Page 123 of Crown of Tides and Fury

“Sure but we should move it to the table,” he said, but he didn’t come any closer.

I picked it up, carefully. He hurried to his usual spot and switched on the overhead lamp he and his brother used. I placed the box in the circle of bright light. Neither of us bothered to sit. I took a second to make sure my heart was beating, then scooted the lid all the way off.

A massive black book filled the space with a large, smudged envelope attached to the cover. The outer edges had a beveled design—the cover itself was carved wood. Reflecting the light was a long, sharp blade that ran half the length of the box on one side. A mean little surprise for anyone unlucky enough to touch it.

“I can’t believe Wickham wasn’t cut.”

“Perhaps any blood would do.”

“Probably, because I’m pretty freaking certain I don’t have Fae blood in me.”

“Perhaps not. But that would mean the old one lied.”

“That makes no sense. Why say they can’t be opened? So Wickham wouldn’t try?”

“He did try. He tried them all. But the straightest way to the truth is reading what’s inside.” He reached for the envelope but pulled back. “If the box answered to yer blood, perhaps ye should…”

An ominous boom of thunder confirmed the storm wasn’t over yet, and a nervous laugh escaped me. “No time to mess around, right? The others will be up soon.”

Flann nodded without looking away from the box.

No booby traps tripped when I took the edge of the envelope and lifted. The corners stuck slightly, and when I pulled it free, four little smears of something sticky were left behind. Flann touched one and smelled his finger.

“Sap.”

Large letters were carved into the center of the book.BIBLE, followed by smaller ones.St. James Version.

“Bible? Why save a copy of the Bible?”

“Sure but the letter will tell us.” Flann put his hands in his pockets like he might be tempted to take the envelope away from me if I didn’t get on with it.

I turned it over and gasped. A name was written across the seal.

Lennon Todd.

* * *

There wasmovement somewhere in the house. Maybe the kitchen.

Flann’s eyes widened like we were about to get caught with our hands in the cookie jar. “Let’s take it to the parlor, eh? Just ye and I? So we needn’t waste time explainin’?”

“Yeah, sure, sure.” I was glad he was with me since my brain was stuck on pause.

“Bring the box.” He hurried to the couch, placed Wickham’s book inside its container, then removed the little strip of tape. He then stacked both boxes against the wall in their usual spot. It might take someone a second or two to realize one was missing. He came back to the table, switched off the lamp, then shook my arm. “Move, Lennon, but mind the sharp edge.”

In case the lid slid shut again, I tucked the envelope in the pocket of my robe, not trusting the box to open for me a second time, even if I had the courage to cut myself. I set the lid on top but askew, then picked it up from the bottom and followed Flann out of the room. Once in the parlor, he closed the doors and flipped a small latch in the handles. It wouldn’t stop anyone who was intent on getting inside, but it gave me a strange sense of relief.

He forced a smile and carefully took the box from me, set it on the blue leather couch closest to the fireplace, then came back and took my hands in his. “Ye’re hands are pure Baltic. I’ll light the fire. Come sit.” He led me over and urged me to sit beside the bible’s box.

Bible, contents known.

And one little envelope? How much trouble could it be?

I tried to tell myself that the first book, the Grandfather’s register, had only contained useful information. Thanks to it, we now had four powers in our camp. So, if the Grandfather were truly trying to help us, the envelope should guide us to the next step. Inside might be pure gold, useful-wise.

“I’m only freaking out because this has my name on it,” I said quietly, and pulled it from my pocket. “Obviously, the old man knew my name, if he sent Wickham to find me, right? So I shouldn’t be surprised. And it’s not as if these boxes were buried hundreds of years ago, right? The guy’s only been dead a year or so.”

Flann gave me a noncommittal wink and patted my shoulder before he sat down in the chair closest to me. He leaned back as if there was no rush, but his fingers gripped the chair arms. He didn’t want to get caught any more than I did.

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