“Touch it again,” he says.
I run my fingers along the lettering, and once again, the chant appears. He can’t see it, but I can.
“Holy shitcakes,” I whisper.
“It’s her magick.” Kirin looks up at me with wide eyes full of astonishment. “Try another one.”
I grab the next notebook from the pile and go through the motions. The same thing happens, this time with another verse.
“You’re picking up on her magick,” he says, getting to his feet. “She must’ve known you would come back here… She left this for you and…” He’s pacing the room now, a broad smile stretched across his lips. “Of course! Why didn’t we think of it? This is amazing!”
“Kirin, what are you talking about?”
He stops pacing long enough to grab my shoulders, his energy pulsing out in excited, hopeful waves. “The key to cracking the prophecies isn’t in the actual words, it’s in the magick itself. Your mother put some sort of locking spell that only you could access. Maybe it’s tuned to you specifically, if she did it after she found out about her pregnancy. Or maybe it’s just keyed to her blood, to any of her descendants.”
“Do you understand the chants? Because they still sound pretty damn cryptic to me.”
“Not off the top of my head, but if we pair the verses with the card positionings she recorded, it may start to unlock some of her symbology, thereby unlocking some of the more complex language from the later research.” He pulls me into an unexpected hug, his heart banging wildly, his strong arms holding me close. “Stevie, we’ve been at it for fifteen minutes and we’ve already had a major breakthrough.”
I lean into his embrace, my own heartbeat mimicking his, my body buzzing with the same excitement.
When he finally pulls back, his eyes are glazed his hair disheveled. His hands slide to my upper arms, warm and solid, and for a moment it looks like he just might—
“Wait, the dream!” I blurt out, unintentionally breaking the trance.
Disappointment flashes in Kirin’s eyes as we break apart, but it’s probably for the best. Kissing him is definitely a terrible idea, especially now that we’re colleagues.
Ugh, priorities.
“My mother came to me in a dream last night,” I continue. “She said something that sounded like a similar chant.”
I close my eyes, repeating it word for word.
Book of shadow, book of mists
What magick draws, you won’t resist
Death to those who shun its call
Where one shall rise, the others fall
Book of shadow, book of mists
The truth emerges from the myths
Flame and blood and blade and bone
What starts with zero ends with one.
When I finish, I open my eyes and ask him what he thinks.
He looks a little pale, but then blinks at me and says, “Can you write it down for me?”
“Sure. There’s got to be something with the zero and the one, right? And maybe the mention of blood?”
“Yeah,” he says, but I can tell he’s distracted, his mind already racing again.
“Kirin, do you know what she might’ve meant by ‘book of shadow, book of mists?’ Does it sound like a real book to you? Before she started chanting, she said something about a dark book.”
