Chapter Seven #3
“Killing something is always personal,” she said lightly. “Especially when you do it with a sword.” It wasn’t an outright lie, and after studying her for a moment, he seemed to decide that it wasn’t worth prying any further.
“What are the usual ingredients?” he asked instead.
Lyssa ticked them off on her fingers. “We need a faerie repellant, like iron or salt. Three elemental items gathered under a banishing moon—water, dirt or clay, and a botanical curio like a mushroom or flower. We can use botanicals as our faerie repellant item, too, depending on the plant. We also need a personal concern from one of the Hound’s victims, like a scrap of clothing or a favorite toy.
And, finally, a piece of the Hound itself, which we already have. ”
Alderic turned to Rags. “How can water be personal? Or dirt?”
“Grave dirt is personal,” Rags said. “Gathered from the grave of one of the Beast’s victims, it will be powerful indeed.” She glanced at Lyssa. “The water could be from a place where either of you or one of the Beast’s victims had happy memories.”
“Why happy memories?” he asked.
“As I said, the Beast’s glyph is one of jealousy and heartbreak.
Using items that represent happiness or love will help us to unravel it.
” She tapped her chin. “In fact, you should each contribute a personal concern to the sword. Given how powerful dark magic can be—and how personal this glyph is—I sense that a single item won’t be enough. ”
“Make a list of anything of yours that might work, and where I can find them,” Lyssa told Alderic. “I’ll try to get them when I’m out gathering the rest of the ingredients.”
“Oh, no,” Rags said, her fingers finding the bag of bones hanging from the cord around her neck. “Alderic must accompany you. He needs to gather the items he plans to use with his own hands.”
“Absolutely not,” Lyssa protested at the same time Alderic said, “I would really rather stay here.”
“The bones have spoken,” the old witch insisted. Usually that ended an argument, but this time Lyssa refused to back down.
“Look at him!” she cried, gesturing wildly at Alderic’s fine clothes, the lace at his wrists and neck, the high-heeled shoes that he had barely been able to walk through the forest in.
“He’ll slow me down, at best. At worst, he’ll get himself hurt.
Or killed. Or kidnapped by bandits and held for ransom. ”
“I don’t want to go, either,” Alderic said, “but there’s no need to be rude.”
Rags shook her head. “The bones told me that you should keep him close, and—”
“Are you sure you heard them correctly?” Lyssa interrupted.
She trusted Rags, for the most part, but sometimes the things “the bones” suggested were a little too convenient.
The bones say to buy cake at the market today, or the bones say you’re to run me a hot bath and sprinkle it with herbs and bring me tea once I’m settled.
She probably just didn’t want a strange man hanging around—not that Lyssa could blame her.
But that wasn’t a good enough reason to saddle Lyssa with the aforementioned strange man.
“Yes, I read them correctly,” Rags snapped.
“They suggested that Alderic is crucial to the unmaking of the Beast—him, and not only the claw that he possesses. No matter how many times I asked, I got the same answer: if he stays behind, you will fail. If you keep him close, there is a branch of the path that leads to success.”
“But why?” Lyssa demanded.
Ragnhild gave Alderic a shrewd look. “Why do you want the Beast dead? It killed someone you cared about?”
“I—” Alderic blinked at her, and seemed unable to form the words for a moment. Finally, he looked away. “Yes.”
“There you go,” Rags said triumphantly. “Alderic has an emotional connection to the Beast, and the bones know it. Besides, with a glyph as discordant as this one, the two of you working in harmony could be the very thing we need in order to unravel it.”
Lyssa shook her head. “No. Rags, I’m serious. He’ll get in the way. I am more than capable of gathering the ingredients by myself.”
“You couldn’t get a piece of the Beast on your own,” Ragnhild pointed out. “Nor could you find the creature in nearly thirteen years of searching for it, or provide an accurate glyph. Alderic here has done all of those things.”
“I…”
But there was no arguing with that. The witch was right, and it brought hot shame to Lyssa’s cheeks. This ruffly rich man had gotten her closer to fulfilling her oath than she had ever gotten on her own.
“Do you care more about your own ego, or killing the Beast?” Ragnhild asked. “It’s your choice.”
Lyssa gritted her teeth so hard it felt like she was going to crack a molar. “Fine.” She turned to Alderic. “But you have to do what I say.”
“Of course,” he said, inclining his head deferentially.
“We’re getting you a pistol.”
“I don’t know if that’s—”
“And you cannot wear that outfit.”
He looked down at himself. “What’s wrong with my outfit?”
“You’re too noticeable. You need something more discreet. Something you can move around in easily, with shoes that won’t snap your ankles the second we leave the paved roads.”
“I’m sure I have something more appropriate at the manor,” Alderic said. “We could—”
“No,” Lyssa said. “I told you, the Hound-wardens will be waiting for us there. Your parlor is probably overrun with them even as we speak. In any case, I highly doubt you own anything I would consider appropriate. We’ll get you a few things in Warham before we set out.”
Alderic hesitated, then seemed to remember that he had agreed to do whatever she said. He inclined his head again. “I do love a good shopping trip.”
“You can go with Nadia,” Rags said. “She’s heading to Warham tomorrow morning to fetch some supplies.”
Nadia didn’t argue. She didn’t roll her eyes or snap that she didn’t need a babysitter. She simply said, “Okay.”
Ragnhild seemed as taken aback by that as Lyssa was.
“Okay,” the old witch said slowly, staring at her apprentice.
“Well, then. That’s settled.” She hobbled to where the claw sat beside the chalk drawing of the glyph and bent over with a grunt to retrieve it.
“Do you mind if I stow this somewhere safe while you’re gone? ”
“Not at all,” Alderic said, waving his hand as though it was of little consequence to him where it was kept, as though he could simply get another one if she lost it.
Lyssa resisted the urge to snatch the claw from the witch’s hands and hide it somewhere only she could find it. Ragnhild glanced at her, as if she could sense the battle raging within her, but when Lyssa didn’t move or argue, she slipped it into one of her apron pockets.
“You said before that the Beast is hibernating,” she said to Alderic as she made her way to the worktable, grabbing one of the stubby drafting pencils Lyssa kept in a lumpy clay jar in one corner and scribbling something in her leather book. “How long until it comes out again?”
“It appears at sunrise on the solstices and equinoxes only,” he replied. “At sunrise the day after, it goes back to its den and stays there until the next turn of the seasons.”
Rags grunted. “How very faerie,” she said, as she scribbled more notes in her book.
Lyssa chewed her split lip, angry at herself.
How had she never noticed that? The Beast had a predictable pattern, and she had completely missed it.
Lady Bright, Eddie had died on the Summer Solstice, and she still hadn’t pieced it together.
Although, in her defense, it wasn’t like there was a massacre every time the seasons turned.
Trottingham had happened a full ten years before Buxton Fields.
There had to be some other factor at play, one neither of them had figured out yet.
“The Vernal Equinox is a couple of months away, out there,” she said, nodding in the general direction of the Gate. “We should be able to make it, if we don’t dally here too long.” At Alderic’s questioning look, she added, “Time isn’t the same in these woods. A day here can be a week there.”
“The Vernal Equinox.” Alderic’s expression was bewildered, as if he couldn’t believe this was finally happening. Lyssa felt much the same way, like the entire thing was a dream she might wake up from at any moment.
“You approve?” she asked him.
He seemed to consider it. “The Beast has lived far too long already. Better to dispatch of it as quickly as we can.”
“Hear, hear,” she said, raising an imaginary glass. This time Alderic didn’t hesitate before pretending to clink his own glass against it. “May winter’s end bring the end of the Beast with it.”