Page 70 of In the Dark

CHAPTER 17

Morgan perused the family spell book, keeping his touch delicate on the pages, careful of the worn, scarred binding. “Where did you get this?”

“It belonged to our father and was passed down through the generations. Kept in a fire-proof, magic-proof, everything-proof safe for the better part of the last twenty years.” Astix stood looking out the window, shielding her eyes from the glare. Snow fell lightly to soften the already covered ground, reflecting the light like a mirror. She walked over and sat next to Morgan, and tapped a finger on the spine of the book. “We figured it was our best bet.”

“This is magnificent! Priceless.” Oh, he was definitely in his element here.

“We used it weeks ago to try and draw Darkness out, along with the location spell burned into Aisanna’s skin. We realized too late that she was using us. Maybe this time, we can use what we found.”

Morgan flipped indiscriminately, his gaze eating up the pages and memorizing what he saw. The scholar in him jumped for joy at the opportunity to study such a document. The magic of his heritage responded in kind to the history there. So many spells and enchantments written by those long-dead hands. Magic some may not recognize, the knowledge lost over the years, and resurrected for this special purpose. It made his insides tingle like he’d stuck his finger in an electrical socket.

“This must go back hundreds of years.”

“Three hundred and fifty-two, to be exact. Please be careful with it.”

“Of course, of course. This is a perfectly preserved microcosm of history.” His smile threatened to blind her. Morgan cradled the book on his lap, hesitant to let it out of his sight until after he’d had time to peruse it. “Does this detail the birth of your line?”

“Not entirely. There are hints here and there. Little breadcrumbs left for us to follow. I, ah, haven’t been welcome at home for the last twelve years of my life. I don’t have much information to give you on the subject. If you want more, you’d be better served asking Aisanna.”

His expression softened. “Please. Tell me what you know.”

They had gathered in the living room, with their best shot at saving Karsia nestled between them.

Astix sighed and stared at the book. “Our roots are in Eastern Europe, although most of the written accounts are from after the Puritans arrived in America searching for religious freedom. We survived the trials and inquisitions. We know from personal experience our line includes Cecilia and Vane Cavaldi through the birth of their son sometime around 1200 AD. But we don’t know his name.”

“I would love to sit down and have you tell me the whole story at some point.” Morgan would need days to prepare and a bevy of note-taking paraphernalia at his disposal. Definitely the seeds here for another research paper.

“Maybe sometime. If sometime ever comes.”

Morgan was completely absorbed, staring history in the face. He’d been around for it all, of course, but to see it from someone else’s perspective? To see the vibrant pieces of their history in their own handwriting? The opportunity was rare and one he considered priceless.

“Look at these letters. Spells, recipes…” He adroitly removed a dried stem of some herb that had been pressed between pages. “It’s simply magical.”

“Well, yeah, that’s our currency of choice. Now get your coat on.” Astix rose, grabbed her own jacket, and started outside. “You’re going to need it.” She sent the call over her shoulder.

Morgan threw his coat over his shoulders and scrambled after her, the tome tucked under his arm, his glasses askew. “I’m coming.”

Karsia would be down soon, returned from whatever mysterious errand she’d gone upstairs to accomplish. He fervently hoped it was a trip to the bathroom and nothing more. He wouldn’t put anything past her. Not anymore. She’d changed too quickly, the switch one she thought she could hide from the rest of them.

He knew better.

He’d been in her mind and knew the intricacies of her being in a way more intimate than intercourse. He could tell when she was lying. And he knew they were running out of time.

The instant the wind penetrated his clothing, his body protested crossly. He was not a fan of the cold, he decided on the spot, and tried to see the beauty in the weather. The day was fresh and clear, a smattering of flakes dotting the air. Dappled sunlight filtered through the thick black branches. No reason to expect the worst.

Although he’d never been an idealist.

The door slammed behind him and Karsia stalked out, her strides long, looking like a rabid wolf. Shoulders dropped. Arms tensed. Mouth half open.

“Not now,” she said testily, striding past him when he tried to speak to her. She kept to the shadows of the tree line and walked around the field.

Astix stomped her feet to keep the blood flowing as they waited outside for the others. “Ignore her. I’m sure she’s anxious to get this over with. The one you want is halfway through on page 266, by the way.” She gestured toward the spell book. “I think Aisanna bookmarked it.”

Morgan hated to rush and would have preferred hours of solitary time to record and analyze every nugget of information held within the aged bindings. Reluctantly, he moved to the page in question and surveyed the words written there in ancient, untidy script.

Drawings and random scrawls in Latin dotted the margins. He forced himself to focus on the spell. This wasn’t the time to get distracted.

With his finger hovering over the words, Morgan read them aloud. “Bound within and set without. Ancient power held with clout…” He squinted, pushing his glasses up higher on his nose. “How can you read this drivel?”

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