Page 78 of The Hearth Witch’s Guide to Magic & Murder (The Hemlock Saga #1)

Saga

What sounded like a distant explosion roused her—or perhaps it was an earthquake. Then a dull pain began in the back of her head—it also seemed far away, but as the ringing in her ears grew louder, the throbbing increased.

Saga turned her head to the side, trying to remove pressure from the intense pulsing sensation.

She nearly choked, inhaling something that initially smelled earthy and mild, but as her senses focused, it soured—like bitter sage.

Then she became aware of the rather intense heat that felt not far above her head, and she tried to crane her neck to look.

She could make out the edges of what she might have guessed was a cauldron, but that was it.

Her vision still unfocused, she blinked, trying to will herself back into the present.

“If someone like me didn’t step in, it would have been someone like the people who turned you away.”

That was Avery’s voice. Saga shifted, trying to sit up, but something held her down. She tried to raise her hand to rub her eyes but that too felt restrained. She blinked rapidly, and as her vision struggled to focus she could make out the vague outline of thick straps across her body.

“And how are you any better, Hemlock? You come here with delusions that you have any idea what I have been through, set to carry out their mission.” That was Bowen.

“You’re responsible for the deaths of three people. Even you must realize this isn’t about us against them.” Avery’s voice sounded strained. Was she also bound? Saga tried to wiggle free.

“Campbell was responsible for those deaths. I merely took care of a murderer. The council should be thanking me.”

“Is that why you killed him?”

“He assured me they’d be safe; showed me his so-called research that he’d been working on for years.

He promised that through the combination of medical science and magic, we could cheat death, eradicate disease, that we could not only use their organs to bring her back but ensure their extended lives as well…

” Something hardened in Bowen’s voice. “But they died anyway, didn’t they?

Slowly, and in terrible pain, and all because of his arrogance.

That was reason enough to rid the world of him. ”

Saga managed to wiggle enough that her fingers felt around one of the leather straps and found a buckle. She pawed at it, trying to get her finger wedged beneath the leather so she could pull it free. Perhaps if Avery could keep Bowen distracted…

The man continued, the anger continuing to rise in his voice.

“But when he found out about the money she’d left him…

Suddenly, he wanted to be more cautious.

Suddenly, he had a conscience, claiming that moving forward would only end in more death.

Suddenly, we were being too hasty, too dangerous.

I tried to tell him that we’d come too far to stop now, but he was a coward.

” She could practically hear the sneer on his lips.

“Insisting there were better specimens, more promising hosts for research. But I’m not looking for a Frankenstein, I want my daughter back. ”

She looked past her feet where she could make out the outline of the man with his back to her. He’d removed his suit jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves. He stood over a fallen filing cabinet.

Saga contorted, able to see that someone was struggling beneath it. Avery. “Wasn’t Saoirse also like a daughter to you?” she called out to the man she’d known as Bowen, but Osian Goff whipped around to face her.

Surprised to see her awake, maybe even uncomfortable, he struggled to answer her as if confronted by his conscience.

“She was,” he said softly. “And not a single day will pass that I will not regret her loss… But if I stop now, Saga, she will have died for nothing.” He took a tentative step toward her.

“I needed her heart. You have to understand if there was any other way, I would have taken it. But Saoirse’s heart carried all the memories of Eira—it’s the key to bringing her back. ”

“Bringing her back to what?” Saga asked, trying not to make it a demand. “Even if you manage to resurrect her without making her a vampire, or a zombie, or worse, what then? She won’t be able to be with her friends or even her son. You’d be condemning her to a life in hiding.”

Osian’s expression was cold as he found his resolve. “Not if she lives on in you.”

Saga felt her body go cold with fear. “Why me?”

“Campbell’s organs were compromised during the harvesting.

” He walked back to retrieve something from the table.

“I was angry and careless, and unsure how to proceed.” He tipped a bottle onto a rag.

“But then, you presented an unlikely solution by making yourself a liability.” He turned around, his face stone still and without sympathy.

“If I use your body for the ritual… She won’t just be back, she’ll be healthy. Young.”

“Even if it does work, how long will that last?” Avery had managed to crawl out from under the filing cabinet. Again she gathered the shadows to her. “You might get another eighty years, but then you’ll be right back here again.”

“Which gives me more than enough time to find another round of suitable donors,” growled Osian. He dropped the rag back on the table and picked up one of the larger scalpels to defend himself.

“You can’t keep death at bay forever, Osian. That’s the beauty and tragedy of mortality—that day always comes. If not today, then on the horizon.” Avery quickly glanced around for something to defend herself. Her eyes rested on the cauldron. If it was light enough to pick up…

Osian followed her gaze and acted faster. “Only a fool would accept that reality. Symudwch.”64 With a simple gesture, the cauldron raised barely enough to not hit Saga in the head, soaring over her toward Avery.

Avery ducked to the side, tripping back over the fallen cabinet.

The cauldron knocked over another one of the cabinets, this time in the other direction which hit another row, sending them crashing against the wall like dominos.

The burning embers and wood spilled over the floor and rained over Avery, who raised the shadow like an umbrella above her, allowing the objects to cascade to either side of her.

