Page 72 of The Hearth Witch’s Guide to Magic & Murder (The Hemlock Saga #1)

“Saga, Reese Bowen, I’m sorry I’m getting back to you so much later. I only just had a chance to return your call.”

“Perfectly all right, I know you’re busy.” She honestly hadn’t expected him to call her back so soon. Her mother would still find something to complain about, but at least it wouldn’t be about the missing photo.

“Yes, about that… Look, I’m kind of buried in paperwork today, but if you’re able to swing by the office, I have your grandmother’s photographs.”

Saga checked her watch. It was 2:14 p.m. “That would be great, actually. Where is your office?”

“We’re located in Holborn.”

Saga laughed a little to herself. “Right, I probably should have guessed that.” If it wasn’t going to be the Temple area itself, of course it would be Holborn—both had been historically known for being legal districts, full of law offices and even the imposing Royal Courts of Justice.

“I’m coming from World’s End, but I could probably get there in…

about an hour?” She glanced at Avery, who, having clearly heard her, squinted in concern.

“That should be fine. I’m trying to wrap everything up around four p.m. or so if I can manage.”

He sounded tired, and Saga felt sorry for him.

She wondered if Reza had already obtained the warrant to get the will from him on top of all the other affairs Bowen was trying to get in order for the Goff estate.

The least she could do was take this one small thing off his plate. “Excellent, what’s the address?”

“8 Stone Buildings, London Holborn district—you can’t miss it. We’re right by Lincoln’s Inn Private Gardens. My name is on the building.”

Very fancy. Very expensive. “Brilliant,” confirmed Saga. “I’ll see you soon then. Cheers!”

She hung up and turned back to Avery. “I’m sorry, change of plans for me. I need to get to Holborn to see Reese Bowen.”

Avery looked like she was pouting. “Now?”

“I think it would be best. He isn’t exactly the easiest to get ahold of.

Should probably take my window while I can to avoid any further unpleasantness from my mother.

Well, more than the usual unpleasantness.

Do you want to come with? If Reza has already reached out about the warrant, we may be able to get some information about Benjamin before we talk with him. ”

Avery considered it. “No, I think I’ll try to interview Benjamin as planned, but find out what you can. We can compare notes afterward. I just might need help navigating there.”

Saga checked her watch again. “Let’s walk a little farther to Earl’s Court station. We should both be able to take the Piccadilly. Will only add a few minutes travel time, and it will keep it simple.”

“Are you going farther or am I?”

“I am. And don’t worry, you’ll have the hang of the system in no time. Especially when you’re not trying to unravel convoluted crimes simultaneously.”

“Unraveling convoluted crimes is sort of going to be a constant thing for me, Saga,” Avery reminded as they jogged across a crosswalk.

“Mm,” Saga waved this information off nonchalantly.

They’d gone a few blocks before she spoke again.

“So when you talk to Benjamin, make sure you get a good look at his eyelashes. It can be hard to identify distichiasis unless you’re really close up.

It can range from like a few extra to a full set. ”

“Does that mean you think Carys is right about the relationship?”

“Honestly?” Saga shrugged. “I haven’t the foggiest clue. She could be right that he’s suspicious, but wrong that he’s Eira’s son… But the condition is rare enough that if he does have double eyelashes, it’s pretty much as good as a DNA test right now.”

“DNA?”

“Oh!” Saga realized. “Em… Well, for starters, you’re definitely going to enjoy reading up on that. Simply put, it’s sort of our genetic identity. Like an index in a book. We have tests that can identify you by your blood, or tissue—any part of you that carries DNA.”

Avery’s eyes were wide with delight. “How long have we had this?”

Saga winced. “Um… I know it was discovered earlier, but I think the practice of using it has been within the last fifty years? We don’t have a warrant for his DNA, but if he’s got the lashes, then maybe we can get one and have the lab test it against the blood under Campbell’s fingernails.”

Avery practically bounced as she asked, “We can do that?”

“Well not us specifically, but yes. So. Eyelashes, keep an eye out—though there is a chance if he has it, he’s hidden it.”

“I’ll have the hagstone.”

“No, I mean there are Mundane ways to do it—typically it’s treated by hand plucking the extra row. Just a simple pair of tweezers is all he’d need.”

