Page 11 of The Heartless One
Now, she was little more than a worm beneath their feet.
Elric’s arm coiled around her shoulders and tugged her against his side. “Come on, gravesinger.”
She tried to build confidence around herself. “To find the witch?”
“You are better than every person here. They do not know that magic runs in your veins. They do not know that we are mere steps away from starting a coven of witches who will make them quake under their thin sheets. And they do not know that you have a god at your beck and call.” He leaned down to press a kiss to her temple, lingering against her skin. “They do not know the danger they put themselves in for looking at you as though you are anything less than a goddess.”
Heart racing, she followed him through the streets of gold and silver. More and more people gawked, but that was all right. Eventually, theycrossed into a more residential area where there were less judgmental stares and more people moving about their day.
“Do you know where we’re going?” she asked, her voice catching in her throat.
“I can find a witch anywhere she hides from me,” he replied.
At last they stopped in front of a house. Or a sort of house. In truth, it looked more like a birdcage. Great pillars stretched up and over the structure that was inside the cage itself. Even a small ornament at the top made it look like some giant could pick it up and move the whole thing. A very pretty front garden filled her senses with the strong scent of peonies.
“Here?” she asked, peering through the giant cage at the tiny cottage within. Beautiful, as everything in the Pleasure District was. But entirely unexpected.
“Here,” Elric repeated. “This is where our witch lives.”
The house was not one any witch of his previous coven would have deigned to live in. Those witches were dark and dangerous. They cast blood magic and sex spells. Regular people knew angering a witch resulted in boils, lunacy, and famine. That was the coven of the old days. A coven to fear.
But this house? This was ridiculous. There were bright pink and yellow flowers in front, and they weren’t even poisonous. As he nudged the front gate open and strode into the garden toward thebirdhousethat contained the tiny cottage, he paused.
“What’s the matter?” Jessamine asked as she paused with him.
He was staring at the flowers. He couldn’t stop staring at them, because they were the most ridiculous thing he had ever seen.
Jessamine leaned to look, and the little “oo” in her throat made him want to turn right around. Fuck the witch and her sacrifice.
“Nasturtium! Have you tasted these before? We used to put them in salads at the palace; they’re quite delightful.” She plucked one, lifting it in her hand so she could spin the pretty yellow flower between her fingers before popping it in her mouth. “I wonder if this is where we ordered them from? I know they came from the Pleasure District, but I never paid much attention to the food orders.”
“This is the home of a witch,” he rumbled. “Herbs and plants for spells are understandable. Raising poisonous plants in your garden is an impressive feat for most witches. Not… edible flowers.”
Jessamine gave him a rather saucy look before swallowing. He could smell the peppery tang on her breath and, somehow, it only made him more disappointed.
“Elric, there are new witches now. We don’t all have to murder people.”
He watched her sashay toward the birdcage, and all he could think was that he’d already lost control over whatever coven he might build in this new century.
“Of course you have to murder people,” he muttered, following her through the beautifully made metallic doors and down the cobblestone path that led to the quaint little cottage. “You’re using my magic. Black magic that I have gifted to all of you. It’s death magic, Jessamine.”
“Maybe you can do things you don’t know about, too.” She lifted her hand and tapped her knuckles on the front door of the stone cottage.
It was something out of a storybook. This home was made of stone and rounded walls, and there was vivid ivy growing all over it. The door itself was a glossy brown, and the central knocker on the door was in the shape of a bright gold bee.
Was he hallucinating? Was this part of having a physical body? Perhaps something was wrong with this form and his mind had fractured. Or he’d conjured this moment in his sleep, and he was about to wake up at any moment.
“Coming!” a bright voice sang out from somewhere inside the cottage, and he swore he heard the trill of birdsong.
Nightmare. Definitely a nightmare.
The door eased open to reveal the strangest little being on the other side. She was so small that he almost mistook her for a child. But with that curly mop of hair on her head, she was unmistakably the same woman they had previously seen in the scrying mirror. He just hadn’t realized she would only come up to the center of his chest.
She wore the most ridiculous dress. With hip caps and massive bell sleeves at her shoulders, she looked like a cupcake. A decorated cupcake with chocolate frosting on top.
“You can’t be her,” he muttered, certain that his expression had crumpled into one of complete disgust.
This new witch gave him an odd look before turning her attention to Jessamine. “Are you here to pick up the new budgerigar? It’s quite an unusual color, and I am very proud of its lineage.”
