Page 42 of The Spell Caster

“You look incredibly lovely,” he said, presenting me with the cloying bouquet.

I gave a nervous, unconvincing laugh. Fate stuff me in a hole and leave me to rot. He does think this is a date.

“Thanks, um… you always look great,” I said without real feeling. My mind flashed on the way Costi had looked at me at the harvest party.

Calamus led me to the table. I’d never seen him wearing anything but formal crimson spell caster robes—a fitted tunic with a long, flared outer jacket. Tonight was no exception. He was attentive, smart, and kind, but he didn’t do it for me.

There’s really only one person who does it for me, I thought with a slow shiver of awareness. Costi wouldn’t be caught dead in a fancy eatery. I remembered stolen evenings, laughing and running, pulling out mismatched snacks to share on a seaside rock or a rooftop under the sunset.

Calamus had already poured me a glass of water from the pitcher. Seeing that I had joined him, one of the attendants brought us the first dish of the evening’s menu, a cold summer vegetable soup and a basket of warm bread slices. There wasn’t any room on the table for the flowers, so I sat with them awkwardly in my lap.

“I’m glad you agreed to meet me,” Calamus said, smiling gently. “I’d really love to get to know you better.”

“That’s great,” I said, trying to think of a way not to drag this out.

Concern clouded his handsome face. “What happened to your arm?”

“It’s nothing.” I stirred my soup around unenthusiastically. “I heard you might have an idea about my familiar.”

“I suppose I should tell you about that first.”

“If you don’t mind,” I said. “I’ve been worried about it.”

“I spent some time researching various texts about familiars without much success,” he began.

I nodded politely, nibbling on the bread. I’d done the same.

“I think I mentioned my interest in circle spells. I’ve been helping compile a database of sorts, cataloging ancient forms that are no longer used. You’re probably surprised that nothing like that exists already, but there are thousands of circle spells that have been lost to us.”

“I never considered that before,” I said, trying to sound interested. Circle magic was slow and boring, and after working the summoning circle so many times without success, I was ready to leave it behind forever.

Calamus nodded, impassioned. “Circlewrights have largely been reduced to making witch lights and other things of that nature, but in the past, they were much more involved in our fight against the angels.”

I made a noncommittal sound, shifting the overly perfumed bouquet of flowers in my lap and giving up on eating entirely.

“So, I searched through the database, and I came across something that I think can help you.”

I perked up. “You found a circle spell to find lost familiars?” Maybe he was onto something.

“Something almost as good.” He smiled. “I found one to contact Hell.”

I blinked rapidly in surprise and schooled my expression. “That’s… interesting,” I said diplomatically, all hope I’d had of a real solution draining.

“Apparently, we maintained regular communication even up until four or five hundred years ago,” Calamus continued. “The spell itself is a thing of genius. There’s a sort of object of power on the opposite side—in Hell, I assume—then we work the circle on our side—”

“And the councilors agreed to let you try this?” This was pure fantasy, a complete waste of everyone’s time.

“Well, yes,” he said, surprising me. “The Arcaenum understands the potential benefits of renewing our alliance.”

“Oh…”

“But of course, we’ll start with asking them about your familiar. Hazel, the library assistant I mentioned, has been studying everything about the demonic language that she can find for years. She’ll be able to translate.”

I released a slow breath. A demon language? Calamus had a familiar—he knew they didn’t have a language. And he’d somehow convinced the Arcaenum to try this? Were they just humoring him because his dad was one of their councilors?

I was saved from replying right away by the arrival of the next course, which I frowned over. It was a salad with a variety of beans, covered with chunks of red. Roasted beets? Disgusting.

“Calamus, to be honest, this all sounds… pretty implausible.”

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