14. Svítilna

fourteen

“I’ll retrieve the memory of the event in question.” Lou’s blue-green eyes faded to a hazy white fog, glowing from a light within. The effect was eerie but not unfamiliar. Darkly’s eyes did the same thing—almost. Where Lou’s gleamed with that ethereal warmth, his would smoke and cloud with a wickedness that called to Milla’s Way. “And play it in its entirety. You project the image onto the mirror for the room to witness.”

“Like a camera obscura?” Maddox asked, shifting their weight from foot to foot. Sparks danced across their fingers, the only show of any nerves. Lou nodded, a tiny smile easing her expression. “I think I can do that.”

“Excellent.” Lou shook out her hands and settled on the corner of Constance’s desk, one leg crossed over the other, her back impressively straight. “Give me a moment to recall the memory.” She flexed her right hand and pressed the tips to the side of her head, brows bunching as that fog lamp gleam in her eyes burned brighter. Her other hand she held flat in the air, palm up like she was balancing a tray.

The room held its breath as Lou stepped into her Way. Intent left her lips as a whisper, the same soft sing-song Irish that Darkly used, and a faint glow appeared at the tips of her fingers. The corners of her eyes tightened, and she slowly pulled her fingers away from her head. Shimmering gold strands followed, thin as spider silk, stemming from each finger and weaving into a singular gleaming thread. Lou straightened her arm, curling and straightening her fingers to gather the summoned memory in her hand. As gently as separating egg whites, she dripped it into her waiting palm.

“Press the base of your palm to mine,” she advised in a tight voice. “Form a wall behind the memory.”

Maddox did as she asked, gasping with surprise as the memory flared brighter. The teal and magenta sparks that had danced across their fingers fizzed and spurt, the color glowing brighter and brighter until it matched the gold of Lou’s memory. “I think I get it.”

“Good, now project as you normally would.”

Maddox took a deep breath and, in a low, rasping voice, joined their intent with Lou’s. Breathy consonants danced a subtle harmony with crisp Irish. Light bent around their hands, the svítilna manipulating the physical manifestation of memory into something tangible to their Way. It fanned out from Lou’s palm as light arcs from a film projector, striking against the propped mirror and bouncing back to the opposite wall where it appeared right-side up, Lou’s memory now successfully transformed into a living camera obscura.

The memory began, showing them all a view through a windshield. Mid-century storefronts rolled by, and Milla recognized one of the breweries on Anastasia Island as the car turned.

“She’s running to the bridge.” Darkly’s voice flooded the office. Lou must have turned her head because there he was, dressed in his Enforcer blacks and gripping a tablet. His throat bobbed, and he closed his eyes, looking for all the world like he was about to be sick. “There’s a raw-head that lives underneath.” A beat of silence. “She forgot to feed it today. I can bait it with the Shades, and you’ll see. Even if she’s a—” The screech of tires cut him off. He lurched forward as Lou slammed on the brakes, catching himself against the dash with a locked arm. Whipping his head to the side, he glared at his sister with coal-black simmering eyes. “She’s nae wicked.”

“But to use her as bait…”

“You’ll see.” He worked his jaw, squinting through the windshield. The camera of Lou’s eyeline followed his gaze, fixed on the bobbing black ponytail of the witch in question. “We shouldnae be here.”

“Keir.” Lou’s voice held a warning note. She looked at her hands, gripping the wheel, glanced at her brother, and then back to the road. “You’ll be vulnerable as well.”

He huffed a bitter laugh. “Like you’d let anything happen to me.”

“That’s not the point!” Lou slammed her palm against the wheel. “It’s a needless risk.”

“Aye, but if it’s the only way to prove to you, definitively, that she isnae responsible for that swell we tracked—”

“Baiting a raw-head with a witch suspected of the Forbidden and Foule on Valentine’s Day? Nine rings, Keir, that’s cold—even for you.”

“She’s a clever witch with a terrifying paranoid streak. She’ll be fine.”

“And if the raw-head turns her, what then?”

It was silent for a moment. Darkly stared out the windshield, his eyes darting left, right, left and landing on the same slight figure running on the sidewalk, her ponytail bouncing with each footfall.

“You can bubble the bridge, and I’ll cleave the raw-head,” he finally replied in a voice gone distant and cold. “Both of them.”

The memory played on. Milla watched herself through Lou’s eyes stagger onto the green, pinching her side and bending at the waist to catch her breath. She watched herself run onto the bridge. Watched herself stumble and fall. She saw Darkly send his Shades to trip her, saw them turn her head, saw herself bleeding and terrified, caught in the headlights of an SUV as Darkly yelled out, “Turn the wheel! Turn the fucking wheel!”

In a silence so heavy Milla could hear the blood rushing in her ears, the Elder Witch of the Panhandle Coven and the Third Head witnessed Darkly catching her in his shadows as the raw-head ran past. She saw Lou summoning a shimmering dome and Darkly running at the shield with twin blades of midnight in his hands. He beat against his sister’s shield, yelling for Milla. Yelling for Lou to drop the ward while his Shades crashed against and clawed at the barrier, just as they’d done during her arrest; all the while, the E.R.I.E. app on his phone shrieked at the swell of energy Milla had manipulated into her necro-hex.

