“What was that spell?” I asked.

Her eyes flicked up to mine. “Something to repel. Anyone who comes near will believe he smells something unbearably repugnant – the bone was from a skunk. It won’t drive away anyone very determined, but neither will it raise the suspicion of magic.”

I wanted to ask her to teach it to me – to fill my head with all these little spells that I might one day find myself needing. But there were more important questions that needed answering.

She puttered around the shop, adjusting bottles and arranging papers. She was nervous, I thought, but who wouldn’t be in her situation? I was half-surprised she hadn’t fled the city, but then again, maybe she couldn’t afford to. Judging from the threadbare hem of her dress – the same she wore the last time we met – she had little money to spare. This shop and its contents might well be all she had, and giving that up, even if her life was at risk, was no small thing.

“Which side did you inherit from?”

I jumped, Catherine’s voice startling me. “Pardon?”

She raised one eyebrow, then picked up her dog. “Your affinity with the earth’s power – it’s an inherited condition.”

“I know…” I pressed fingers lightly against the long scar running down my ribs. “My grandmother. But she isn’t…” I searched for a word, “… practicing. She’s a healer of sorts, but she only uses plants, herbs, and the like. She taught me the basics.”

“Then she is practicing.”

“Really, it’s a shame my sister wasn’t the one who inherited the gift,” I babbled. “She’s much more interested in such things.”

“It tends to fall to only one a generation,” Catherine replied. Souris lifted his head, jumped to the ground, and hurried into the back. She watched him go, then asked, “What about your mother?”

“Oh, Gran is my father’s mother,” I corrected, following with a burst of nervous laughter. “My mother… No, my mother isn’t a witch. At least not in the sense of magic.” I laughed again, feeling unable to suppress it, the sound filling the room. “I didn’t mean that. She can be dreadful sometimes, but she isn’t…” I sucked in a deep breath and counted to five. “The magic comes from my grandmother.”

Catherine’s dark eyes seemed to bore into me. “You’ve a very loud voice.”

I winced, feeling the skin across my chest and cheeks burn. “Sorry. Hazard of my profession.” Apparently she wasn’t the only one who was nervous.

“Indeed.” She sat across from me at the table. “Why don’t you go to her with your questions?”

I bit at my lip, praying I appeared more confident than I felt. “Because she doesn’t know anything about the sort of magic I’m interested in.”

“What sort of magic is that?” Her foot made a little drumming noise against the wooden floorboards.

“Blood magic.”

Her foot stopped tapping.

“Curses, in particular,” I added, before I lost my nerve.