Page 77 of Magic's Rise

My enthusiasm evaporates faster than I can say bibbidi-bobbidi-boo.

“Nope! No needles!” I drop the book like a hot potato. “There’s no way I’m pricking my finger on that thing! I saw what happened to Sleeping Beauty!”

Haut nods in agreement. “Sounds dangerous. Who knows what diseases it could carry.”

“But think about it, Rowe,” Levi drawls, his brown eyes sparkling. “You’ve been wanting an amulet of your own, right? This might be your best shot at getting one.”

I hesitate, torn between my desire for a moon madness charm and my very rational fear of needles.

What are the odds that proving my bloodline will lead to anything more than a nasty infection? But then again, what if it actually works?

Gritting my teeth, I snatch the grimoire back up and mash my left pointer finger onto the needle. Sharp pain spikes through me, like I stabbed myself with a dull knife.

“Ouch!” I yank my hand back, dropping the book again.

I pop my bleeding digit into my mouth and wait for the inevitable curse of forever sleep. Instead, the book’s cover slowly opens on its own.

A collective gasp echoes through the greenhouse, and Aris’s eyes widen with excitement. “Wow, Rowe, you actually did it!”

“Go me.” I’m far less impressed with my skills at being born into this weird-ass clan of Rothaven witches.

I reach out to turn the first page, revealing the ancient text of… well, I haven’t got a clue what it is, because I can’t read a damn word.

Dismayed, I spin toward Aspen. “It’s all in German!”

“Let me see.” Aspen reaches out for the grimoire.

“Nerd power activate.” I pass the book over to him, but as soon as his fingers touch the cover, it slams shut with a resounding thud.

“Only a Rothaven can read it,” Aris explains, looking apologetic. “Sorry.”

“Great,” I huff. “So now we have a grimoire that requires a blood sacrifice to open, and I can’t understand the spells.”

“Maybe you could try translating it?” Tris suggests with a shrug. “There’s gotta be a dictionary at the library.”

I throw back my head with a groan. “But we already have so many Wendall grimoires to translate!”

Aspen passes the ancient tome back to me. “Join the nerds. Learn German.”

“You say that like it’s easy.” I turn to Tris. “Give me your phone.”

He hands it over without question, and I impale my throbbing finger on the needle again, because what’s a little bloodletting between me and ancient artifacts?

The cover opens, and I flip the first page to reveal a cramped line of what I’m hoping is a keynote section. Opening the camera app, I snap a picture.

The cover slams closed, nearly jumping off the table as it rejects this plan. But it wasn’t fast enough.

“Ha!” I point my bleeding finger at it. “Modern technology for the win!”

Aspen takes the phone from me, zooms in on the photo, and chuckles. “Congratulations. We now know the births and deaths of those in the Rothaven family.”

The grimoire doesn’t have a face, but it still looks smug from where it sits tightly locked up.

“New idea.” I clench my fists. “We rip the pages out.”

A whimper escapes Aris. “Please don’t.”

Tris wraps his arms around my head, patting me soothingly. “There, there. Calm the urge to destroy.”

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