Page 17 of A Bond with the Dark

“Good morning, handsome boy,” I say as he purrs. I kiss him on the top of his head.

The dream still dangles in my vision as I try to focus on making coffee, thinking about that sexy vampire haunting my dreams.

He's addicting.

As I sit at the table, drinking my coffee, I look through one of the old grimoires from the box, losing myself in the magickal words and enchantments within it.

The book is old and fragile, the pages crisp and yellow with age. A delicate cloisonné decorates the front.My grandmother's elegant script is mesmerizing; instead of reading what the words are saying, I'm paying more attention to the loops of her Gs and the swirl of her Ts.

I am so lost in thought, it's not until I hear the floorboards creak that I realize my aunts are up and coming into the room behind me.

“Oh, wow,” Hilda coos, peeking over my shoulder at the grimoire, “I haven't seen that in ages.”

“There's a bunch of them in that box. Some of Mama's, some of Grandma's,” I say.

Hilda and Maggie each pick a book. They each slide into a chair around me and open their own journals to explore.

The brittle sound of old pages crinkling as they turn, weathered to sepia, and the smell of ancient trees and magick spells taunts the air as I'm pulled into a fleeting memory: My mother, seated at the kitchen table, surrounded by flickering candles, engrossed in one of these books.

“This is interesting,” says Hilda, pulling me out of the memory.

I lean over and peek.

There are old drawings of magickal herbs and plants, notes and spells marking the margins.

“What is that about?” I ask, absorbing the colors of the beautiful illustrations.

“Some writings on plants and their uses,” Hilda says, glasses poised delicately on the bridge of her nose.

“And that?” I say, pointing to a word that looks like vampire.

“It says, One of the most potent magickal herbs known to witches and warlocks alike is Nightshade. Along with its sister plant, Latana, Vetana, or Nightshade, they are sacred plants used in several ancient civilizations, including ancient Egypt. It goes on and on.”

Why was Grandma so obsessed with this herb?

“There's more,” she continues. “Nightshade can be used for protection against demons, vampires, sirens, and fae. Then, in the margin, she wrote, Does not work against formweavers or grimspawns.”

My nose wrinkles in confusion. “What the hell is a grimspawn?”

“Someone controlled by death magick,” Maggie says, not looking up from the book she's studying. “Reanimated dead people and whatnot.”

“Um . . . what?” I hedge, letting out an uncomfortable laugh. “That's not real, right?”

Maggie looks at me pointedly. She sets the book down, switching the glasses to her head. “Well, like any myth, I guess there may be little truth to it. We'll never know for sure.”

“Mmm-hmm,” I say sarcastically, and I get the feeling she knows more than she will admit.

Her resolve is steel; she pulls the glasses back down to her nose and lifts the book.

Returning to my own, I see an entry my grandma made next to a color-pencil drawing of a beautiful woman with purple eyes.

“Oh, listen to this,” I exclaim after reading a few lines. “It says, I saw her again. This time, she spoke to me. I knew she was not a ghost, but she was something not of this world we know. I wasn't supposed to see her, though, and that is why she spoke to me. I thought she was a vampire or something . . . maybe fae. But she was not. She was of the sea.”

Hilda and Maggie exchange looks.

Hilda starts picking at her fingernail.“When was that written?”

“Nineteen thirty-four,” I say.

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