She spat out that last bit as if I’d proven myself the idiot she thought I was. How was I supposed to have known? It wasn’t like they had law books floating around. Actually, I should probably have checked into that. Maybe they did.
“I gave you your answers. Now give me the potion.” She moved closer.
Hawk stepped in front of me. “I have a question first. Do you know anything about Dread?”
The anger faded from her expression as she glanced about. “No, but I wish I did,” she said softly.
For once, it seemed we might be on the same side.
“Here. You can have it.” I held out the potion. It seemed fair. “If you have any further information, I can supply more.”
She gripped the potion in her hands tighter. “And I’ll get it whenever I want?”
I nodded. “As long as you’re offering me some information of value, so I’d hurry if I were you.”
She hated me, but she’d be back if she found something else. That I was sure of.
She left, and I had more questions than before. Nothing was adding up.
I turned and headed back toward the shop with nothing but questions and a man I didn’t want to ask anything of.
“You’re going to eventually ask, so you might as well do it now,” Hawk said.
For the record, he was ignoring me as well. I might have started it if you wanted to get technical about it, but he didn’t deserve conversation. He was an active participant in the silence, and that counted for something.
He was also correct. I was going to break down and ask him anyway. It made it all so much worse to have to prove him right, but I’d dwell on that later.
“I thought that magic was typically inherited, like it was somewhat genetic and you fell in line with your parents to some degree. How would it be possible for a Whimsy witch to give birth to…” To what? A magical freak of nature? The only witch in Xest that Dread was afraid of? “How did she give birth to me?”
“You mean to a Maker? There’s no reason to pretend you’re anything less, and you might be more,” Hawk said, watching me with those intense eyes that were impossible to hide from.
Maker. There it was. I’d learned enough to have suspected it was the case. I’d feared it was the truth. I wouldn’t even think about the “more.”
Why did that label scare me more than Whimsy had? I’d been so comfortable being seen as less than. Now that I was on the top of the magical heap, I couldn’t get the word out, hated that he’d said it, as if speaking it made it true. It felt like a line of demarcation, that there’d be no going back from it.
I shouldn’t have asked him. When would I ever learn?
“Why does that bother you so much?” he asked. “Why is being important and worthy so terrifying to you?”
“Am I supposed to pay you by the minute or by session?” I asked, and then turned and walked away, in case he somehow mistook that for an actual question.
“Getting a little testy. Must’ve struck a nerve.”
“I’ll strike a jaw if you don’t shut up.”
He laughed. “Message delivered. You aren’t ready to delve into your inner demons quite yet.”
“You care to share your demons? Like why I’ve never seen you hold the gem? What are you hiding?”
“I’ll tell if you do.”
I nearly tripped, missing a bump in the walk as my head whipped around to him. That was a mighty tempting carrot to dangle. Of all the stories to have laid out before me, Hawk’s was the one I’d pick. I’d start with asking about that strange creature that he shifted into, then the avoidance of the stone, and I had a feeling that was only the tip of the iceberg. The ninety percent out of sight was probably a binge-worthy story.
Did that mean I’d have to unfold my story for him? He might already know most of it. His sources were deep, but I wasn’t handing over the rest, and Hawk wouldn’t take a one-sided deal.
We were back at the office before I cracked.
He opened the door for me and said, “To your question, it’s extremely rare for a Whimsy witch to give birth to a Maker.”
I glanced inside but didn’t move. I needed one last answer. “Rare or impossible?”
His gaze locked on mine. “Before you? I would’ve said impossible.”
16
Mertie walked out of the building, lit up a cigarette with her finger, turned right, and headed down the street. I waited for her to get a bit farther away before I ducked out of my alley, hot on her…hooves? It was what it was.
She walked to the great grey tree with black leaves, ducking under its canopy.
I edged up slowly, making sure I wasn’t followed.
“You shouldn’t be following people in times like these. It’s a good way to get yourself killed,” she said, right before she took an impossibly long drag on her cigarette until there was nothing but a stub.
That wasn’t a threat. That was just Mertie, pleasant to the core, a regular bundle of joy.
“I need to talk to you.”
“I assumed, since I’ve never seen you sneaking after anyone else.” She reached into her back pocket, pulled out another cigarette, and lit it. “Well? Spit it out. I’m almost off break.”
“Do you have records of all the witches who’ve worked in the factory?”
“You certainly can’t imagine Marvin handling it? He can barely tie his shoes in the morning. No, I do it all. I’ve got access to every record involved with everything in that place. I have all the headaches and yet haven’t gotten a raise in a decade.”
“Could you look up someone’s records for me?”
She rolled her eyes. “I can look up anything imaginable.”
“What’s the price?”
She didn’t respond right away, looking toward the factory and taking another drag of her cigarette. She finally looked back at me.
“Is this completely confidential?”
“Did you see me waving a flag outside the factory?” I asked, using the only language she understood: sarcasm.
“If I need to get out of there, you’re going to help me. That’s my price.”
“You want to leave Xest?” It was one thing to get a witch a job with Lorinda. There was no way I could pass off Mertie in Rest.
“Rest? I wouldn’t set foot in that place. I mean out of the factory. I need somewhere else to go, and I don’t have any friends. You people keep taking in everyone anyway. What’s one more?”
“Why would you want to come to the broker building? Don’t you realize what’s going on? What’s coming for us?”
“Yes, but I want to have options. Is it a deal or not?”
“Yeah, I mean, I guess.” Hawk was going to kill me. Although he’d gotten us stuck with Gillian, so who was he to talk? Bibbi and Zab, they’d definitely kill me. Didn’t matter. What were the odds she’d even come? Like she’d said, she just wanted options.
Even if she did come, would she last more than a day? She’d hate it there. We laughed. We were pleasant. She’d be running back to the factory.
“Who’s the witch you’re looking for?”