Just like Roman hypnotized my classmates and put them all under his spell, all I have to do is weave the right incantation to convince him to divulge the information I need!
I turn the page, eager to find the right one, just as the bell on the shop door rings and I peer at the monitor to confirm it. Unwilling to budge ’til I’m sure they’re not going to turn right around and leave, that they’re truly committed to staying. Watching as the small, slim, black-and-white figure makes her way through the room—nervously glancing over her shoulder as though expecting to find someone there. And just as I’m hoping she’ll leave, she goes straight for the counter, places her hands on the glass, and waits patiently.
Great. I get up from the desk. Just what I need—a customer. Calling, “Can I help you?” before I’ve even had a chance to turn the corner and see that it’s Honor.
The second she sees me she gasps, jaw dropping, eyes widening, appearing almost—frightened? The two of us gape at each other, wondering how to move past this.
“Um, do you need something?” I say, voice sounding more confident than I feel, as though I really am in charge around here. Taking in her long dark hair, the recent addition of copper streaks glinting under the lights, realizing I’ve never seen her alone until now. Never once been confronted by her, just the two of us, without Stacia or Craig.
My mind wanders to the book in the back, the one I left on the desk, the one I need to return to immediately, hoping whatever it is that she wants can be handled quickly and easily.
“Maybe I’m in the wrong place.” She pulls her shoulders in, twisting a silver ring around and around as her cheeks spot bright pink. “I think I—” She swallows hard and glances back at the door, motioning awkwardly as she says, “I think I made a mistake, so I’m—I’m just gonna go—”
I watch as she turns, her aura glowing a tremulous gray as she heads for the door. And even though I don’t want to do it, even though I have a potentially life-changing, problem-solving book to return to, I say, “It’s not a mistake.” She stops, shoulders hunched, looking small and diminutive without the aid of her bully friend. “Seriously,” I add. “You meant to come here. And who knows? Maybe I can help.”
She takes a deep breath, pausing for so long I’m about to speak again when she turns. “There’s this guy.” She picks at the hem of her shorts and gazes at me.
“Jude.” Sensing the answer without reading her thoughts or touching her skin, just knowing the moment my eyes meet hers.
“Yeah, um, I guess. Anyway, I um—” She shakes her head and starts again. “Well, I was just wondering if he was here. He gave me this.” She pulls a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket and lays it flat against the glass, smoothing the creases as she peers up at me.
“He’s not here,” I mumble, eyes grazing over the flyer advertising his Psychic Development Class level 1, thinking how he wasted no time. “You want to leave a message? Or sign up?” I study her carefully, never having seen her so shy and uncomfortable before—with the ring twisting, eye darting, knee twitching—and knowing it’s because of me.
She shrugs, gazing down at the counter as though fascinated by the jewelry inside. “No, um, don’t say anything. I’ll just come back some other time.” She takes a deep breath and pulls her shoulders back, trying to summon some of the usual revulsion reserved just for me, but failing miserably.
And even though part of me wants to soothe her, calm her, convince her there’s really no reason to act like this—I don’t. I just watch as she leaves, making sure the door closes behind her before heading back to the book.
CHAPTER 22
“So how was your first day at work?”
I drop onto the couch, kick off my shoes, and prop my feet up on the carved wood coff ee table, closing my eyes, and sighing dramatically as I say, “Actually, it was a lot easier than you’d think.”
Damen laughs and sinks down beside me. Smoothing my hair off my face when he says, “Then what’s with all the fatigue and theatrics?”
I shrug, scrunching down even lower, sinking as deep as I can into the plush, overstuffed cushions, eyes still closed as I say, “I don’t know. Maybe it’s got something to do with the book I found. It left me feeling a little—fragmented. But then, it might have something to do with my surprise visit with—”
“You read a book?” His lips trail down the length of my neck, filling my body with tingle and heat. “As in, the traditional way?”
I move closer, throwing my leg over his and snuggling in, eager for the almost feel of his skin. “Believe me, I tried to take the easy way out and just sense it instead, but it was like—I don’t know—it was the weirdest experience.” I look at him, willing his eyes to meet mine, but they remain closed as he buries his face in my hair. “It was like—like the knowledge inside was too powerful to be read in that way, you know? And it gave me this terrible jolt of electricity—like a shock that rattled my bones. Which only made me even more curious, which is why I tried to read it the normal way. Only I didn’t get very far.”
