Page 6 of Icy Heart, Empty Chest
“Not to toot your own horn, but you’re one of three witches I’ve ever heard of that is powerful enough for that spell. There’s a handful of other witches in town. None of them have your strength. You’d have to drive four to five hours in any given direction to find someone else.”
A ghost of smile crossed her face. “You always were a clever one.”
I inclined my head in thanks. “So, we’ve established that there is a heart and you’re the only one that is powerful enough to take it out. I don’t know what you got in return but this is how much the buyer is willing to fork over for the heart.”
I pulled a folded piece of paper from my pocket and slid it across the table to her.
She took the paper from me and opened it. I couldn’t discern whether or not she was impressed with the sum. Her poker face was unrivaled.
“You never said what the buyer would do with it, should they get it,” she replied silkily, putting the paper flat.
“My source says the potential buyer is a children’s cancer doctor.” I shrugged. “Seems like they want to cross some magical boundaries. If that truly is their profession, then everything they are doing is off the reservation anyway.”
Doctors had a strict code of ethics and research. This would be, at minimum, cross-species experimentation, and likely under vetted or not vetted at all by any research board.
She nodded. “Those children at the hospital are too scared to mix magic in with their precious antibiotics and infusions.” It took a second to figure out that the “children” she spoke of were full-fledged adult doctors.
“Well, if that’s true, then you get an investment into your interests anyway.”
She picked up the piece of paper and looked at the monetary sum again.
“Say I tell you that this heart isn’t for sale, that the owner may come back to get it.”
“I would say, depending on how long it’s been out, gods only know for what reason, they’ll have to come back for it eventually. If they haven’t in that time, do they even want to live?” I countered. “I’m going to take an educated guess and say that it’s been out for a while, or I doubt you would have even continued to entertain this.”
She didn’t say anything but kept her eyes pinned on me. Come on, Cora, drive it home.
“Look, if it’s been out over a year, what use is it even putting it back in? We have a buyer. It’s going to help kids with cancer. What’s stopping you from saying yes right now?”
She steepled her own hands in front of me. “The fact that the owner could want it back.”
“That is true. Have they given you any inclination since they got it taken out when
they’d want it back?” I argued.
“No.”
“Wouldn’t you much rather be rid of it and be richer by a lucrative amount? I mean, if I heard about it, what’s to say someone wouldn’t try to steal it from you? We both know how valuable it is.”
She looked at me indignantly. “Do you have any idea how diligently warded this house is? They can try.”
I shrugged. “It’s up to you, Filla. I saw the amount; this is a good deal for what amounts to unclaimed property.”
She looked me in the eyes. “You know, with your talent, you’re absolutely wasted doing this.”
It wouldn’t be a trip to Filla’s without a couple of bon mots about my unused aptitude but twenty minutes later I was making my way across town to see Finneas with a deal. Unbidden, a flashback came to me. Me and him, Damien. We were eighteen. Barely speaking. None of the ease and warmth we used to have. Mostly strangers with old memories. Till he sent me a note. Except it wasn’t him that showed up. But he himself had hauled me out of the lake. I was coughing up water, shaking, soaked to the bone. The frustration pealed its way out of me. Traitor, I called him. Asked him what he was playing at, let me go, don’t ever touch me again. I remember grabbing my lunch and backpack, slinging it on my sodden clothes and stomping off. The lake water’s cold April touch extinguished what was left of the fire inside, and I let out a sob, turning onto the road where my bike had been locked, next to his, as always. I got out to the main road furiously pedaling toward my house. I saw Filla on the sidewalk and moved my bike down to the main road to makeway for her. My mother always had a healthy respect and fear for that witch. I never really knew why. Her very posture suggested intimidation. She cocked her head at me slightly, waving a finger. Suddenly, my clothes and hair were dry. The only water left was leaking out of my eyes. I nodded a watery thank you to her and she continued on her way with her coffee.
I shivered as I continued on. Speak of the devil and the devil will appear. I actively tried not to think of Damien. The most childish part of me would harp on about the fact that his father nearly killed my own. Besides, he had stopped talking to me. He had no right to get all smiley at me, flash all his white teeth. The chip on my shoulder reappeared. I tried to shake it off as I talked with Finneas but man, letting go was not my strong suit.
CHAPTER 3
Damien:I need your help. Can you meet me?
That was not the text message I was expecting to get. It was 3pm on Monday, a week later than my meeting with Filla. I was out at six, as usual. I stared at my phone, not sure what to respond.
History told me that trusting him or working with him was a phenomenally bad idea. I thought about not replying but he knew where I worked and whatever it was was likely better handled in private. Anything with him or his family would leave a bad taste in my mouth. I could hold a grudge like no one’s business. In the end, curiosity won out.
I’m out at 6pm. Where do you want to meet?
