Page 1 of Unraveled
Chapter 1
There arethree rules I must follow if I want to survive the Wild Hunt:
One, don’t wander the streets after nightfall, especially during the blood moon.
Two, don’t leave the house without Mother’s protective amulet.
Three, never look a fae in the eye.
That is... if I ever find a fae wandering our little city. I scoff at the thought, shaking my head at the memory of my father’s voice.
After all, it’s been a decade since the fae disappeared from our world, leaving behind the beasts of the Hunt.
The wood groans under my shifting feet as I balance on the narrow shelf. Exhaling a shaky breath, I stretch toward the bookshelf on the other side of the aisle.
Almost there. Sweat beads on my temple, and my fingers tremble as I trace the worn leather binding of the forbidden grimoire. The book’s magic sparks at my fingertips, wrapping around my wrist as it shifts toward me on the wood surface.
My heart jolts at the movement, and even though I’ve been coming here for a week to study its pages in my spare time, its power never ceases to surprise me.
I wrap my hand around the spine and pull the book out. Losing my balance could mean death, or a couple broken bones. But I’m tired of living in fear.
Gaining the ability to defend Irene from the beasts that took our father is worth it—even if it means breaking a few rules.
The room spins as I shift my gaze to the ground. I’m at least fifteen feet up, climbing bookcases I shouldn’t even be looking at let alone borrowing books from.
I press my lips together in an effort to stay silent and adjust my grip on the shelf to bring the heavy, magical grimoire to my chest. Breathing raggedly, I wait for my heart to stop trying to escape my body.
Perhaps Irene is right, and I have a death wish. But the threat of the blood moon every three months can make a sane person mad.
My amulet vibrates as it does when another librarian approaches. Which means I have little time to get my myself somewhere inconspicuous.
I climb with practiced ease, bringing the book with me as I descend shelf by shelf, until my bare feet hit the frigid floor.
The stone of my amulet is glowing now, illuminating the narrow corridor and the two shelves looming over me. I swallow the bitter taste of fear and rush toward my discarded boots as I tuck my necklace back under the thick layers of my cloak.
Whatever magic is inside my mother’s amulet, it’s never led me astray.
I shove a foot into my soft leather boot, and it’s a welcome reprieve from the cold. As fast as I can, I run, holding the grimoire with one hand and my remaining boot with the other.
Tomorrow, I’ll have to return it to the towering bookcases filled with the rest of the old tomes, before any of the elder librarians notice it’s missing.
I glance at the now-familiar embossed leather that binds the grimoire. Every time I borrow this one, it’s harder to give it back. The spells within its pages are too alluring, not from this world. But it’s more than that. The book begs me to not let it go.
With no windows or lamps of any sort around me, muscle memory guides me across the circular room. I lock the iron gates with the help of a spell I learned months ago, using magic I’m not supposed to wield.
Oh well, it’s not like anyone’s watching me. Sighing, I walk down the slim steps leading to the main floor. Usually, I wouldn’t dare to read this out in the hall. Right now, though, all but the assigned guardian—have left for the night. I place my book on the polished reading table and tug on my other boot. The sunrays of the late afternoon spill across the floor, casting lengthy shapes of gold and pink. I have an hour at most before I have to run home.
Magic has a particular old parchment smell. The power held in these pages also smells of leather and something woodsy I can’t place. My heart soars as the book’s glowing yellow energy snakes to my fingers, around my wrist, and into my arms.
The passages are written in a language I shouldn’t understand, but somehow, and against all odds... I do. The first time I gazed upon this grimoire, I was confused. How had the strange symbol-like letters become something I could read? Like the book was whispering the words right into my mind.
I can’t tell anyone about this. It’s forbidden for me to so much asbein that part of the library, never mind study the grimoires. I know people would think I’m crazy. No one would believe me if I told them the books talk to me.
Time slows, then speeds up. I blink at the darkness surrounding me. I blink again and notice the red glow seeping from the largest window. The air thickens, a crawling sensation slithering over my skin as I close the grimoire.
“No, no, no...” I move between bookcases standing tall like columns and reach for the windowsill.
As one of the few people in the city with an affinity for weaving small traces of magic, I’m in tune with the phases of the moon, and it’s never caught me off guard.