“Out of practice?” He smiles, lips now at my ear
“More like I couldn’t understand it.” I shrug. “It’s mostly in code. And the parts that are English, well, it was like—olde English. You know, like the kind you used to speak.” I pull away and peer at him, smiling when I see the look of mock outrage displayed on his face. “Not to mention the print was really small and it was filled with all these weird sketches and symbols making up spells and invocations, that sort of thing. What—why are you looking at me like that?” I pause, sensing a major energy shift as his body grows tense
“What’s the name of this book?” he asks, gaze focused on mine.
I squint, screwing my lips to the side, trying to remember what the fancy gold lettering said. “The Book of—Something—” I shake my head, feeling more tired and fragmented than I prefer to let on, especially after seeing the concern on his face.
“Shadows.” He nods, wearing a frown. “The Book of Shadows. Is that it?”
“So you know it?” I shift, arranging my body until I’m fully facing him, his gaze serious, fixed, as though weighing something he may or may not tell me.
“I’m familiar.” He studies my face. “But only with its reputation. I’ve never had a chance to read it myself. But, Ever, if it’s the same tome I’m thinking of—” He shakes his head, disquiet clouding his face. “Well, it contains some extremely powerful magick—magick that needs to be approached with the utmost caution and care. Magick that definitely should not be toyed with, understand?”
“So I guess you’re saying it works.” I smile, hoping to lighten the mood, but knowing I’ve failed when he doesn’t return it.
“It’s nothing like the magick we use. It may seem like it at first, and I suppose that when stripped down to its very essence, it does amount to the same sort of thing. But when we evoke the energy of the universe to manifest form, we call upon only the purest and brightest of light with no darkness at all. And even though most magick practitioners or witches are good, sometimes when people get involved in witchcraft they get in over their heads, and wind up taking a much darker path, calling on a more malevolent force to get the job done.”
I gape, never having heard him even acknowledge a dark force before.
“Everything we do is always based either for the greater good, or our own good. We never do anything to cause any harm.”
“I wouldn’t say never,” I mumble, remembering all the times I’ve beaten Stacia at her own game, or at least tried to.
“Petty schoolyard squabble is hardly what I’m getting at.” He dismisses my thoughts. “What I meant was, we manipulate matter not people. But resorting to spell casting to get what you want—” He shakes his head. “Well, that’s a whole other game. Ask Romy and Rayne.”
I look at him.
“They are witches, you know. Good witches, of course, ones who were taught very well—though unfortunately for them, their schooling was cut a bit short. But take Roman, for instance, he’s the perfect example of what can go wrong when one’s ego, greed, and insatiable need for power and revenge steer them toward the dark side. His recent use of hypnosis is a prime example of that.” He looks at me, shaking his head. “Please tell me you didn’t find this book on the shelf—out where just anyone can get it.”
I cross my legs and shake my head, fingers tracing the seam on his sleeve. “It was nothing like that,” I say. “This copy was—old. And I mean, really, really old. You know, all fragile and ancient—like it should be in a museum or something. Trust me, whoever it belongs to didn’t want anyone to know about it; they went to great lengths to hide it. But you know that can’t really stop me.” I smile, hoping he’ll smile too, but his gaze remains unchanged, worried eyes staring right into mine.
“Who do you think is using it? Lina or Jude?” he asks, using their names so casually you’d think they were friends.
“Does it matter?” I shrug.
He studies me a moment longer, then averts his gaze. Mind wandering to some long-ago place, somewhere I’ve never been. “So, is that it, then? A brief encounter with the Book of Shadows, and you’re all tuckered out?” he says, returning to me.
“Tuckered?” I lift a brow and shake my head. His odd choice of words never fails to amuse me.
“Too dated?” His lips curve into a grin.
“A little.” I nod, laughing along with him.
“You shouldn’t make fun of the elderly. It’s quite rude, don’t you think?” He playfully chucks me under the chin.
“Quite.” I nod, quieted by the feel of his fingers straying over my cheek, down my neck, all the way to my chest.
We rest our heads against the cushions and gaze at each other, his hands moving nimbly, deftly, making their way over my clothes, both of us wishing it could lead to something more, but determined to be contented with this.
“So what else happened at work?” he whispers, pressing his lips to my skin, the ever-present veil hovering between us.
“Did some organizing, cataloging, filing—oh, and then Honor came in.”
He pulls away, features rearranged into his I told you so gaze. “Relax. It’s not like she was looking for a reading or anything. Or at least she didn’t seem to be.”