Page 48 of The Tree of Spirits
I coughed, choking on the smoke. It burned all the way down my throat, singeing my lungs. Thanks to the mystery I’d gotten tangled up in yesterday, I’d returned to work late, and now this was my penance. Today I had to brave the heat and smoke to pick up lunch for everyone.
And I do meaneveryone. All the Apprentices were working together at the conference center today, scrubbing the place from top to bottom. The Summit was just a few days away, and the Gaian Government wanted every tile, banister, and toilet seat to sparkle.
I hurried through the Magic Emporium, trying to keep my breaths shallow and short so I didn’t inhale too much of the smoke. I passed a TV outside one of the shops. Today, the news flickered between two hot topics.
Citizens taking to the streets in protest all across the Fortress.
AndOperation: Free Gaia, the Knights’ big Quest.
A montage of Knights fighting the Cursed Ones in the Park was juxtaposed against clips of angry protestors marching, rallying against the arrival of supernatural delegates from the Many Realms Court.
I rushed past the TV, saying a silent prayer for Conner and Kato. I really hoped they were all right.
“Hello, dearie.”
Mistress Meeta had planted herself in my path. She was wearing the exact same fortune-teller get-up from the other day.
“How did you find me?” I asked.
This wasn’t the same backstreet where I’d encountered her last time. And yet she looked right at home here with her tent dripping in silks and satins, saturated with the scents of cinnamon and chicken.
“Mistress Meeta sees all,” she intoned in a deep, mysterious voice.
“Riiight.” I tried to sidestep her.
But she matched my movements, blocking me. “So, dearie, have you considered my offer?”
“Uh…”
“For you to purchase the Paragons of Magic spellbook,” she reminded me with an indulgent smile.
And then the book was suddenly in her hands, that familiar white cover with embossed black lettering. Something about that book drew me in, daring me to touch it. No, not just to touch it. To breathe it in, to taste it. To devour those spells one by one until they were part of me.
I drew back my hand before I did anything reckless. “Is it dangerous?”
“Magic is always dangerous in the wrong hands.”
I was resisting the urge to reach for the book again—but only just barely. “And how do you knowmyhands are the right ones?”
Mistress Meeta’s only response was a cryptic smile.
Was Rane right? Was the fortune teller trying to hoodwink me into buying the book? Maybe a few of the Apprentices—the kids from Victory came to mind—had hired her to pull a mean prank on me. Maybe if I took that book, this would all blow up in my face.
But then why did the book feel like it was meant for me?
“I can tell you’re still skeptical.” Mistress Meeta smacked her lips. “Tell you what. I’ll give you one of the spells from the book for free. A sample before you buy.” There was a sharprrrrip!as she tore out one of the pages.
“You destroyed the book!” I gasped in shock.
A chuckle buzzed on her bright red lips. “Never mind that, dearie. The page will grow back.”
Books with regrowing pages? That was a whole other level of weirdness.
Mistress Meeta handed me the torn page. “I’ll be seeing you soon, when you come back for the rest.”
I looked down at the page. “How can you be so sure?”
But when I looked up, Mistress Meeta was gone. And so was her tent.
