She leaned over, nudging me with her toe, and a pentacle necklace slid from the deep collar of her blouse. “Who do ye think ye are to threaten me?”

Playing off a hunch, I spelled it out for her. “I’m an agent with the Earthen Conclave. I’ve been to the Crathie Prison, where all the convicted earth witches are sent to die, and I can tell you it’s a special kind of hell tailored to the needs of its prisoners.” She fisted the pentacle for strength, and I knew I had her. Magic was passed down the maternal lines. The man was a witch, and so she must be too. “You will never again feel rain on your skin, dirt in your hands or nurse tender shoots to maturity. Your connection with the earth will be severed, and you will die surrounded by concrete and steel.”

Pursed lips moved in a circular motion. “I want immunity for meself and me boy. Goddess knows he has suffered enough.”

I jumped at the sound of her voice. I hadn’t expected to hear it inside my head. The privacy was welcome, though. “Give me a hand—” and I meant that literally, “—and I promise you and your son full immunity.”

“Shadow and light canno’ exist in ta same place at ta same time.”

“Wait.” I writhed. “That can’t be it. What does it mean?”

“Figure it out.” She thumped my temple with her knuckle. “I canno’ do all the work for ye.”

A riddle. Great. They might as well shoot me now.

After giving me a decisive nod, she toddled out of my line of sight. Only then did I notice despite the firelight, she cast no shadow. Letitia had enslaved hers too. I could guess where it had gone. It must be the one confining Harlow. I wondered which had dragged Graeson into the lake, but remembering his ear-piercing howls made my chest hurt, so I focused on what the old woman said, hoping that scrap of insight might save Harlow and me.

“Bring her,” Letitia keened in a high voice that shattered my train of thought. “Let all witness justice for my Jasper.”

The shadow hefted me upright, and my head spun as the blood rushed back to my brain. “Oh fudge.”

A beer bottle thudded beside my foot, and a booming voice yelled, “Are we doing this or what?”

Apparently the natives were getting restless.

Letitia gestured me forward, and I had no choice about going. The nearer I came to her, the hotter my skin burned, the harder my gut twisted. Her black gaze pierced the depths of my soul and ignited the petty, squabbling tangle of faded emotional baggage we all carry until each of those old hurts smoldered with renewed fervor.