Page 23 of A Snowed in Valentine's

“Grimoire,” Daphne corrected. “It’s a book of spells.”

“Spells,” Carter repeated, and for a moment, Daphne could tell the woman was wondering if she’d lost her marbles. “You mean, like, magic?”

“Yes, magic. The occult. Whatever you want to call it. It’s not a terrorist’s handbook or whatever you think. It’s merely magic.” As if there was anything mere about magic.

Confusion flickered across the agent’s features. “Is there a reason you’ve got a book about magic, Miss Emerson?”

Daphne hesitated for a few seconds. “Yes, I’m a witch.”

The silence that followed was beyond uncomfortable. Even worse was the guffaw that O’Hara let out. The man’s laughter reverberated through the room. Daphne felt her teeth grind together. She remained silent, watching the agent step away from the wall and move toward the table.

“A witch, eh?” he said, his smile anything but cheerful. “That’s one thing I never expected to hear. And trust me, I’ve heard a load of crap in my time. Why don’t you perform some magic for us, huh? Go on, Miss Witch.”

“I can’t do that.”

“No one’s stopping you,” O’Hara told her. “It’s a free country. Well, except for those stupid enough to threaten national security.”

“I’m saying I can’t.” If Daphne ground her teeth any harder, she might need a trip to the dentist soon. Her handcuff chains clinked as she lifted her hand, showing the agents theKstill emblazoned on it. “I’ve been bound. I couldn’t access my magic even if I wanted to.”

“All we see is a tattoo,” Carter said with a frown that said,Quit bullshitting me.“And not a very impressive one. The security of this great nation is at stake. I’d like you to be serious with us, Miss Emerson, or you’re not going anywhere soon.”

Daphne groaned inwardly. Of course, they didn’t believe her. Humans prided themselves on their logic, although half the time, they were terrible at applying it. Carter was right. The country was faced with a serious problem right now. And this was the FBI. The last thing they cared about right now was magic.

“Well, magic or not, we’ve still got a problem here.” Agent Carter pried open the grimoire. “Whatever’s in this book, we can’t seem to figure it out. We’ve already got the best linguists on it, and so far, they’ve got nothing. As far as anyone’s concerned, the words in this book are nothing but gibberish.” Carter’s eyes flicked up to meet Daphne’s. “But I don’t think so, Miss Emerson, and I think you share my sentiment.”

When Daphne said nothing, she went on. “We need to know the contents of this book. But no one can read it. Except you, that is. You’re a linguist, aren’t you?”

“You have other linguists,” Daphne pointed out.

“They can’t seem to crack it. But I’m sure you understand the words in this book. How is that?”

She shrugged again. “It’s a language that’s been forgotten for centuries.”

“Or a code that only you terrorists understand,” O’Hara offered.

“Butyoucan translate it for us,” Carter said. “What’s in this book? Secret agendas? Doomsday plans?”

“I told you,” Daphne said, feeling somewhat irritable, “it’s a grimoire. That book is filled with magic spells. And for the last time, I’m not a terrorist. Not to mention, I still haven’t gotten my attorney.”

If Carter hadn’t held out a hand to stop him, Daphne was certain O’Hara would have lunged across the table at her.

“You think we’re here for games?” The agent’s mustache twitched. “Why, I’ve got a good mind to—”

“What my partner is trying to say,” cut in Carter, who looked like she was barely holding controlling her temper now, “is that this is a matter of utmost gravity, not only for you but us and every other US citizen. We’re all in this. That’s why we need you to cooperate with us.”

“But Iamtelling you the truth,” Daphne insisted. “You didn’t believe me when I said I wasn’t a terrorist or when I said I was a witch. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you what really happened to Flight 18.”

Carter and O’Hara shared a glance. “Spill,” Carter demanded.

Daphne thought the better of it but launched anyway into an explanation of how the plane had breached a portal leading to Frost Mountain. Why she half-expected the agents’ eyes to widen with shock as she spilled the beans, she wasn’t sure, but by the time she finished speaking, she couldn’t help but feel fairly foolish.

The agents glanced at each other again. In the silence that ensued, Daphne imagined that whoever stood behind the two-way mirror was shaking their head in second-hand embarrassment.

“I don’t believe this.” O’Hara threw his hands up in frustration. “I need to get some air before I end up strangling this fucking terrorist.”

Shooting a glare at Daphne, he stormed out of the interrogation room, slamming the door behind him.

Daphne stared at the door for a few seconds, then at her reflection. When she returned her gaze to Carter, the agent had a scowl on her face.

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