HYDRA

10

WIND CLAWED AT HETTY as she hurried along the street. She barely remembered stumbling out the house, even the excuse she called out to Benjy when she left. She just knew she needed to get away from the box and from the room it was in.

She was trying to move toward the future, but that box dragged her back to the past.

Back to wondering what could have been.

Back to thinking what should have happened.

She thought she could have handled it. She should have been able to handle it. But maybe she only convinced herself she had. It made a good story. After years of searching, she finally found out the truth, and with the love of the family she built around her she had the support to let the past go. It was a story Hetty wanted to be true, because she knew how much she had failed everyone in her life due to her focus on finding Esther. She ruined friendships, lost time and opportunities, all just to be ready to chase after a fallen star.

Maybe that’s why the funeral home wasn’t working. She wasn’t used to staying in one place.

No, that was wrong.

She had stayed in Philadelphia all these years. For her friends. For Cora and Jay. For Benjy. Benjy had stayed here with her, even throughout the years their marriage was just a formal arrangement so they could investigate murder without gossip spreading.

She had done something right to have all these wonderful people in her life, who wanted her in their lives.

And she wasn’t going to let this box send her spiraling.

This box was a gift, after all, a token of her sister’s love.

Hetty stopped at the corner, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders.

Even in death, her sister’s love was still around her.

Now, that’s a better story.

Cora’s home wasn’t on the way back to Juniper Street, but Hetty found herself walking there anyway, drawn to the possibility of comforting words and sound advice.

After knocking without getting an answer, Hetty was just about to leave when the door snapped open.

“I thought you might have gone out,” Hetty began, only to stop when she saw the frantic expression on Cora’s face. “What’s the matter?”

“I’ve never been so glad to see you in my life! Come in, come in, I need your help!”

Alarmed by these words, Hetty followed Cora down the hallway into the back room. Once upon a time a bookcase hid the doorway, as this room had been a place for runaways to stay and rest as they figured out what they would do next. That bookcase now sat inside the room properly, although the rest of the room was little changed. There was a cot, some chairs, and small tables for a lantern and water bowl to rest on. Although there was talk about Benjy cutting a window into the room, in the end it never happened, as Cora thought this room would be used for storage one day. But that day might not come as long as this room kept performing its original function.

“Is my assistant back already? I know the girl’s good, but this is short of miracles!”

Hetty stopped at the doorway, recognizing the voice of the last person she wanted to see on any given day.

Bernice Tanner.

Hetty shouldn’t have been surprised. Cora and Bernice were old friends, but for her to be here to help was unexpected. Bernice did not get her hands dirty​—​she employed others for that.

But there Bernice sat in a chair, gripping her cane in hand. Although Bernice was around the same age as Cora and Jay, she appeared decades older. That could be blamed on her perpetually pursed lips, a mane of pure white, and large round glasses that gleamed in the light. The dark lenses gave her an air of mystery, and few people ever realized she was blind. Bernice used her glasses to great effect, leaning forward so your reflection peered back at you. Despite being born into privilege and wealth, she had devoted her life to the cause of freedom and had been highly placed in the Vigilance Society, commanding information that went in and out of the city regarding Underground Railroad activities. There was nothing that occurred without Bernice knowing first. She handed out assignments, gave orders, and ensured people arrived where they needed to be, whole and well. But if you wanted something from her, even just information, there was a price. A price Hetty had paid many times before, but she never got her just rewards.

“Not your assistant,” Cora said. “It’s Henrietta.”

Bernice nodded at this. “That might be better. She’s always willing to help.”

“Bernice found him,” Cora explained as she gestured to the man lying on the cot. “She brought him here because it was closest. Thought I could help for some reason, but this is nothing like I’d seen before.”

“I don’t know if there’s anything I can do.” Hetty tried not to glare at Bernice, resentment outweighing her desire to lend Cora any help.

“I’m sure you can think of something,” Bernice said.

A loud moan from the cot brought Hetty’s attention away from Bernice.

On the cot, the man twisted in pain. There was magic around his wrists and ankles, tying him down to the bedposts. Cora’s spells, Hetty determined as she noted how the sigils were on the bedposts themselves.

The reason for this was clear. Throbbing red magic on his torso set the man thrashing about. When the light on his chest faded, he slacked against his bounds. As his face relaxed, Hetty recognized him.

“Wise Sammy!” Hetty exclaimed.

Bernice’s head swung in Hetty’s direction. “You know this man?”

“More like encountered many times.” Hetty went to the other side of the cot. “He gets into a number of unsavory things that often have us crossing paths.”

Wise Sammy had fought for the Union during the war, one of the first volunteers that signed up after Black men were allowed to serve. While he came out of the war unharmed physically, his unseen scars led him to an addiction of a potion called Narcisse. As a result, he moved from place to place, and got himself tangled in quite a few things he shouldn’t. Although he was only a handful of years older than Hetty, from the deep wrinkles and shock of white through his hair, you wouldn’t know it.

At the sound of his name, Wise Sammy’s eyes flickered open and focused on Hetty. His voice was hoarse as he spoke. “Well, well, Miz Sparrow. Come to terrorize me. I don’t think you can manage it on your own.”