“What would Eira say if she knew you were doing this?” Avery cried out. “That you sacrificed her best friend for this? That you nearly killed her son?” When she brought her arms back down to help herself up, she saw Osian standing above her.

The man’s foot came down, planting deliberately on her chest to hold her there. “Children so rarely understand the lengths we go to for them. She may hate me, but eventually, she’ll understand.”

Avery gripped his leg, the shadows wrapping around him as well, trying to push him off, but he merely kneeled down on top of her. Her ribs ached painfully from the weight. “You know she wouldn’t want this.”

“Don’t you dare pretend to know what she would want,” Osian hissed.

“And though my curtain comes to a close, I could not have asked for a finer play,” Saga called out urgently. “I take my final bow with no regrets—those were her words.”

Osian actually hesitated. He looked to Saga, unsure, frightened.

Then his face hardened, and he raised the scalpel, his attention shifting to Avery once more.

“I’m doing you a favor, changeling. I’m ending the excruciatingly long life they’ve cursed us with.

You won’t have to see another soul pass on without you, and you won’t have to live with the regret of knowing how deeply you failed her. ”

“Osian, please stop!” Saga’s voice echoed through the basement. The desperate scream hung in the air, echoing in the chill.

Osian’s hand didn’t move, and for a moment, she thought she might have gotten through to him. But his face contorted, upset. He seemed pained, frustrated. “What’s going on? What have you done to me? Why can’t I move?”

Avery’s eyes widened in realization. “She ordered you to stop.”

The man growled, angry and frustrated, but his body would not obey him. “What is the meaning of this?”

“You violated the law of hospitality, Osian. Saoirse invited you in. You were under her care, she gave you food and drink—and you brought harm to her and her home.” Avery let her head relax back.

She was breathless and giddy in disbelief.

Iona’s words echoed in her mind: The law of hospitality once broken has a way of setting the scales aright on its own.

“So now you are in debt to her bloodline.”

Saga’s eyes widened. “Wait. How does this work?”

“It’s old magic. The only remaining servitude still in effect,” gasped Avery, still under his full weight. “Until you release him from his debt, he has to do what you say.”

Saga exhaled a strangled sort of laugh in relief. “Right. Okay. Osian Goff, I command you to release her, set the knife safely on the floor, and sit against the wall to wait for the police.”

Osian’s internal struggle was apparent on his face as he tried to fight against his own body. It was a futile effort, the bonds of the old magic too ingrained in the blood to disobey. “You will regret this.”

“You’ll be silent until the police arrive too,” Saga commanded.

The man’s mouth clamped shut as he proceeded to move to the opposite wall and sit down like a child in time-out.

Avery unsteadily pushed herself into a standing position once more. She reached into her pocket, producing a thick black ribbon. “Tell him to put out his hands.”

Osian set a glare on Saga that could have melted iron.

Saga craned her neck to meet his gaze, unwavering. “Do as she wants.”

The man’s hands were offered, his wrists together.

Avery wound the ribbon around them, sending energy down the fabric so that it grew with every wrap, creating layer upon layer until at last, she tied it off.

It created a thick cuff around both his wrists, which glowed silver like moonlight.

“Since we both know it doesn’t necessarily take sound to cast,” she said grimly.

The adrenaline waning, her body ached as she made her way to Saga to undo the binding straps.

First the ankles, then the legs and moving up. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m not bleeding,” Saga offered weakly.

Avery released her last binding and Saga sat up enough to throw her arms around her.

Her breathing haggard, she clutched the changeling to her, burying her face in the crook of her neck.

She was shaking. She dug her fingers into the fabric of Avery’s coat, feeling like she might fall over if she let go.

Avery’s arms came around her slowly, cautiously. She was warm, and comforting. “You’re safe now,” she whispered.

Saga wasn’t sure if she’d already been crying, but hearing the assurance caused a sob to choke out of her. The word had never meant so much as it did then. She could have kissed her.

They leaned into each other, allowing their breathing to fall into a rhythm as the adrenaline wore off and exhaustion overtook their limbs.

“Are you hurt?” Saga whispered.

Avery’s arms squeezed her tighter. “I’m not bleeding.” It was quiet, but Saga was certain she could hear the soft smile in her voice.

They could hear a commotion above them. A great number of people filed into the lobby. Reinforcements.

Avery pulled back enough to take a deep breath and shout toward the door to the stairs. “We’re down here!” She admired Saga with a tired, grateful smile. “Miraculously.”

“We make a good team,” Saga reminded her.

“We do…” Avery’s smile faded slightly and she leaned in.

Saga’s breath caught. Was she…?

But Avery didn’t close the distance completely. Her pale eyes scanned Saga’s face, trailing slowly from her left eye, over her nose to her right. “I’ve never realized until now that you have freckles.”

“Oh.” Saga’s face felt hot again. “Makeup usually covers them.”

Avery nodded and smiled once more, wider this time. “I like them. They’re like…sprinkles.”

A startled giggle escaped Saga. It was an infectious sound, which in turn caused Avery to chuckle. Exhausted, feverishly giddy, and grateful to be alive, they leaned their foreheads against each other and laughed.

64 Welsh: Move.