Page 110 of Sigils & Spells

“I want to show you something.” Vixen flicked the clasp on her little clutch and pulled out her phone.

A minute later she handed it to me. The image on the screen was a book, the tan leather worn and stained, with a sigil burned into the cover. I didn’t recognize the elaborate mark.

“Scroll to the end,” she ordered.

The next two images presumably were inner pages of the book. Not only was the writing illegible, I felt compelled to look away.

I swallowed hard. Merciful Lady. I was looking at a private familial grimoire. One spelled

so only the witch who’d written it could read it, or one of their descendants. What was written on those pages? And why did Vixen have a picture of it? The next image showed a spiral-bound notebook. The writing was little more than spikey scrawls, a few decipherable words, but most of it was either shorthand or a personal code.

“Why are you showing me these?”

“Leesa Lang lives in that building.”

I looked up from the phone to where she pointed. A six-storied apartment building kitty corner from where we sat. Instead of being relieved that Vixen shared the last name and where Leesa lived, my churning stomach told me I wouldn’t like what she told me next.

“Third floor. Apartment 315. There’s a key swipe for residents to get past the vestibule, but that won’t be a problem for a witch like you, will it?”

The fine hairs on the back of my neck raised. Alarm bells clamored in my head. I couldn’t look away from the building.

“Leesa isn’t home. She’s got Connor playing chauffeur for her and he’s under orders not to bring her back for another hour. Franz hasn’t stayed there for several days. He’s working at the University right now and usually doesn’t leave until late evening. Rafi believes Franz has found a magic elixir. He wants both of these books. He’s happy to pay you for your time and trouble. In fact, as a down payment, he’s prepared to issue a statement that you’re working for him to help track down the witch killer.”

Panic seized me. With help like that, I could kiss my life in Kingston goodbye. Me working for a vampire. Not just any vampire. A Prime. Those who didn’t shun me for that alone would turn on me when my name was linked with a witch killer. “As generous as that offer is, it really isn’t necessary.”

She made a low, throaty chuckle. “Rafi thought you might say that. So he instructed me to tell you in exchange for the books hewon’tissue the statement.”

“The books might not be in there.” I hated the desperate whine in my voice.

She shrugged. “Bring us whatever you can find.”

“He won’t be able to read the grimoire,” I rasped out. “It’s spelled. I can’t read it if that’s what he thinks.”

“Let him worry about that.”

The car door opened. I snapped my head around to see Vixen exiting the MINI Cooper.

“You’ve got our number. Call before you drop by. Thanks for theRejuvenate. See you later.” She slammed the door, crossed in front of my little car, and hopped into a black Hummer idling beside me. The massive vehicle was hard to miss and I hadn’t even noticed it sitting there.

Vixen lowered her window. “One hour.”

The Hummer drove away.

I stared at the apartment building again. What had I gotten myself into?

CHAPTER8

“Stupid, stupid witch.”I slammed the car door shut. I’d been so bound and determined to learn Leesa’s name I walked right into Rafi’s trap. A murdered witch and kidnapped wolf shifter didn’t faze him in the least. All he cared about was getting his hands on another vampire’s research.

I kicked my poor abused car tire before heading to the building. I should have called Aidan, given him everything I knew, and lethimcontact Vixen. Then I’d be at the shop right now, crafting charms or restocking shelves or working the register. But no, here I was, about to break into a witch’s apartment and steal a grimoire that might have a power elixir for vampires in it.

I waited for a city bus to go by, then crossed the street.

What kind of protection spells did Leesa have on her apartment? Hopefully not another amplifiedlock-tightspell. I couldn’t afford to be wiped out if I wanted any hope of searching for the books.

This was insane.

Feeling light-headed and jittery, as if I’d mainlined two double espressos, I fumbled the phone out of my pocket, nearly dropping it. It took me a few shaky tries to reach the recent calls icon and find Aidan’s number.

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