Page 39 of Forbidden Magic
I start with the book about the witches of Dark Falls, the one I forgot to check out last time, and gather a few others on Demeter’s roots. Many volumes are listed as restricted.
Flipping pages, I delay the inevitable, but I know I’ll have to ask the librarian, Mrs. Pembrooke, about it. Her purple stare narrows behind her lizard-print glasses, and she looks about as happy to see me as a pixie failing her flying permit. “Miss Winslow. How can I help you?”
“A few of these books are in the restricted section?” I hand her my meticulous list.
Her frown eases somewhat. “You want a pass for the basement?”
“I guess.”
“There’s one left, but with your…particular skills, I think it’d be best if I bounded your powers first.”
With a wince, I extend my arms and place my hands palm up in front of me. Dad used to bind my powers all the time when I was little, but it’s been a while.
I hate it. Binding my powers is painful and dangerous. If I let the magic build too much while I’m bound, I faint like a rock heading straight for the bottom of the ocean.
Of course, with my stunt from the other day, Mrs. Pembrooke will not let me visit the most revered collection of books without a fool-proof fire extinguisher.
“You can only open the books I approved from your list. Nothing else, otherwise you’ll be sorry, and you’ll be banned from the library for the rest of the quarter.”
I nod in understanding, hop down the stairs and follow the corridor, searching for the right section. The stacks are tall and tower above me, filled with volumes that are precious and ancient, but also dangerous. Black magic and arcane spells. Secrets are stocked away in these halls, and the perfume of dust and deceit pervades the air. My blood runs wild. I don’t exactly know which spells guard the collection, but everyone in the three realms has heard of this place.
The stone wall is cold under my fingers, and I head down the right stack only to find a small table tucked between two rows of books.
Cole is sitting at that table, his notebook open in front of him.
My breath hitches. “You’re here.” I pat my blazer’s pockets, but there’s no salt left. Why don’t I have any salt?
“We have the same assignment. Of course, I’m here.” His grin is cocky yet secretive. His presence unnerves me to say the least, the dim lights of the torches giving his face a warm orange glow. He removes his bag from the table and sets it on the ground like he’s making space for me.
Out there, surrounded by people, I can handle him. I brush off the Fae charm and mind-numbing beauty staring me in the face. I ignore how his arms fill the school’s uniform better than any of the other guys and how tall he is.
But this is new. Different. There is no one around to buffer our words. No witnesses.
God, it’s stuffy in here.
I shake off my blazer and plop it on the back of the chair across from him. If I leave now, he’ll know it’s because of him, so I have no choice but to carry on. I inventory the pile of books already on the table and search for the ones he hasn’t already found.
Aligning the small ladder with the right stack, I stand on the tips of my toes and grab one of the slimmest reference books.
“Went a little nuts on the tattoos, Sabrina?”
His question throws me off-guard, and I grip the ladder tight. “What tattoos?”
“No need to lie. I can see them through your shirt.”
“I don’t have tattoos.” I click my tongue. Is he trying to distract me so he can spook me with one spell or another and make me fall?
“You’re serious.” Cole hops to his feet and closes in on me.
I hurry to solid ground. The top of a black mark on my shoulder catches my eye. My stomach cramps. Panic surges, and my previous suspicions are tackled by a healthy dose ofwhat the fuck. “What—what are they?” My neck hurts from my efforts to look over my shoulder, but I can’t see.
Cole’s warm hand peels the cotton from my lower back, his fingertips brushing my skin.
I freeze, a molten heat rising in my belly. “Get your hands off me.” The words come out breathless, barely louder than a whisper.
“Shush. Let me see them.” He drags the shirt up until my back is bare to him. The fabric hugs the lace of my bra on the sides.
I tremble, my mind running laps. This has got to be a trick, right?
