“I wouldn’t.”
“You might have…”
I sighed and tilted my head. I knew my place, and I should have stayed in it.
She glanced at her phone and held the screen toward me. “The humans put out the fire. At least now they might do some upkeep on the place, take care of the graves.”
“Mm-hmm.” I stood in the doorway, leaning my shoulder against the jamb.
Ember returned her phone to her pocket. “I’m heading to work. Want to grab dinner at Rockafellas when I get home?”
“Sure.” I waved as she climbed into her black Jeep and drove away.
Ember worked at Spellbound Axe, which was perfect for her. She got paid to teach people how to throw sharp objects. Being the coven librarian was a full-time job—the perfect job for me—so membership dues paid my salary. With my home upstairs and the library and shop downstairs, I rarely left the building. Last night was a reminder why.
Before I could spin the disco ball at my pity party for one, I locked the back door and headed for the library. My Mary Janes thudded on the hardwood as I stepped into my sanctuary and took a deep breath. The musty smell of old books filled my senses, relaxing the tension in my shoulders. I rolled my neck and inhaled again.
Ahhh… This was where I belonged.
To the right lay the arsenal. Dozens upon dozens of magical artifacts sat on the wooden shelves, each one labeled with its purpose, instructions, and remedy. I had created the laminated cards for the items because a couple of inexperienced witches botched the spells a while ago.
People weren’t supposed to check out items unless they’d done their research and knew how to use them, but when a seventeen-year-old, who was trying to cure his genital warts with magic, came running in with boils covering his entire body, I had to drop everything and look up a spell to reverse the hex he’d cast on himself. I wasn’t a healer by any means, but research was my department, so I helped him.
Of course, I told him to see a real doctor for his problem. Magic couldn’t fix everything, and a warty wiener was better than puss-filled boils any day of the week.
So, every artifact now came with instructions, thanks to me. That project was complete, so it was time to organize the grimoires.
I hit the switch on the wall, and the overhead lights hummed to life, casting a dim, warm glow on the tomes. Wooden cabinets lined the other three walls, while six rows of shelves stood in the center of the room. Ancient texts stood next to new editions, and stacks of books that needed to be reshelved sat in the aisles, making it nearly impossible to find anything.
When my dad ran the library, he’d locate the books by sense. If he closed his eyes and said a location spell, his magic would lead him to the volume he needed. I could do that too, but it would be a helluva lot easier if they were organized. The Dewey Decimal System was still in use for a reason.
It worked.
I started with the sigil books, since those were the most familiar. I’d studied them from cover to cover when I was training to be Ink Master, and though I rarely needed to crack one open anymore, they were my favorite. Embossed sigils adorned the deep burgundy covers, and as I ran my fingers over the first volume, magic tingled on my skin.
I set it on the shelf nearest my desk and picked up the next one on the stack, volume three. Where was two? The books left in the pile were volumes six, four, eight, seven, and nine, in that order. I couldn’t very well organize them if I didn’t have all the books, so I scanned the cabinets along the wall, looking for the burgundy cover. Nothing.
Creeping down the aisle between the piles of books, I searched and searched. A thick layer of dust coated the shelves and everything on them. It looked like I’d be getting after the entire room with a feather duster soon.
The next aisle of books was even worse. Volumes thrown haphazardly on the shelves created a chaos that made my muscles crawl beneath my skin. It would take weeks to organize this mayhem, and if I didn’t find sigil book two, I’d never sleep at night. Looked like it was time to use magic.
Straightening my shoulders, I tipped my head toward the sky…I mean ceiling…and called on my magic. “What was lost will be found. Near or far, show me where you are.”
The vibrating energy in the room stilled, leaving only a faint tickle above my head. That was weird. If the book were in the library, I would have been pulled right to it. Instead, the weak vibration came from far away…as in upstairs. What was it doing up there? I hadn’t cracked open a sigil book in ages, so it couldn’t be in my room.
I ground my teeth. “Ember…”
Why on earth would she be studying sigils? Wasn’t it enough that she was good at everything else? Sigils were supposed to be my thing.
I stomped out of the library, up the stairs, and through the kitchen. She’d left her cereal bowl in the sink again, which made my irritation with her double. When I reached the hallway, I expected the vibration to pull me into the first bedroom, Ember’s. Instead, it led me farther down, past my room, and toward Cinder’s.
Okay, that was weird. Cinder always made a big deal out of me and my ink, so I couldn’t fathom why she’d be studying them. Leave it to the oldest to coddle the youngest, right? Honestly, I appreciated her encouragement more than she knew.
I hesitated in the doorway. I hadn’t set foot inside her room since she disappeared. Ember had gone in, looking for clues as to where she might have gone, but she’d found nothing. No notes scribbled on scraps of paper. No maps to her location. Nada.
With a deep inhale, I crossed the threshold. The moment I stepped inside, the sigil book’s vibration stilled. I whispered the location spell again, but nothing happened.
“Huh.” I took a giant step backward, into the hallway, and poof. The magic took hold, pulling me back into Cinder’s room. “Strange.”
Poof again. The book’s vibration stopped the second I crossed the threshold.
“What have you been up to, big sister?” I straightened my shoulders. Time to find out exactly what she’d done. “Confess, expose my magic sleuth. I call on you to reveal your truth.”
Golden sparkles gathered in the air, revealing a thick gray cloud billowing from the ceiling, stretching down and engulfing the entire space. She’d cast a cloaking spell to hide something, and unless I removed it, my location magic would be useless in her room.
I stepped out and ran to the kitchen to mix up a quick potion. Solomon’s seal, star anise, and a pinch of basil formed the base of my spell. I mixed everything together, and as I added a drop of lavender oil, pink smoke rose from the bowl, the mixture turning into a fine powder.
Back in Cinder’s room, I blew the dust into the air and said, “Magic cloak, I now revoke.”
The moment the final word crossed my lips, Cinder’s spell fought back, slapping me across the face like a scorned lover. The gray cloud thickened, swirling around me and making my skin sting. I made the mistake of breathing it in. My nostrils burned as if my dear, sweet oldest sister had shot a stream of fire from her fingertips straight up my nose.
I coughed and stumbled back into the hall. “What the actual eff, Cin?”
Why would she need a spell that strong in her bedroom? All I wanted was to find sigil book volume two, but apparently, even in her absence…or her death—I wasn’t ruling it out yet—Cinder thought that was too much to ask.
Shaking off the essence of her uber-mega-ridiculously-too-strong-spell—what was she hiding?—I crossed the threshold for the fourth, and hopefully final, time. I’d have to find the book the mortal way.
A quick scan of her bookcase revealed nothing of use. A high school yearbook, a few horror novels, a figurine of a black cat dressed like a reaper. Her nightstand stood empty on top. I was afraid of what I might find in the drawer, but I had to look.