Hetty leaned in. “I can dangle you off the side of a building without my husband, thank you very much. What happened to you?”

“A spell,” Wise Sammy grunted.

He jerked backwards then, and his body arched forward against his bounds. Bernice and Cora both recoiled at the yell that ripped itself from his lungs, but Hetty didn’t budge. Wise Sammy’s eyes were wide open in pain, and there was something glowing at his throat.

Hetty had no idea what sort of sigils were used. Sigils rarely revealed what the intent was, but that didn’t matter when it came to breaking them apart.

With a flick of her fingers, the mythical beast of Hydra appeared before her.

As it glided across Wise Sammy, the sigils across his body lit up. Hetty waved her arms like a music conductor. She directed the Hydra’s head to attack the spell. She aimed widely at first, trying to destroy the toughest part of the spell. The hex fought her, attacking her own spell, but Hetty pressed on, chipping away until the hex faded and Wise Sammy’s breathing returned to normal.

“Oh, dear stars above.” Cora had a hand pressed to her chest. “To think I thought herbs would do the trick!”

“That is a strange sort of magic,” Hetty said. “However did he encounter it?”

“Don’t know,” Bernice said. “My nephew bought some dodgy potions the other day and I had my assistant tracking down the source. She was led to this ‘Wise Sammy,’ as you call him. And this.”

Bernice tapped her cane against a filthy and patched bag that lay next to the cot.

Hetty brought the bag over to her side. Inside were wrapped packages and potions. Picking up one of the packages, she got a strong smell of herbs, and although she didn’t know the name, she’d bet everything they were magical instead of mundane. But her guess rested mostly on the packaging. There were a handful of herbal shops in the city, and they all stamped their packaging. Penelope’s shop, for example, stamped an acorn. Hetty knew the others by sight. This package of herbs had no stamps, just a number scrawled onto the paper. The potion bottles, however, were labeled. None were poisons or deadly potions that Hetty recognized, and a few even had Penelope’s handwriting on the labels, but they were all from different shops. Hetty tapped the cork. This proved it wasn’t fraudulent potions flooding the streets, but this felt much worse in a way. Less worrisome were a few amulets tucked into the bag, and a coin purse bulging to the point of the seams splitting.

“Should have let me die, if you’re trying to steal from me,” Wise Sammy muttered.

“You weren’t going to die,” Hetty said. The man’s voice was strained, but his eyes were open and alert. “If you did, be happy to know you would have a properly attended funeral.”

A raspy laugh escaped Wise Sammy. “With all the people I owe money to in attendance.”

“Most likely.” Hetty glanced up at Cora and Bernice. “Can I talk to him alone? I don’t think he’ll talk freely with you here.”

“He’s talked freely enough,” Bernice grumbled.

Cora just tapped Bernice’s shoulder. “Leave her alone. She seems to got a good handle on things.”

Either because she agreed or because she’d rather not sit around listening anymore, Bernice got up and followed Cora to the back room, leaving Hetty alone with Wise Sammy.

Hetty tucked the bottles she thought might be poison into her pocket and then drew the Arrow star sigil. Gently, she sent the spell at the bounds that kept Wise Sammy tied to the bed.

He drew his arms back down to his side but folded them over his chest and let them rest there.

“They’re gone. Tell me what happened,” Hetty said.

“Told you. Got caught up in a bad spell. Thought it wasn’t so bad. Guess I was wrong.”

“Quite wrong. But that’s not the whole story.”

Wise Sammy licked his lips. “You know my woes, Miz Sparrow. My bad luck is worse than a two-headed frog. I got to talking to somebody who was selling potions and magical trinkets. Said I could do the same. I get a crate every week or so and told to sell them. And it’s been a good thing.”

“Who gives you the stuff to sell?” Hetty prompted.

“A fella,” Wise Sammy said. “I meet him at different places. Last time was two nights ago. I got the goods, but the fella told me I couldn’t walk the streets. That the police had things set up to find us out. And he said not to worry, there’s a shortcut. Well, it was no shortcut I’d ever seen! It took me underground, into a tunnel.”

Hetty sat forward at these last words.

“Where did you enter?” Hetty interrupted.

“The Greek church​—”

“St. Gregorious?” Hetty finished for him.

Wise Sammy nodded.

Hetty sat back. He was talking about the tunnel she’d visited on Barclay Street. Did this mean that whatever Wise Sammy had gotten tangled up in, it had to do with the fire or even the hex she found? Hetty didn’t believe in coincidences, but this was an unexpected twist.

“When you were in this tunnel, that’s when you got caught up in the spell?”

He nodded. “Lit up everything around me like all the stars coming home. I didn’t feel nothing that night, but the pain started yesterday afternoon.”

“A delayed reaction,” Hetty said softly, as she thought back to when she’d set that hex off in Valentine Duval’s home. Could it be related? It seemed like it could be. “Is there anything else you can tell me? What’s the man’s name? What does he look like?”

Wise Sammy opened his mouth but stopped. “I don’t know what he looks like. I saw him with my own two eyes. But I can’t tell you if he was a tall man, a skinny man, or even if he was missing an eye. The words aren’t coming to me.”

