Page 117 of The Shadow Key

‘Skin. It feels like skin.’

‘Yes.’

They look at each other. Henry shakes his head in wonder.

‘What is this?’ he asks, and Linette shuts her eyes, suspicions now confirmed.

It can only be one thing, something she has only ever read about in her book of folklore, or heard from stories Enaid told her long ago.

‘A grimoire,’ Linette answers, opening her eyes once more. ‘A book of magic, compiled by whoever it belongs to. It includes methods of crafting talismans and amulets, instructions for casting spells.’ She licks her lips. ‘It tells how to invoke otherworldly beings such as angels, spirits, deities. And …’

‘And what?’

‘Demons.’

Henry says nothing. Fearfully Linette runs her fingers across the page.

‘Witches would make their grimoires from what they called virgin parchment. It is made from the skin of a young goat, stretched and dried out to make paper. Then the pages are blessed and sewn into a book.’

His face is hard in the candlelight as he looks down at the feather Linette had put down on the desk, the book, its strange symbols. Then he attempts a half-hearted smile.

‘You know,’ Henry says quietly, ‘that I do not believe in witches or grimoires or magic. It is clear, however, that Julian does.’ His fingers hover over the image, the bleeding hen. ‘The Order of Berith,’ he murmurs. ‘That, then, is what his Hellfire club is called. It sounds cultish, and there’s no denying this book is ritualistic in nature. But to what purpose?’

Tiredly he turns the page to reveal the symbol from the cover of the book drawn on the page beneath. Under that, English words. Together, she and Henry bend forward to read:

Whosoever breaks a covenant with Almighty Berith will be devoured by a beast of darkness, and that sinner’s soul shall belong completely unto Him.

‘Covenant,’ Henry murmurs. ‘An agreement. And look … the sigil is slightly different. Berith,’ he reads, tilting his head at the letters spaced out within the symbol’s disc. ‘Berith is a person, then?’

‘Or a demon.’

The words sits between them a moment. Outside, the tree branches sway, rustling their leaves.

‘Look,’ Linette whispers, ‘there’s more.’

To ensure salvation the bargain must be struck with the sacrifice of one’s own ancestral lifeblood, the bond of two united.

‘Bond of two united …’ Henry repeats under his breath, and with a frustrated sigh Linette moves the candle from one hand to the other.

‘It makes no sense, no sense at all!’

‘Not yet, perhaps,’ he murmurs. ‘But it obviously means something. What are these?’ Henry points to a series of strange symbols set below the last line of text:

Linette shakes her head. They look similar to all the other symbols scattered within the book. With a sigh Henry turns the next page but it is blank, as is the next and the next.

There is nothing else.

Henry rubs a tired hand across his face, goes back to the page of English handwriting.

‘Let’s find something to copy this down with,’ he says. ‘It’s all we can do.’

He opens the drawer, bends to search it. Stills.

‘What’s wrong?’

He does not answer, pulls something out, something long and thin, wrapped in black silk. Very slowly Henry begins to unwrap it, revealing the point of a gold dagger …

He lets the silk drop, holds it between them like a talisman. Linette raises the candle, and in the gutter of the flame the dagger almost appears to glow. The symbol, the symbol of Berith, is carved into the blade, and both she and Henry look at it, mesmerised.

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