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Eric hesitated to reach for the drawer. He was going to take it only for research for now, he tried to ease his conscience. He was intrigued as to why Sorrel thought the book no longer spoke to her. Or maybe she had said that out loud to trick him into taking it. On some level she was cognizant that she was being watched, thanks to his phone and this sixth sense she seemed to possess. Or did he want to believe that she was so cunning so that he didn’t loathe himself for what he was about to do? He hated himself enough already after hearing her pour her heart out to the book about him. Why the woman cared for him so much he had no idea. Was fate so cruel to bring born enemies together like this? Or was it the damn curse torturing them?
Eric decided to take his chances and steal the book. He reached out, and only his arm was made visible as he turned the knob. The secret drawer popped out, revealing the key to his freedom. He hesitated to reach for the book that shined as vibrant as its owner. And, as if Tara knew what he was going to do, she jumped up, trying to bat his arm away with her paw. He had to know the truth. He swiped the book before what little conscience he had got the better of him.
When he took ahold of the book, it hummed in his hands. He wasn’t sure if that was a warning or a congratulations. Regardless, he pulled the book to him and shut the drawer. He took one last look at Sorrel’s bright and airy room, smelling the eucalyptus and honey scent in the air. “I’m sorry,” he whispered before jumping to the next shadow. It was trickier to navigate when he was holding an object, and thankfully no one was around, as he could be seen for the split second he was out of one shadow and into the next. He played this careful game all the way to his car, which he had parked outside of town.
By the time he reached his car, he’d had quite the workout and had broken a sweat. Once he was inside, he took several deep breaths, trying to get the feeling back in his body while staring at the green-leafed book in the passenger seat. Like Sorrel, he didn’t know what was real anymore. He hoped to find more clarity as he studied the book, both in his heart and mind.
He raced home and rushed up to his apartment with Sorrel’s book. And though he hadn’t eaten in hours, he had no desire for food. Instead he hopped onto his bed with her book and retrieved his book from under the bed where it was hidden in the shadows. He settled against his pillows with both, ready to do some serious research. With delicacy, he brushed his fingers over the odd cover of Sorrel’s book. For some reason he thought he would feel more connected to her, but all he felt was a tiny vibration, as if the book recognized his energy.
He opened the books and took note of the stark differences between his and Sorrel’s, from the pages’ textures to the gold ink in hers and silver in his. It made him wonder what the Aelius family’s book had looked like long ago. It was sad to think how the families had once coexisted peacefully and now it was down to his murderous family and Sorrel. It made him wonder if Sorrel had been lying about being an orphan. Her mother’s death was more than suspicious, and they had never recovered a body. If she was lying about her mother, what else had she lied about?
Eric read the first few of the pages of her book. They contained instructions on how to make elixirs for common ailments—headaches and stomachaches. With each page they got more complex—cures for cancer and heart disease. At the same time, it wasn’t all roses and sunshine. There were elixirs for truth serums and even to induce arousal. Had Sorrel used those on him? Her customers? He thought back to their first meeting, and he was naturally aroused by the memory of her. Or was it the damn curse? No. Any man would be attracted to her. Though what if she was taking her own elixirs? He groaned and looked up at his water-stained ceiling, not knowing what the hell to believe.
He flipped to the back of her book, assuming that’s where the book spoke to her. He easily found the page, but what he found was unsettling. Sorrel wasn’t lying when she said the book didn’t speak to her. In fact, it never had. The last line was dated just over five years ago.