At the swells of magick Forbidden and Foule that he was pumping into her demesne.

She watched it all, letting her anger build and bubble. All she could focus on, all she could think was, “ He sent a Horned God-damned raw-head after me .”

He knew.

Just as he’d known what she was from their fourth meeting, he knew she had forgotten to feed the raw-head. He set her up, stacking the deck against Milla, knowing there was no chance in all the hells she’d stay put when her demesne needed tending, and Milla was a gentle tug away from unraveling.

Stay in tonight, aye? He’d asked her. Like he cared.

He baited the damn thing and was willing to let Milla get flayed alive. Willing to take out the raw-head and the progeny it would have made of the Death Witch.

What a Horned God-damned asshole.

A long, silent beat passed. And another, before Dina blew out a breath and chuckled. “Well, that’s rather inconclusive.”

“How so?” Natje challenged. “My client was clearly attacked by C.R.O.W. agents and utilized her Way in self-defense.”

“The Elder and Younger Simmons acted within their rights as Aural Insurance Adjusters. It is their charge to secure the Staid world from witches with Ways Forbidden and Foule, but the question remains, what is her Way?” Dina steepled her fingers, blinking wide innocent eyes at Natje. “As it appears to me, neither you nor the eyewitness account has concluded whether or not the guilty in question is indeed a wicked witch. Until the question is answered, she must remain under coven custody until extradition can be arranged.”

Milla’s heart lurched. She jerked toward Natje, who was half-risen in her seat, cheeks uncharacteristically flushed.

“Given testimony via Soul Projection,” she stated, cold as a German winter, “a Soul-bound memory from a Light Witch no less, cannot be considered faulty or misleading.”

“I am not arguing that point,” Dina returned. “But the angle from which Agent Simmons viewed the events and the clouding of her own efforts to seclude the Staid from these acts obscure the truth of the intent.”

“Then call the other witness.” Natje waved a hand over her shoulder, a flippant gesture considering Milla’s life was on the line. “Subpoena a mortal, or whoever you deem capable of giving testimony. There is no precedent in C.R.O.W. regulation for detaining a witch on suspicion alone.”

“And yet clear and undeniable innocence is required to cleanse the guilty of her accusations.” Dina shuffled the papers and shook her head, the dismissal was obvious, the disregard. Natje was arguing a failed point. C.R.O.W. had already decided her fate, just as they had decided that she was forbidden and foule, a witch not worth investing time or effort into. She was wicked, her Way was weird, and she was a thing to be scrubbed out and forgotten.

It was only a matter of time, she supposed. Two borrowed years after the ritual at Lake Pontchartrain. That she’d made it this long without bringing down the hammer of C.R.O.W. ought to be considered a miracle.

The only truly confusing part of this was that she’d been caught out by the raw-head and not all the wildly wicked magick she’d used at the Fountain of Youth.

“This is not the only matter of importance to the Tribunal, Mistress Tage. Neither I nor the First and Second Heads have the time to waste waiting for a witch to answer our summons. Despite Agent Simmons’ illuminative testimony, the fact remains that she was too far away for a conclusive ruling to be made with the evidence provided.”

“We do have a secondary witness,” Lou said, drawing the room’s attention. She spread her hands, and her head tipped toward the shadows occupying a corner of the room. “Willing to give his testimony immediately.”

She gestured toward the gloom, and in the stretch of her arm, Milla knew what lurked in those shadows. She stiffened, clenching her jaw and fighting to keep her expression blank. Natje gently squeezed her knee, half in support, half keeping her in the chair as shadows peeled from the walls to puddle on the floor, and Darkly stepped into the room.

He looked like shit.

Haggard and pale, in a three-piece suit that had no business fitting him so well. His cheeks held a hollowness beneath their stubble, and his jaw cut sharper than she remembered. Or maybe it was the ill-advised haircut. The thick auburn waves she had run her fingers through were gone, and his clean-shaven scalp only drew attention to his lowered brows and dark glower.

But even this wraith-like appearance could not diminish the presence that was Darkly. Instead, it lent the witch a dangerous air. The dimple was traded for a hard jaw, his easy slouch replaced by a straight, determined stance.

Rhett gasped at the sudden arrival of a Dark Witch, and Maddox slapped a hand over their mouth to stifle a scream. Lou only rolled her eyes and muttered, “So dramatic.”

Darkly ignored them all, dropping the weight of his gaze on Milla and Milla alone. His lips parted, but no sound came out. A shadow peeled away from the swirling mass at his feet, stretching across the floor toward her chair. She hugged the Banker’s Box to her chest to keep from throwing it at his face and kicked out, shooing the shadow away before it could wrap around her ankle.

What right did he have to touch her with his Shades? To attempt to soothe her, or comfort or claim her when the whole reason she was in this mess was his fault?

