Page 79 of The Hearth Witch’s Guide to Magic & Murder (The Hemlock Saga #1)
Avery
It was September, so in London, it was raining.
A shelter of umbrellas huddled together on the lawn of the City of London Cemetery and Crematorium.
The weather had not deterred anyone, as the congregation of mourners numbered to nearly fifty, all of whom Saoirse had held dear. Even the sunlight poked through the rainclouds insistently, as if it too would not be denied the chance to say goodbye.
Avery stood on the outskirts, close enough that she could still hear the ceremony, but far enough off that she didn’t feel intrusive. She couldn’t see exactly, but she knew which umbrella was Saga’s: sunshine yellow, one of the few with color.
She stood between a stern-looking creature that Avery hypothesized was Saga’s mother—dressed in all black with an umbrella to match—and Leigh, who beneath her coat wore a soft ivory dress to symbolize rebirth.
Detective Inspector Lahiri stood next to his wife with one arm around her, the other holding the umbrella to cover them both.
She could not see either Hudson woman’s face, but she could tell Saga and Leigh were weeping. It was in the way they squeezed each other’s hands, the shuffle of their feet, and the gentle bob of their shoulders.
Two faces she could see from her current vantage point were unexpected: Esteri and Fiore, both fully disguised as humans, stood near the back to pay their respects.
Esteri was also crying. She wasn’t shaking like Saga, but Avery could see the way her face contorted and how she wiped at her eyes with her fingertips.
Fiore reached into their jacket with their free hand, producing a handkerchief for her.
While she had believed Fiore acted differently around Esteri, especially when they thought they were unobserved, Avery had never considered the dragon capable of tenderness. It was oddly comforting, knowing she could still be pleasantly surprised even after forming such a fixed view of someone.
A tall looming figure stepped up to stand beside her. “I read your report,” said Gideon in his usual cold and clipped tone. “You have become rather sloppy.”
“Two hundred years of inactivity will do that to you,” Avery deflected.
They watched the ceremony in silence for a minute.
Gideon cleared his throat. “The council would like to acknowledge that perhaps it was unfair to you to throw you back into society without more preparation.”
“Is that supposed to be an apology?”
“It’s the closest you’re going to get to one.”
Avery cut her eyes at him suspiciously. “I do not suppose anything accompanies this ‘acknowledgment’? A shortening of my probation, perhaps?”
Gideon took a deep breath. “They have decided to permit your partnership with the Hudson witch to continue…for now.”
Her jaw tightened, fighting rising indignation. “Why would that matter be up for debate with the council?”
“Between her lineage and living so apart from our ways for the majority of her life, such an alliance prompted questions and concerns.”
Avery pursed her lips as she focused on the gathering in the near distance. “Would those concerns have anything to do with why a mortal previously living a Mundane life has been granted the gift of True Sight even without her own knowledge?”
Gideon hedged around the question. “There are some that believe this type of companionship would be…unwise.”
“Fiore.”
Gideon shook his head. “They acknowledged the council’s concerns, but ultimately favored the idea. They seem to believe it will help you acclimate to the times faster and mitigate risk of further accidental exposure.”
“I find it more likely they believe it will mean I will leave their wife alone,” Avery muttered.
“Not the worst idea, since it’s generally considered foolish to be on the wrong side of a dragon’s ire, but…” Gideon tsked. “Council members do not bring personal matters to the table.”
“No, of course not,” She nudged him with her elbow. “Which is why I am here because of my incomparable skill as an investigator, knowledge of criminal psychology, and ability to move between the human world and our own.”
The corner of Gideon’s mouth twitched.
Avery faced back toward the funeral. “Does this mean I can expect payment soon? They are pleased with me?”
“You will be paid within the next three days, but ‘pleased’ is a generous descriptor.” The Archfey straightened up to his full height, the rain refusing to fall directly on him. “They are accepting that it will take time for you to get acclimated and up to speed.”
Fates. What more did they want? “I solved this case in a little over a week.”
“So there’s ample time to improve.”
Avery whirled indignantly to face Gideon, only to see the continued hint of a smile on his pale face. She sighed, frustrated that he had been able to get to her. “You always were an ass,” she muttered, relaxing again to observe the funeral a short distance off.
They were lowering the coffin into the ground.
“What is going to happen to Osian?” Avery asked quietly. “Has our system of punishment evolved with the ages, or do our ways remain the same?”
“He’ll stand trial before a magistrate alongside the appointed Justice and Mercy.”
“Murder, conspiracy, and forbidden magic…” Avery shook her head. “Whatever the sentence, I do not imagine it will be a merciful one.”
“You sound disappointed,” observed Gideon. “He showed no mercy to you or your companion.”
“No. And had I the means, I might have killed him for it,” admitted Avery. “But I do think I understood him.”
“Are you suggesting his actions were justified?”
“I never said I agreed with him or condoned his methods. I said I understood him.” Avery shoved her hands deeper into her coat pockets. “With our worlds so separate, changelings have no real place in either… So when we inevitably get attached to humanity…”
“I know,” Gideon sympathized.
Avery glowered at him. “How would you know?”
Gideon didn’t look at her. He didn’t smile. He didn’t even have a hint of mirth or humor about it. “Because that is how I feel about you.”
The admission hung in the air without veil or impediment. It was too sincere to doubt, and too sentimental for Avery to know what to do with it.
Instead, she faced forward again with a soft, restrained smile. “Shut up,” she said gently. “We’re at a funeral.”