought, weaving around the parked ambulance to approach both Saga and the uniformed man with caution, catching the end of their conversation.

“Your vitals are normal, but I would recommend you come down for a full examination.” He removed something from around her bicep and held his free hand out for the clear mask, which appeared to be attached to some kind of tank.

Saga surrendered the mask and shook her head. She seemed so distant, like a creature caught between two planes of existence and not fully present in either. “I’m fine.”

Avery knew she was anything but fine.

The man nodded and moved past Avery to talk to Leigh. She caught a few words about the logistics of Leigh riding in the ambulance with them, but noting that this information was not relevant to Saga’s condition, Avery ignored it.

Saga didn’t see Avery approaching, but the sentient void beside her did.

A large black cat arched his back, the ebony fur standing on end as a guttural growl warned Avery not to take another step toward them.

Saga’s eyes focused as if she were coming out of a trance, flickering to Avery before raising a hand to smooth down the cat’s fur and soothe him to sit back down. “It’s okay, Riddle. Avery’s a friend.”

The word “friend” encouraged Avery to step a little closer.

The creature’s bright golden eyes did not waver, but the growling ceased, and he did sit back against Saga once more.

Avery noted the way the cat’s tail swished back and forth in an agitated manner and the unimpressed expression he leveled at her, but she pointedly ignored his warning. “Are you hurt? What happened?”

“I passed out.”

Avery glanced from the building behind her to the open ambulance doors where she could still see the shrouded stretcher. “Who…?”

“My grandmother.”

Shit. Had their talk incited an altercation? Was it an accident or intentional? It would not have been the first time heightened emotion invoked unintended consequences in powerful casters. “Are you well?”

“No.”

There was comfort in her blunt honesty. It was a rare thing in those so clearly enveloped with shock and grief. Yet it was becoming more and more apparent that rare things were a rather common trait in Saga Trygg.

“You spoke?”

Saga looked so small and lost under that blanket. “I tried.” She was sounding farther and farther away. “We argued. She wanted to stop talking about it and then she…” She took a shuddering breath. “Oh Goddess, what if I killed her?”

Avery ran her tongue along the edge of her teeth nervously. It wasn’t evidence, but it did at least abate any idea that Saga had done anything intentionally. “Why would you say that?”

“I should have asked Leigh instead. Mamó had been complaining about heartburn, her best friend had just died, I know stress increases the risk of heart attacks, why didn’t I just ask Leigh instead?”

Heart attack, seemingly non-magical causes.

Yet Saga’s grandmother had been close friends with Eira Goff, who had also passed from heart failure, and while the connection was unlikely, Avery knew never to dismiss anything as mere coincidence.

Still, there would be time to investigate later. “This wasn’t your fault.”

“No, but I’m hardly blameless.”

An autopsy would undoubtedly prove that statement to be merely an attempt to find control in a time of grief. Avery carefully lowered herself to a crouch so that their gazes met, hoping this simple action would help ground Saga in the moment. “Do you need to go with the ambulance?”

Saga’s eyes welled up and she shook her head. “Leigh’s with them. Reza is going to meet her at the hospital. I—” Her voice caught in her throat. “I don’t want to see the body again.” Her voice was tighter now, the sound much thinner.

Avery stood looking at the ambulance, which was now packing up with Leigh inside. She reached out her hands in an offering to Saga to help her to her feet.

This gesture, however, was misunderstood, and Saga took the woman’s hands to help pull herself up into an embrace. Her arms clutched around Avery, and she buried her face in the fabric of the taller woman’s shirt and coat.

To say it caught Avery by surprise would be an understatement.

The shock of the touch felt like a burn that seeped through her skin to the bone.

She couldn’t remember the last time she was touched at all with affection, let alone held.

Nightmares were not without the illusion of physical contact, but they were attacks, never comfort.

Not even for a moment. That she could feel anything that did not need to be deflected or healed was a new pain all its own.

Saga was sobbing into her, wailing. A sound, though muffled by fabric, that resonated and shattered the soul. Heartbreak did not require overture or context—it transcended circumstance and uprooted like-feelings in any who stood witness to it.