Page 1 of Blood & Ash

Prologue

Two Years Earlier

Del sat at the far end of the worktable and watched her aunt light the third tallow candle. The back room of Nightshade & Nettle held nine witches tonight, one for each chair, and the air was close with the smell of lavender and something else underneath it, something chemical and dark.

She placed her hands flat on her thighs. The worktable was oak, scarred from sixty years of mortar and pestle, and the shelves behind it ran floor to ceiling with labeled jars. Dried lavender filled the blue-glass one and powdered bone the plain ceramic. Three bundles of sage hung from the low rafters, brushing the tallest witch’s hair when she shifted in her seat. The room had no windows. The door to the shop was closed.

Rosalind took the chair at the head of the table. She was sixty-one, gray-haired, her brown eyes calm. She smoothed the front of her sweater and didn’t look at Del.

“He’ll be here at seven,” Rosalind said.

The door opened at seven exactly.

Arrow entered without knocking. He wore a charcoal sweater and dark pants that fit him without announcing their cost. His reddish-brown hair was neat. His pale eyes moved across each face in the room before he settled on the empty chair beside Rosalind. He took it.

“Thank you for making the time.” He set a folded cloth square on the table in front of him. It was black linen, maybe silk. He smoothed it flat with two fingers and left it there, unopened and never mentioned again.

Rosalind nodded. “We’re listening.”

Arrow placed his hands on the table. His fingers were long. “You know the pressures on Ashton Grove. The demon war left a vacuum. The shifter pack is unstable since their alpha died. The truce between territories is holding, but it’s a frame without a picture.” His voice stayed even and unhurried. “The ley convergence under the eastern quarter is active. More active than it should be. I can draw from it. I can protect all nine of you while I do.”

One of the younger witches leaned forward. “Protect us from what?”

“From the things that want what’s under this town,” Arrow said. “From the things that followed the demons here. From each other, if it comes to that.” He smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes.

The witch with silver glasses cleared her throat. “What share are we talking about?”

“A fair one. Enough to strengthen your own work without attracting attention.” Arrow turned to her. “You specialize in barrier spells. The convergence would double your range.”

She sat back. She hadn’t told him that.

“The protection is real,” Arrow said. “The share is real. The alternative is watching the power get claimed by someone less careful than I am.”

Del watched him work the room. His pale eyes tracked each shift, each opened mouth, and he answered before the question fully formed. He pivoted. He smoothed. Her jaw tightened. She counted the pre-emptions. One went to the youngest witch, who worried about schedules. Another went to the one with the burn scar on her forearm, who asked about safety. Lastly, one went to the quietest of them, who only moved her hand and got an answer about proximity to the shop.

She waited until he finished his sweep of the table. Then she spoke.

“What form does our contribution take?”

No one spoke. Arrow turned to her. His expression didn’t change.

“Components,” he said. “Sourced and prepared. Delivered on a schedule I’ll provide. Nothing more.”

“Specific components.”

“Yes.”

“Prepared to your specifications.”

“Yes.”

Del held his gaze. “And if we want out later?”

The question hung. Rosalind’s fingers tightened on the edge of the table.

Arrow smiled. It was the same polite curve of mouth. “The protection is conditional on the contribution. If the contribution stops, the protection stops. The things that want the convergence will notice the gap. They’ll find you.” He spread his hands. “It’s not a threat. It’s logistics.”

The tallow candles guttered.