Trembling slightly, Eli held out her frost blade. A dark stain marred one side.
Circinae tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “The human world cannot harm your blades.”
“I brought you a fleck of blood, the witches’ paint,” said Eli. She held the knife closer to Circinae so she could inspect it.
Circinae recoiled and pushed Eli’s arm away. “Filthy girl! Bringing the blood of another witch into this house!”
“We can use it —”
“That stain will never come out! You have no idea what you’ve done. I should drag you before the Coven and have them feed you to the Heart.”
Eli was banished to the forest for a few days, and when she returned, Circinae said nothing about the witch blood, nothing about the magic that would never be compatible with her own. Witch blood is antagonistic to other witch blood.
Had she known that the blood contaminating her daughter was the blood of the Heir? Did she suspect then the freedom Kite had planned for Eli?
Not long after, Eli was sent on her first assassination.
Fifteen
Eli’s eyes flooded with black. Her blades began singing, calling for death. She forced her hands still, even as she calculated the distance between herself and the ghost (five metres) and the number of movements she would need to kill it (three). An electrical current hummed through her body. She could feel the Hedge-Witch’s gaze.
“You tell me that no one may enter here armed,” said Eli evenly. “Yet ghosts can be wielded as a weapon. Explain.”
“No,” said the Hedge-Witch.
“If you want my help —”
“We will make a trade,” announced the Hedge-Witch. “I am not trying to trick you.”
Eli snorted.
“A deal, as is our custom,” the Hedge-Witch continued. “If you harm one of our members, there will be no deal.”
“Does it follow your commands?”
The ghost moved past Eli, not even looking at her. Eli could feel the slime of rotting magic brush her skin as it passed. Fortunately, she was used to these things and barely experienced a gag reflex anymore. She watched its every step. It said nothing, simply joined the group at the other side of the café and quietly took a seat. It cast no shadow. Not even a very strong ghost, then.
“When he chooses to. He is one of us, not a thing or a pet.”
They think the ghost is a person, Eli realized, the sickening feeling growing in her stomach. She had encountered ghost fanatics before — the ones that swore they had souls or consciousness. Some radical young witches even hypothesized that they were a newly evolved form. These crusaders had never seen a ghost before, never seen the destruction they caused, never felt that painful absence of life, like a wound in the world, whenever one was nearby. A rip in space. A vacuum.
Clearly this witch outcast believed the tales and thought the ghost was her friend or ally. It would have been simpler if they believed the ghost to be a dangerous tool. Eli let her darkness drain from her eyes, and the vision of magical tendrils straining toward the sucking emptiness of the ghost vanished. She turned to the Hedge-Witch with her palms up, empty. A sign of peace, of tentative trust. The Hedge-Witch nodded.
“What’s the trade?” Eli asked, intentionally relaxing her stance.
“All business, isn’t she?” someone commented.
“I thought you said she was fun,” complained another.
“How did she trick you into giving her your keys?”
Eli kept her eyes locked on the witch’s. The witch’s pupils shrunk into narrow slits, quivered, and then expanded, mixing with the milky whiteness of her eyes.
“You help us, and we help you,” the Hedge-Witch told her.
“That’s not enough.”
“I can’t tell you the assignment until you’ve joined us. It’s … sensitive information. But if you agree to work with us, then we will get you back to the City of Eyes.” Her eyes glittered, and the edge of her mouth twitched. “We know you’ve been trapped here.”
Thanks to Cam, she thought, cursing herself for thinking violence was her only currency, when information could be so much more valuable.
She could be lying, but Eli didn’t think so. For all the Hedge-Witch’s bold talk, she was desperate for her aid, and there was power here, she could feel it. There was also the matter of her unfinished assignment. Circinae’s words rang in her head. Finish what you started. But Eli needed more information before she decided what to do, and what to tell the Coven. She wouldn’t kill another human. This group could help her find the answers she needed.
And if they could get her home? It was worth the risk.
Eli ripped out three strands of hair, spat on them, and offered the dirty handful to the witch.
“It’s a deal,” she said.
The Hedge-Witch smiled now but only with her teeth, and Eli could see that she had sharpened her canines. Eli’s respect for her rose. The witch offered her own hair and saliva, and when their hands met, their joined cells sizzled, shedding white sparks like static electricity.
“It’s a deal,” the witch agreed.
The atmosphere in the room changed visibly: bodies relaxed, held breaths releasing in a gust of stale air, arms and hands touching each other as the companions nestled closer around the table. Drinks were poured and muffled laughter was heard. Eli could feel the magic tendrils curling back on themselves and resting. The threat had passed.
Eli felt no such relief. She had made an ally of a ghost, offered her services for sale like a common mercenary, and broken so many rules she had lost count. She was either the most ingenious assassin that was ever made or the biggest idiot in the worlds.
“Eli! Over here!” Cam was waving her over.
Well, there was no going back now.
Eli crossed the floor and sat down on the comically small section of bench that Cam had saved for her. No one else spoke to her, but they stared, and there were whispers. Eli could deal with that. She kept her face angled away from Tav.
“See? I told you everything would be fine.” Cam poured her a beer. Eli didn’t usually drink on the job, but she felt like she’d earned it.
“Right. Perfectly fine. No problems or potential deaths.” Eli took a long swig, spilled some down her shirt, and wiped her face with the back of her arm. “Thanks for warning me.”
“Sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry at all. “Protocol. Also, I’m pretty sure I’ve been hexed into keeping silent. I’m not sure — I’ve never tried to break the oath.”
“The one you took for this group or for the Coven? Or was that just a cover story?”
“The Coven doesn’t make humans take oaths,” said Cam. “It suggests we could be out of their control. Usually a healthy dose of fear and a few crumbs of magic keep us in line.”
“But not you.”
“I’m special.” He winked.
“Not your average Uber driver.”
“Few of us are. Cab drivers, too. Great position for espionage.”
“Now why didn’t I try that?”
He topped up her drink. “You’re too stabby for a permanent stealth position.”
“Stabby?”
He made wild stabbing gestures with his free hand. “You know, all those fighting things you do.”