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With any luck, I’d get a chance to put my supplies to good use before this week was over.
Chapter Two
The girl looked like a volleyball player, all long legs and sleek blonde ponytail. With a ready smile for everyone she encountered, Kinsley Johnson seemed harmless. But I, of all people, knew how deceiving looks could be. It would take a while to determine how deeply she was involved.
After a morning of tailing her as she ran mundane errands, I’d been sitting at this antiquated computer for the last twenty minutes. It had a clear view of most of the room, including the children’s area where Kinsley led summer story time. The city library was a popular place for high schoolers to rack up volunteer hours that looked good on college applications. Another thing we had in common. I’d spent many days here volunteering when I was her age.
Kinsley hadn’t bothered with a chair, sitting in the middle of the circle with her legs tucked underneath her and a toddler in her lap. When she finished reading the third book, she relinquished the toddler before standing to stretch. As I suspected, Kinsley handed her name badge to the front desk and glanced around before ducking into the special collection room.
Although it was housed in the public library, the special collection was a coven repository of old grimoires and books on witchcraft. It was heavily warded. Only coven members could enter. The ward was set up to repel non-witches, making most library patrons give it a wide berth.
I gave Kinsley a couple minutes before following her. Hopefully, the coven hadn’t revoked my status. I reached for the door, relieved when the ward granted me passage.
Inside, the space was far bigger than it appeared from the outside. While there was only a single entry, the room ran half the length of the building. The front area held library tables, each equipped with a table lamp and notepads. Beyond the tables were rows of bookcases arranged by access level. The first two were filled with books that may as well have been housed in the main library—generic history, plant encyclopedias, and general reference books. The next few contained instructional books for novice witches. Nothing too dangerous or too exciting.
You had to get five bookcases deep to discover anything worth coming in here for. A demarcation line carved into the floor lit up with visible magical wards to warn off the unauthorized. Beyond the line were the collected grimoires of the founding families, books on sigils and summonings, and tomes that skated the edge of forbidden magic. The ward was keyed to only let authorized individuals pass, which limited access to coven leadership. And, at one time, me.
As a teen, that section had drawn me like a moth to flame. It had taken me almost a year of weekly attempts to learn how to bypass the wards. Once I gained access, I’d spent countless hours back there hunched over old books. Since there was no sign of Kinsley, she’d obviously figured out how to get past the wards as well. Strike one.
Rather than heading straight to the back, I paused to pick up a book on magical plants. I felt the zing of power as I crossed the line to the forbidden section. Surprisingly, the coven hadn’t discovered that I’d granted myself access all those years ago and hadn’t bothered reinforcing their wards.
I shook my head. Any sensible witch would refresh the wards at least annually, but the thing about small towns was that even when something bad happened, everyone convinced themselves it was an anomaly. If only that were true, I thought as I searched for Kinsley.
I found her bent over a familiar book, a little library pencil and scrap of paper in her hands.
“Hello,” I said brightly. My voice startled Kinsley into fumbling the book and dropping the paper. She toed her notes behind her and kept her eyes on me.
A flash of guilt crossed her face before she caught herself. Kinsley shielded the book she’d been reading against her body and glowered at me. “Who are you?” She squared her shoulders and faked bravado, the telltale shake in her hands the only giveaway.
The trembling hands sealed it. She was in over her head. It was impossible to look into her eyes and not see sixteen-year-old me gazing back.
“My name’s Olivia, but my friends call me Liv.”
She frowned. “Did you just move here or something? I know everyone in the coven.”
“I grew up here.” I waved the plant book I carried as a prop. “Came home for a visit and a little research.”
I was going off script here, which meant there was a solid chance my boss would have my hide when I returned to the Compound. Aleksei only agreed to let me on this job in an observational capacity. When begging hadn’t worked, I’d convinced him that my ties to the community would be an asset. I had access to spaces others would not—like this one—which was a boon during surveillance. But Aleksei had made it clear that my personal history limited my role. Eyes only.
He’d sent Grif along to mete out justice should the investigation prove Eli was back to his old tricks. Although she didn’t know it, Kinsley was bait. And good bait was expendable. To Grif, this op was another day at the office. He would be content to sit back and watch the disaster play out, whether it cost Kinsley her life or not. I should follow his lead.
I peered over the top of the book she clutched to her chest. “Whatcha got there, Kinsley?”
She swallowed nervously and snapped the book shut. She slid it back into place on the bookshelf before meeting my eyes and tipping her chin. “I was doing some genealogy research. Looking into my ancestors.” Her brows pinched. “Wait. How do you know my name?”
I smiled. “I heard you introduce yourself to the kids during story time.”
She nodded, but her posture didn’t relax. Smart girl.
“Genealogy, huh?” I tapped the spine of the book she’d been holding. “You might have better luck finding your great-great-grandma’s name in one of the founder’s grimoires instead of a book of forbidden incantations.”
Kinsley shifted her weight and glanced behind me to the door like it was a lifeline. Her pulse kicked up, and her breathing shallowed. She was edging toward panic. Time to cut this short.
“Hey, don’t look so scared. When I was your age, I snuck back here, too.” I winked at her. “I’m not going to rat you out.”
Some of the tension left her body. “Thanks.” She offered me a shaky smile. “I should go.”
“Wait.” I bent down to retrieve the paper that had fallen to the floor earlier. “You dropped this.” I offered it to her without looking at it.