Avery winced. “That sounds incredibly uncomfortable.”

The metro whirred with a rush of air as the subway cars approached. “Probably is.”

They filed inside with the others and sat together.

“The thing to look for is eyelashes growing out of the meibomian glands,” Saga lifted her upper lid carefully with her fingers and pointed to the incredibly small, barely perceptible bumps that lined the lip of the lid.

“These. So the extra lashes grow from here. See how there’s a gap between my eyelashes and my eye? The eyelashes don’t actually touch?”

Avery moved closer to see. “Yes…”

Saga realized she’d just invited this woman to lean impossibly close to her.

Close enough that she could smell the now-familiar fragrance of orange and clove, tinged with something that she could only describe as the smoke of a freshly blown-out candle.

She’d never been able to work up the courage to ask if this was a purposeful cologne or merely the result of things Avery worked with daily.

She released her eyelid and sat back in her chair, hoping that putting a small amount of distance between them would solve the sudden issue of feeling overheated and uncomfortable.

“This is because the…em…the meibomian glands help lubricate the eyes. As you can imagine, having an extra row of eyelashes grow out of there could potentially cause a lot of problems—including infection. But because it’s so hard to get to, even if he does pluck them, he’d likely miss a few, especially if they’re not causing him any pain or discomfort. ” She cleared her throat. “Got it?”

Avery, oblivious to Saga’s quickened heartbeat and need to distance herself, merely nodded thoughtfully as she leaned back in her own seat. “I think so.”

Perhaps it was the need to seem normal that kept Saga’s mouth spilling out ideas and information. “Of course, he may just use a glamour to hide it. Sounds simpler.”

“It’s possible,” said Avery noncommittally, watching the lights of the tunnel whoosh by through the window. “I’ll be sure to check and not assume I’m seeing anything for what it is.”

“What about what Reza does? The thing I’m not able to see. Does the hagstone help with that?”

Avery shook her head. “No. Shape-shifting is trickier to detect since it changes the actual form of a person. Though, if this condition is a mutation of the human genes like you said, he might not be able to actually change that part of him—assuming he can even shape-shift, that is. Despite the moniker, I don’t know any changelings that can manage it.

” She twiddled her thumbs before asking in a softer voice, “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me? ”

“If I don’t get these photographs, it might be my murder you have to investigate next.”

Avery didn’t laugh, confused.

“Spoilers, it was my mother, in the hall with the candlestick. Though not the good candlesticks, mind you, those are an investment.”

The confusion didn’t depart, but Avery’s eyes slowly narrowed. “I feel like you’re referencing something.”

“Cluedo. It’s a parlor game, and it’s not important.” As they approached Knightsbridge Station, Saga handed Avery the paper with Benjamin’s address. “This is your stop. I’ll see you back at Baker Street?”

Avery hesitated, then nodded decisively. “I’ll call if I find anything.”

***

The walk from Holborn Station was a quick and rather beautiful one that took Saga through Lincoln’s Inn Fields.

The largest public square in London, it was a sight to behold during most of the year.

Saga fondly remembered spring picnics put on by the Sunday Assembly every year in spring or the bountiful color that splashed over the trees and grassy lawn if you managed to make it during the exact right week in October.

It was rather quiet now in the later afternoon.

It was cold for late summer, and only a few others walked the grounds.

Some wore suits—likely those who worked in the offices nearby, going for a walk with what little personal time they could spare themselves—but most looked like students, and there was even a small family of three.

Saga smiled, watching the mother and father bent over, carefully walking on either side of a rather determined toddler whose legs weren’t quite strong enough to fully carry him from one step to the other.

Saga passed the private gardens and at last reached the location simply known as Stone Buildings.

Like many things in the city, they were constructed long ago.

Sometime in the eighteenth century, if Saga had to guess.

They were aptly named as they were constructed of stone.

Part of Lincoln’s Inn itself, the area was a strange mix of history and modern use—housing a few boutique law firms and organizations.

She found the office with relative ease.

Like the others, it was made of old red brick and stone.

She could see through the windowpanes that made up most of the tall black French doors, and a stone square with a numeral 8 inset was embedded on either side.

A small black sign, hardly larger than a desk plate, to the left of the door simply read: Bowen & Associates LLP.