Page 25 of Magic of the Damned

“What should I do here?” I asked.

“These books hold the strongest and most arcane magic known. Something in here should work.”

I heard the hesitation in his voice and turned to him. “What else?” I asked.

“You’ll be able to find it better than I can.”

Lifting my finger, I said, “Because of this?”

He nodded.

Of course. It all came back to the markings on my finger. It was the beginning and the end.

“What do I do?” I asked again.

“Touch the books, go through the spells, and see if you feel anything. I believe antagonistic spells will respond to it.”

“Spells that want to undo what’s in place.”

He nodded.

Find the books. Starting at the lower shelves, I ran my fingers over the bindings of the books, feeling sillier with each passing moment. Dominic urged me to continue but nothing happened. Then I took one off the shelf, slowly gliding my finger over each spell in the book. If another book bit me, dammit, I was going to bite back.

After ten minutes, there was no refuting his logic or the hard jolt and noxious feeling I got when my hand went over certain spells. I placed a gray, age-warped book on the table and took some Post-its that someone had placed in the middle of the table and marked them. It went faster than I imagined once I realized slow, deliberate movements weren’t needed. The spells wanted to be found.

I found the spells, and Dominic added them to a notebook, placing them on different pages; I assumed in categories based on their designation.

Despite the phone screen having survived being used as a weapon, it wasn’t working. No service in the Underworld. Oddly, the clock on my phone hadn’t changed. I had no idea how long I had been searching. Hours had to have passed because my stomach was growling. Staying on task was increasingly difficult. But if the only option for food was to eat with Helena, I’d starve.

“We should take a break,” Dominic suggested. “Let’s get some food.”

He had to have heard my stomach, too. Understanding my hesitation, he went on. “Helena’s long finished with dinner. But we’ll go to the kitchen. That’s one place we’ll never find her.”

“I know she eats, so why don’t you think I’ll run into her in the kitchen?” I said, following him out of the room, through the library, and down the hall. Avoiding her was my mission and not knowing how much time had passed, it was possible I could run into her again, on her way for a snack.

“She eats but doesn’t believe she should have to prepare it. She has a kitchenette in her suite so she doesn’t have to come down for anything to drink.” The sharpness of disapproval was heavy in his voice. She was a self-indulgent prima donna who enjoyed “dark entertainment.” Helena seemed terrible on so many levels.

The kitchen was a chef’s dream and larger than Books and Brew’s entire store. Black stainless steel throughout, and a large marble island near the double oven. One of the counters displayed a variety of pastries, cakes, and cookies that made my mouth water. A well-stocked wine fridge was to the left, and from what I could see it contained an extensive selection. The other door near the refrigerator was undoubtedly the pantry.

Sitting on a leather barstool at the counter just a few feet from the fridge and the dessert display, I watched Dominic while he moved through the kitchen with familiarity. He opened the refrigerator and the pantry. When he finished, he placed an assortment of cheeses and breads, berries and grapes, prosciutto, summer sausage, and smoked salmon on a platter in front of me. He moved in graceful silence as he opened a bottle of pinot blanc and poured two glasses of wine.

“I’d like water, please,” I requested when he placed one of the wine glasses in front of me. He nodded, took a bottle of water from the fridge, and poured water into a glass. “This should tide you over while I prepare something for you. Do you like steak?”

“You don’t need to prepare anything. This is more than enough. I appreciate it,” I told him, looking at a platter that could easily feed four people.

Nodding, he tilted the glass of wine he’d given me and finished it in a few swallows. He drank the other glass more slowly.

Great, drunk research. Nothing can go wrong with that.

I slid the platter over toward him to share. He took some bread and a few pieces of cheese, which I believed was just to be polite.

Eating a few berries, I took in the view from the bay window. Moroccan-style lanterns provided ambient lighting for the mélange of flowers that managed to be simultaneously intriguing and disturbing.

Dominic leaned in, his head close to mine, glimpsing what drew my attention.

“Roses.” He pointed at a section of the garden. I could feel the warmth of his skin, smell his alluring scent. Focus, Luna, focus.

He directed my attention to another section. “Black Forest calla lily, and those gruesome looking things are bat orchids, compliments of my sister’s wicked inclinations.”

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