His glower darkened, and Darkly redirected his attention to Dina and Constance. The Elder Witch watched him with a shrewd smile, her quick eyes taking in the brief exchange with Milla. Or rather, his reaching out and her shutting him down. Something like amusement sparkled behind her glasses, and she shook her head, covering her smile with a hand.

“Agent Simmons,” Dina greeted him brightly. “What a treat to see the two of you at once.”

“Third Head.” He nodded curtly.

“I understand you were the agent assigned to the St. Augustine case. Is there anything you wish to share before we begin?” Darkly worked his jaw and flexed his fingers before crossing his arms at his back, both hands tightly fisted. “I see.” Dina flipped open the file, making a show of sorting through the reports. “And what is the nature of the guilty’s Way?”

“Vestic,” he stated.

Dina looked up at him without raising her head, patiently waiting for Darkly to continue. When he did not, she chuckled and turned to another page. “I would like to revisit the conversation in the car before the events on the bridge if that is alright.” Darkly nodded. “I’m sure you saw what your sister shared while haunting us from the shadows. Do you need any priming to recall the day?” He shook his head. Dina finally looked up, frowning at him as if his silence was a personal insult. “Very well, let us begin.”

“Objection!”

All eyes whipped toward Natje, seated in her chair with crossed arms. She pointed at Rhett, seething beside the door. His eyes were wide, nostrils flared, and bowtie dancing as his chest heaved. He pointed a trembling finger at Darkly.

“Are you really going to believe the testimony of that—that—”

“Careful,” Milla warned.

“ Witch? ”

Darkly scoffed, sliding his hands into his pockets and regarding Rhett down the line of his nose. “Is that the best you could come up with?”

“He should be cleaved!” Rhett charged between the chairs and slapped his hands on the desk. “He shouldn’t be allowed to live, and you’re going to let him testify?”

Constance drew her lips into a line. Her nails scraped across the desk, but Dina spoke first.

“I do love the younger generation.” She smiled dotingly at Rhett, but it was a serpent’s smile. Close-lipped and narrowed-eyed, hiding the fangs and venom behind a sleek, slippery exterior. “Warriors for truth and sticklers for the law.”

“C.R.O.W. regulation states that a Dark Witch shall be cleaved upon identification.” Spittle flew from the young witch’s lips. He jabbed the desk with a finger. “For all we know, he’s seized Agent Simmons’ Shade and forced her to—”

Lou burst out in tinkling laughter. “Oh, good Goddess, that’s rich.” She grinned at her brother, who dropped his eyes to the floor. Her smile faded, and what was left more resembled a predator baring its teeth in warning than an amused witch. She stepped close to Rhett, looming over him in her heels, and hissed in a low voice, “Do you honestly think C.R.O.W. would allow a Dark Witch to work within their ranks untended?”

Milla hugged her box tighter, wondering over her choice of words. She knew Lou was his handler, but what did “untended” mean? He said he’d needed Milla to get back to his life. Lou had said he’d needed to deliver a Death Witch, which he’d done, so what was this all about?

“I—” Rhett darted his gaze between the Simmons siblings. He licked his lips, taking a breath to argue.

“For Horned Gods’ sake, witchling, sit down before you hurt yourself,” Constance snapped at her assistant. “And next time, deploy one-eighth of that brain of yours before you speak.” Her bangles and beads clacked and jangled as she spun to face Dina. “If word gets out that the Panhandle Coven hosted a Dark Witch, there will be nine rings of hell to pay. Will you accept his testimony?”

“I assure you, his Way is well-tempered and under control,” Lou added with a glare at Rhett. Darkly cleared his throat and slid a hand free to adjust his tie. Milla zeroed in on the movement, her mind running through the implications of that gesture and Lou’s words.

How often had she seen him react like that whenever she came too close to the truth? She’d lost count over those weeks in St. Augustine. Had lost count during their week in Daytona because he’d done it whenever she asked about her demesne or when she could go home. Whenever he was uncomfortable.

So why now? He’d delivered a Death Witch to C.R.O.W. and was still waltzing his stupidly tall body freely around while MIlla rotted in a cell. What in the nine rings did he have to be uncomfortable about?

“I do not doubt that, Agent Simmons,” said Dina. “Let’s get to it. The sooner we’re through this farce of a trial, the better.”

“Objection,” said Natje.

“Triple Goddesses tits.” Dina rolled her eyes. “We’ve been over this already, advoccultant. What on earth are you objecting to?”

“Is this, or is this not, a trial?” Natje cocked her head, the sharp line of her hair bobbing.

“This is most assuredly not a trial.”

The Nachthexe smiled and pointed a finger at Dina. “Then I object to your use of the word ‘trial’.”

“Oh, for—” Dina whipped around in her chair, all but hollering in Constance’s face. “Yes! The tribunal will accept the testimony of a Dark Witch if only to get this circus over with.” She glared at the Elder Witch, then Darkly, then Lou. “Now get on with it.”