Chapter 330 Choose Your Blood

Emilia’s POV

“It’s,” I said carefully, “a complicated story.”

“I’ve no doubt.” She waved a thin hand. “But I’m not interested in your story, Miss Taylor. I’m interested in your money. So. What’s the problem?”

I let my gaze drift over the barbed sigil, then back to her. “Before I tell you anything, I’d like to know exactly whose office I’m sitting in.”

That earned me a slow, pleased smile. “Fair. My coven is called Ashvein. We don’t advertise what we truly do, the crystal balls and tarot are for the paying tourists. We deal in the old, hungry magic. Blood workings. Bindings. The sort of craft the Hollowthorn line would burn us at the stake for touching, if they still bothered to leave their forests.” She tapped one nail on the desk. “It’s dangerous work. It’s also the only kind that gets results when the polite spells fail. Which, I gather, is why you’re here.”

A cold thread wound down my spine. “Then we understand each other.”

“So,what’s your needs?”

“I can’t conceive. I need your help.” I said.

Both her eyebrows climbed. “Then you want a hospital, not a witch.”

“If a hospital could fix it, do you really think I’d have hauled two werewolves and a suitcase of cash up to your floor?”

For a moment she just looked at me. Then, slowly, a smile spread across her narrow face. “Aggressive. Full of attitude. I like that. All right. I’ll help you.”

I dug my nails into my palm to keep from leaping out of the chair. “You mean you can actually do something?”

“The answer’s been sitting right in front of you the whole time, Miss Taylor.” She steepled her fingers. “You’re a halfblood. That, in itself, is a small miracle. Your mother handed you formidable witch power, and your father’s wolf line is nothing to sneeze at either. It makes you strong. But nature never gives power without exacting a price. Wolves are mighty, yet the full moon owns them. Vampires live forever, yet daylight would burn them to ash. And we witches wield enormous magic in exchange for terribly short lives.”

The pieces slotted together, ugly and clear. “So what you’re saying is, a halfblood struggles to have children.”

“I’m delighted you came equipped with a brain.” She inclined her head. “Yes. If you were trying to make a child with a human, it’d be child’s play. But you came to me. Which tells me your other half carries strong blood of his own.” A pause. “A werewolf, I’d wager.”

“Good guessing,” I said. “So. Do you have a way or not?”

“I don’t make a habit of helping wolves.” She let the sentence hang. “But given how much money you’re waving around, yes. I have a way. It will be very hard on you, though. Are you certain you want to hear it?”

I’d walked in here bracing for a dead end. Now this woman was telling me there was a door after all. However brutal, however bloody, I would find a way to walk through it.

“I’m certain,” I said.

Vesper smiled, and there was something cold beneath it. “Then choose. Witch, or werewolf?”

“I’m sorry?”

“As I said, halfbloods struggle to conceive. But a pure witch, or a pure werewolf, has no such trouble.”

“How is that even possible?”

“That is precisely what my kind exists to do.” She leaned forward, eyes glittering. “You carry two halves inside you. We can strip one of them away. It’s irreversible. The spell is intricate and unforgiving, you’ll get exactly one attempt, and it may well kill you.”

My throat went dry. “And the odds of success?”

“I can’t promise numbers.” She tilted her head. “But I’ll tell you this. If you chose to become a witch, your chances would be highest. Your witch blood is remarkably potent, Miss Taylor. You simply never learned to use it.”

Become a witch. I understood at once what that meant.

If they carved away my werewolf part, Eve would vanish. Gone. Silenced forever.

“Emmy.” Her voice went very quiet inside me.

“Not a chance, Eve. I will not give up you.”

“I choose the werewolf,” I said.

Vesper exhaled through her nose, disappointed. “A poor choice. But then, that’s what comes of falling for a werewolf, isn’t it? An insult to witch blood, every time.” She spread her hands. “Go home. Think it over. It’s a difficult working, and besides, we’ll need to draw up a contract.”

“A contract?” I repeated.

“Yes, a contract. This is the modern world, Miss Taylor, whatever the Hollowthorn recluses might wish. Think of it as the consent form a surgeon makes the family sign before an operation. Should the spell fail, and you die, what’s to stop that Alpha husband of yours from tearing my company down to the studs?” She smiled thinly. “I have to protect myself.”

She had a point. In my desperation I’d charged in without thinking it through. This wasn’t a decision I could make alone in a witch’s office. Sebastian needed to hear every word of it.

As I rose to leave, Vesper called after me. “Nina mentioned you came in with rather a lot of cash. How about a deposit, to hold your place?”

I hooked the Hermès over my forearm and took my sweet time about it. “A deposit. For a coven with three lawsuits and a landlord at the door.”

I slid my sunglasses back on and looked at her over the rims. “Here’s how this goes, Vesper. Not a dollar changes hands until that contract spells out every last risk, in writing, and my husband’s lawyers have torn it apart twice. You want my money badly enough. You’ll wait for it.”

For a beat the pleasant mask slipped, and something harder showed through. Then she laughed, low and genuine. “Oh, I do like you, Miss Taylor.”

“Flattery’s free, and my signature isn’t,” I said at the door, “we’d best nail down that contract first.”