He watched Jessamine’s nose scrunch. “A… budgerigar?” she asked.
“The parakeet?” The woman looked at the two of them, clearly becoming more confused by the minute. “Or are you here for some other reason?”
He noted that her voice deepened on the second question. There was a warning in that tone.
So, there was a backbone in this woman, even if she was fragile in appearance.Thiswas the witch he had expected to see. He was far more inclined to help her if there was a bit of evil inside her, after all.
“May we come in?” he asked.
Her hand tightened on the door. “I’m afraid not. I don’t know who either of you are, and I don’t have a habit of letting strangers into my… private abode.”
He allowed some of his power to seep out of his skin. He could feel it crackling in the air around them, raw magic that was so tempting to any witch. Her pupils blew out the moment she felt it, and then he leaned down so he could look her directly in the eye. “You’re the one who summoned me, witch. No one denies a god entry.”
There went all the blood in her face. Just gone. Leaking out of her flesh to make space for the fear that sent her heart thundering in her chest. He could almost hear it, the rabbitlike thumps of a creature who knew they were standing before a predator. And he would like nothing more than to clamp his jaws around something soft and fragile.
Jessamine’s hand pressed against his back, and the two of them entered the house before they made even more of a scene. The witch before them stumbled back as she tried not to touch him.
The room beyond was pretty and quaint. There was a small hearthin the corner, more plants growing on every surface that could hold them. She had a strange metal contraption hanging from the ceiling where she’d attached her copper pots and pans. A cozy chair in the corner had been patched with multicolored fabric, but it seemed a stylistic choice, as there were no worn bits and all the patches were rich and colorful.
And then there were the birds.
Some of them were massive, with long orange beaks. One for every color of the rainbow. Their feathers glimmered like sapphires, emeralds, rubies, and pearls. Others he could have grasped in one hand, they were so small. And there were easily a hundred of them, if not more.
He ducked as one of them flew too close; the witch made a sound of worry, as though he would kill the little beast. Frowning, he looked up and saw they were surrounded by multiple levels of birds on roosts above their head.
“Birds?” he muttered, sidestepping another one that dove out of the air and seemed to make a beeline for his head.
“Birds,” Jessamine replied, but there was wonder in her voice. “You’re Lady Elissa Burnham, aren’t you?”
The witch sagged against her door and seemed incapable of response.
“You know her?” he asked.
“Everyone knowsofher. She’s a very exclusive bird breeder. Nearly all the nobility I have met have one of her parrots. They’re prized possessions, and surprisingly long-lived for creatures like this.” Jessamine’s dark eyes widened as she looked back at the woman. “Are you all right?”
He turned to find that the bird witch had slid down the door until her bottom reached the ground. Under the weight of his gaze, she rolled onto her knees and pressed her face against the floorboards, prostrating herself before him.
Oh, this disappointing witch was going to be the death of him. “Elissa, what seems to be the problem?”
“Glorious Deathless One,” she cried out, her voice shaking with emotion. “Most powerful of your siblings and giver of magic. You honor mewith your presence, and I humbly offer my mind, body, and soul in your service if you but grant me one wish.”
Jessamine met his unimpressed stare, and he shrugged while rolling his eyes. “Witch, I have accepted your sacrifice. You may ask anything of me.”
Her only response was to mutter continued supplications and prayers as though she hadn’t summoned the god she was looking for.
Another bird dove toward him, and he ducked yet again. Before he could even think about the words, he muttered, “If one of these birds shits on me, I’m going to kill them all.”
That seemed to do it. The witch on the floor froze, and then looked up at him with big, sad eyes. “Please don’t do that.”
“I will have little choice.”
“I beg of you, god of my mother, have mercy.”
“God of your mother…” he repeated, before crouching in front of her. With his arm braced on his leg, he tilted his head to the side and really looked at her. “Your mother was one of my coven?”
“Well, my great-great-grandmother, who passed on much of her power throughout the lines of women in my family. She was your devout follower until the day she died. She believed you were not dead, not like the others. And that someday, you would come back to save us all.” Elissa looked a little uncomfortable. “My mother gave me the remains of her power, but I am not a true witch. I have no coven. And I… bottled it.”
“So that’s how you knew the words,” he muttered, drumming his fingers on his knee before he stood. “Your great-great… maybe another great… grandmother. Who was she?”
