Hexed

on her boot heels. She gathered her hair and tied it back in a knot, talking affably to me as she led me to a bedroom currently doing service as a witch supply closet. » I do hope we’ll get around to signing the nonaggression treaty soon, Mr. O’Sullivan, for despite your uncomfortable questioning when you arrived and your barbaric insistence on walking around with your sword hanging out, I feel we can live and work together peaceably going forward and even prosper, once these current troubles are behind us. «
    That wasn’t English she was speaking: It was the language of diplomacy. » I have no objections to peace and prosperity, « I allowed.
    Malina’s witch closet, in contrast to the décor of her living area, was painted a pale moss green and lined with cedar shelves sporting rows of glass bottles. I tried to find one with something unspeakable in it—a human brain or deer lips or otter balls—but saw nothing but herbs, oils, philtres, and a curious collection of claws from big cats. She had claws from tigers, snow leopards, lions, and black jaguars, as well as cheetahs, cougars, and bobcats. She also had beaks from several birds of prey, but otherwise her supplies were entirely plant-based.
    In the center of the room was a wooden worktable bought from IKEA’s kitchen department. It supported the obligatory mortar and pestle, a knife for chopping, a peeler for tubers, and an electric hot plate she had plugged in via extension cord. I was vaguely disappointed to see she had a regular saucepan resting on the hot plate rather than a black iron cauldron—and even more disappointed that there wasn’t a hapless amphibian in there. A smaller copy of the large painting in the living room hung opposite the worktable; the three Zoryas watched from the walls, waiting to bestow their blessings on Malina’s work.
    » Who supplies your herbs? « I asked. » I could probably be of assistance if you’re having trouble finding something of sufficient quality and freshness. «
    » We get most everything at an herbalist in Chandler, « Malina said, » though I’m sure we’re going to need much more bloodwort shortly if we’re to deal properly with the hexen . Have you any available? «
    Bloodwort was one of many common names for yarrow. Witches used it in some divination spells, but it could also be used in spells of both protection and attack. For my part, I employed it extensively in my apothecary business, including in several proprietary tea blends: Virus Immuni-Tea for the onset of colds and flu, Digestive Facili-Tea for various gastrointestinal ills, and a truly trippy mixture I called Enhanced Visibili-Tea. I made the latter for artists who wanted to see the world differently, because, in sufficient concentrations, yarrow could cause a temporary color shift in the eyes.
    » Sure, I have pounds of the stuff, because I use it all the time. I grow it in my backyard, all organic and very potent. How much do you need? «
    » Three pounds should safely see us through. « Malina nodded. » Could you have someone bring it to us? «
    » Certainly. I’ll send a courier in the morning. You can pay him. I’ll send along a list of my other herbs in stock, too, and another list of what I can grow for you provided that you give me sufficient notice. «
    » Good, let there be commerce between us. « Malina moved over to a shelf near the painting of the Zoryas and looked at an uncorked, unlabeled bottle—also uninhabited by anything that I could see. Sitting next to it on the left, and stretching down the length of the shelf as well as two shelves above it, were jars containing locks of hair with people’s names labeled on the front. All of those people were completely in Malina’s power, whether they knew it yet or not. I felt a twinge of pity for them.
    » It should be here, « Malina said tensely. » The last person to visit this floor was the officer who informed us of Waclawa’s death. « She pointed to the labeled jar next to the empty one. Inside was a lock of sandy hair, and emblazoned on the label in purple ink was the name of Kyle Geffert. » Your hair should have been deposited in this empty bottle here, « she said, then looked up to the air vent through which her air-conditioning was softly blowing. Presumably any hair collected from visitors in the hallway got routed through the ductwork to land in the empty bottles, but nary a red hair from my head was to be found in any of them.
    » What in the name of