Page 73 of Magic's Rise

“If it were me, I’d do anything to get that box open.” I touch her arm, her skin soft and buzzing slightly beneath my fingertips. “How did something so important go missing?”

“Ah…” Aris hesitates, casting a wary glance toward Elana to make sure the coven leader is still caught up in her discussion with Aspen.

Satisfied that we won’t be overheard, Aris leans in closer to whisper, “The thing is, the spell isn’t technically lost. It’s just locked away in a grimoire.”

My pulse quickens. “The box that can’t be opened.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Levi and Haut turning toward us, their ears practically twitching with how hard they’re eavesdropping.

I shift to block them from Aris’s view. “Tell me about the puzzle box.”

Aris sighs like someone who’s carried a secret too long and can finally share the burden. “The original family grimoire was coded to only open to a blood relation. While I’m technically part of the family, my great-great-grandmother died before having an heir to the line. My great-grandmother was adopted from a powerful charm-caster family.”

Her shoulders slump. “Unfortunately, the last of the hereditary witches passed away with my great-great-grandmother, and she never copied over the spells to a different grimoire. My great-grandmother wrote down what she could remember, but she never learned the spell for the moon-madness amulet.”

“Witch hoarding at its finest.” My fists clench in frustration. “Keeping everything all secretive and locked up tight. It’s like Mrs. Smith and her damn pie recipe.”

Aris’s lips turn down in a frown. “Pie recipe?”

“There’s a whole feud in Hartford Cove about it. She refused to share her recipe, and then when my friend Jesse beat her in the pie contest, she accused him of stealing it. Now she’s determined to win this year, and Jesse’s determined to remain the champion.” My stomach twists into a knot at the very memory of apple pie. “But, yeah, hoarding recipes?—”

Before I can continue, Tris nudges me hard, and I realize the rest of the room is silent. I glance around the table to find everyone staring at us, curiosity etched on their faces.

I clear my throat and address the group. “Well, if you must know, our Mrs. Smith would give old Cora here a run for her money. Except that Mrs. Smith did take a silver knife to the gut, so she gets a slight pass on being such a raging bitch.”

I notice Aspen wince at my bluntness, and hurry to clarify, “Mrs. Smith is a wolf shifter. But she’s also a bitter, old prune.”

“She took in Westen, though,” Tris says, trying to be fair. “So she’s not completely horrible.”

“I had to practically force her into it,” I counter. “And she threw a tray at your head when she was laid up in the clinic.”

“On account of the stabbing, which she took to save you,” Haut interjects.

“Which I paid her back for in the form of secret bacon.” I squint at him. “Whose side are you on, man who is leaning toward a Tuesday degree of affection?”

He bats his lashes at me. “Yours, of course, my sweet Monday.”

About to come back with a September level of love, I catch Aspen’s expression, who looks like he just bit into a sour apple. Much like Mrs. Smith’s face whenever she has to deal with me.

I sigh. “Okay, what did I miss, Oh Great Mentor?”

Aspen rubs his temples, trying to ward off a headache that I most likely caused. “We’re tabling the implementation of Hartford Cove’s barrier spell unless things get more dire. Without more experimentation, there’s no guarantee we can modify it, and the memory-wiping aspect is far too complex to experiment with, especially when it won’t fix the bigger issue.”

I glance at Elana. “Have you guys tried starting from scratch with your barrier spell, or are you only attempting to renew the damaged one?”

Elana’s lips press into a thin, displeased line. “If you’d been listening instead of gossiping, you’d know that answer.”

“Ah, well, you see, my attention span operates on a hierarchy of interest.” I wave a dismissive hand. “I obviously found gossiping more interesting than sitting quietly while you and Aspen discussed things by yourself.”

Aspen winces at my bluntness, but he’s used to me by now and chooses the path of least resistance this time. “The original barrier spell is lost.”

“Really?” I raise an eyebrow. “A lot of spells seem to go missing around Silver Hollow, considering how small and secluded the town is.”

“It’s been generations since it was first put in place,” Elana sniffs, her nose in the air. “Things are bound to get lost in that time.”

“Sure, sure, because witches are notorious for losing their magic books, so that makes total sense.” I pick up the pencil I had abandoned earlier and grind the lead into the picture of Silver Hollow’s barrier. “Did everyone check under their mattresses for it? Because I found six grimoires beneath Haut’s without even trying.”

Aspen’s gaze sharpens, and his attention shifts to Elana.

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