“That’s a cloaking spell,” Hetty said, after giving it some thought. “Done so you can’t betray this man.”

A very well-done spell too, which annoyed Hetty. She hated it when they were clever.

Wise Sammy was also annoyed, but for different reasons. “Why would I betray him? He’s helping me make money!”

“I wonder that as well,” Hetty remarked.

She brought the bag over to him. “You can sell the rest of these. But that’s it. Don’t get any more things from this man. You go rent a room at the Goode House and get yourself a hot meal. I’ll send your brother to check on you, and if you’re not there the next time our paths cross, you’re going to dangle off a building. You understand?”

Wise Sammy smiled. “Understood, Miz Sparrow. You be careful too, looking for this man. I got a feeling he’s not so nice to people messing with his business.”

“Most aren’t, but that’s no surprise.”

Wise Sammy leaned back. “Can you send me off to sleep? I’m beat.”

“I will, but you got to promise me, when you wake up you leave here with nothing else in your bag. Mrs. Evans and the pastor are like kin to me, so you hurting them is hurting me.”

“Ah, what do you take me for?”

“Somebody I can’t trust even with my eye on him,” Hetty said.

With a wave of her fingers, Hetty set a sleep spell on him. Then she went in search of Cora and Bernice.

They were in the kitchen, holding a private conference.

“How’s the man?” Cora asked.

“Sleeping. He’ll wake up in a few hours and be on his way.”

Cora’s eyes narrowed. “Did you spell him asleep?”

“Yes, but he asked for it.”

“How lucky for you to drop by and take care of things.” Bernice cackled. “I always knew you could be relied upon!”

“What’s his story?” Cora asked.

“Bad luck and poor judgment. He’s selling stolen magic to make money. Somebody gives him a crate and he sells what’s inside. I spotted a few potions from Penelope’s shop and there’s bound to be others in there,” Hetty said.

“Has Penelope told you about any thefts?” Cora asked.

Hetty shook her head. “She says there’s always been some petty theft, but she overlooks it as long as it’s not poisons​—​but she wouldn’t know about the other shops.”

“Sounds like you should ask around,” Bernice pointed out.

“Yes,” Hetty reluctantly agreed, “you’re right.”

Bernice smiled at these words, stealing the rest of Hetty’s goodwill toward the woman. “Well, this is something I’ll keep an ear out to. And if my assistant finds any more people caught up in some hex, I’ll make sure to send them your way. All in all, this was quite an exciting afternoon. I thought I wouldn’t be seeing you until my ball,” Bernice said. “Did you get my invitation? My assistant posted things somewhat late. I was awaiting news from Valentine Duval, and he has only just returned to Philadelphia.”

Hetty nearly had whiplash at the sudden lurch of the conversation.

She wasn’t the only one. Cora’s eyebrows raised in surprise at the subject change.

“Is having a ball a good idea?” Hetty managed to say. “Mr. Raimond Duval was just buried.”

“I arranged this with Raimond long before his death,” Bernice replied rather mildly. “He wouldn’t want to call it off, especially when it’s for the school.

“I hope that you will be there, Henrietta. Whenever you’re around, it means there shall be some interesting conversations.”

Benjy’s words about Bernice pulling them away to ply them with good wine came to mind.

Hetty gritted her teeth, and said as pleasantly as she could, “We’ll be there. I always love an excuse to wear a pretty dress. Perhaps we can talk more there.”

The doorbell rang.

“Ah, that’ll be my assistant. Don’t bother, Cora, I’ll see myself out. It looks like I have overstayed my welcome.” Bernice stood up and left the room, slumping more than usual with her cane, as if the sight would make Hetty feel guilty.

“Henrietta, you’re skating on a fine edge,” Cora reproved.

“You know I don’t like her!”

“But you should respect her. She has that right, no matter what you think personally.”

Hetty shook her head. “She dangled information about my sister for years to get me to do what she wanted. I did what she asked, but she never held up her end of the deal. I was her puppet then, and she still thinks I am now. How can you be friends with her?”

“Bernice has her good qualities. Her methods might not be what you or I would do, but she means well in the end. She’ll look into any reports of missing brewed magic and even keep an eye on the man she brought here.”

“She’s still a liar!” Hetty huffed.

Cora turned, and in the shadows of the kitchen she looked older than usual. “I swear, you are so much like Jay, both stubborn and steadfast about silly things.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“It depends.” Cora picked up her kettle and set it on the stove. “While your timely arrival was perfection, you never said why you showed up here. And don’t lie and say it was just to see my face. You are quite often busy, my dear.”

“I just got a box of Esther’s things today. Items she put aside for me when she knew she was dying,” Hetty said. “Most of it looks like her notes for brewed magic, herbs, and other tonics. Harmless things.”

Cora’s face softened, as understanding filled her eyes. “Still, they are haunted. Did you go through it?”

“I started, but I couldn’t.”

“You need to. You won’t move past her death if you don’t. I’ll go through it with you if need me there.”

“I can’t ask that of you.”

“You’re not​—​I’m offering. Also, you own a funeral home, Henrietta. You can’t let it be occupied by a ghost!”