to put her feet up in the sort of tavern that didn’t ask questions. But what then? She had a plan for Bastien, but what of the witch who’d done the actual spellwork? It would take a little more innovation to get past a conjurer who prospered off forbidden spells. And for that she would need all her strength.
Elena rubbed her palm, reminded of how the touch of Jean-Paul’s hand against hers had heated her blood, making the magic spike. It was true the cold had gotten into her skin after the curse, but she no longer believed, as Madame Grimalkin did, that the affliction had to be permanent. Even thinking about him stirred a curative pulse inside her that sent a warm thread running through the veins. So odd that a mortal could affect her and her magic that way.
Drawn out of thought by the sensation of being watched, Elena took a sip of her gin and scanned the room. A bearded man in a black frock coat and monocle kept looking up, but he appeared to be working on a sketch in his lap. So many witches were drawn to the arts, unable to resist the temptation of seeing their spellwork preserved in paint and charcoal. But he was not the one ruffling her senses. It was another, wearing a broad-brimmed hat pulled low over his eyes. He watched her from a secluded corner by the front windows. He thought he was concealed in shadow because he’d snuffed his candle out, but the weight of his stare on her neck overwhelmed like the panting breath of a dog. Unable to intuit his intentions, she tossed one more coin on the table and walked outside, eager to get home and learn if Jean-Paul had returned. She took two steps in the muddy road before her plans were thwarted.
“It isn’t just cats,” the man in the hat said, catching up to her before the door shut. He proved no taller than a broom handle when he sidled up beside her. He tipped his hat back to reveal a full-moon face and wisps of tawny hair that poked out over his ears. His eyes, a chalky sort of blue, traced the outline of her weakened aura. “Couldn’t help overhearing your conversation in there,” he said as he handed over a business card adorned with moons and stars.
“You’re with the Covenants Regulation Bureau?”
“Inspector Aubrey Nettles. I’m investigating the spate of grim incidents you referred to in there. Thought I might ask you some questions.”
“By ‘overheard’ you mean you used a cochlear charm to listen to a private conversation.”
Inspector Nettles flicked a speck of invisible dirt from his coat sleeve, ignoring her accusation. “Would you mind telling me what your interest is in blood magic?”
“I don’t have any interest in it. I’m simply curious about the dead cats, like everyone else.”
“Yet you seem to think it has something to do with you, mademoiselle . . . ?”
She couldn’t afford to disclose her name. Not yet. “I’m looking for someone, that’s all. I thought they might have passed through the tavern recently.”
She tried to walk away, but the man followed, dogging her heels.
“Like I said, it’s more than cats that are showing up dead.” He had to double-step to keep up. “There’ve been rabbits, squirrels, a badger even. Hearts cut right out of them. Not a drop of blood left in the bodies.” Elena stopped in her tracks. “Ah, so you do know something about the dark arts, then.” The man bared a cold smile, knowing he’d touched on magic she understood. “Not something your average goatherd has reason to be familiar with.”
He was right. It wasn’t common knowledge, by any means. Blood magic was the darkest form of spellcasting, absolutely forbidden by the covenants. Few books even existed that described how it was done. But then Elena was no ordinary vine witch. Her shadow world vision alone was an extraordinary talent, but it had made her all the more curious about the things she couldn’t see. When she’d mastered the divine arts while still in her teens, she sought out the magic she hadn’t been taught. Not to use but to understand. For even knowledge itself was a form of magic in the eyes of the All Knowing. At least that was the argument she’d used on Brother Anselm to gain permission to study The Book of the Seven Stars, the only surviving reference held within the abbey that mentioned blood magic. Even