“Do you like it?” he asks nervously. “Is it helping? Even a little?”
“It’s helping a lot. It’s like a whole new world.” It’s a small lie, one I allow myself despite my general stance against them, because I don’t have the heart to tell Kirin that no amount of paint and furniture could ever make me forget how I saw this place last—my cheek pressed to the floor, the top of Phaines’s robes skimming over his boot as he lifted it over my face, the sound of bone crunching as he brought it down…
I close my eyes, forcing out the memory.
Despite what happened between us, the fact that he did this for me at all—that he wanted it to be my sanctuary—that in itself is a balm on my wounded soul.
Pulling out of the hug, I blink away the last of my tears and look up at Kirin with another wide smile, overcome with a sense of rightness and fresh starts, eager to hit the books. “All right, Genius Boy. Let’s get to work.”
* * *
“Here’s what I’m thinking,” I say, strumming my fingers on the stack of notebooks Kirin retrieved from the file cabinets. “We’ve lost Mom’s grimoire and the Journey book, so that’s out. We may be able to recreate some of the grimoire text using the prophecies in her other notebooks, but that’s going to take a lot of time—time we just don’t have right now.”
“So where do you want to start?”
“I think we should go back through all the translations we’ve done so far, this time with an eye for clues about the locations of the objects rather than just the objects and legends themselves.”
“Good idea. If we can at least narrow it down to general locations, from there, we can try to recreate the spells and reveal the specifics.”
“I’m especially concerned about finding the Wand of Flame and Fury,” I say. “Last night I had another nightmare vision. Sort of.” I tell him about Judgment, the undead, the flaming wand. “Baz and I think it might bethewand.”
Kirin bristles at the mention of Baz’s name, but I plow ahead anyway.
“Do you think it’s possible for the Wand to have that much power?” I ask. “To literally raise the dead from ashes?”
“Wands represent the spark of life and creation, so the association makes sense. But necromancy—even in the legends—is intense dark magick. It requires a lot of power, and that’s just to reanimate an actual body. Creating life—re-recreating it, rather—out of ash? I don’t know if the Wand has that kind of power on its own. Most of the legends we’ve read so far suggest the objects are at their most powerful when brought together. That it’s their very togetherness that unleashes their innate magick.”
“That’s what I thought, too, but I can’t ignore what I saw. The nightmares… They’re visions, I’m certain of it. I’m either seeing what’s to come, or seeing what the Dark Arcanawantto come. If it’s the latter, that still means it’s possible—at least, the Dark Arcana believe it’s possible. Either that, or there’sanothercrazy-powerful zombie-making wand out there.”
“Let’s hope there’s just the one,” he says grimly, rising from his chair to pace the room.
“Here’s where I keep getting hung up.” I flip open one of my own notebooks where I’d recorded my initial thoughts about the legends surrounding the Book of Shadow and Mists. “The Book of Shadow and Mists was actually two books—the Journey Through the Void of Mist and Spirit, and my mother’s own grimoire.”
“Right.”
“But the legends about the Book of Shadow and Mist are thousands of years old. So how is it possible they refer to Mom’s grimoire, which is less than thirty years old?”
“I was wondering about that myself,” he says, coming to stand behind me. “The Journey book is quite a conundrum too.”
Resting a hand on the back of my chair, he leans over and grabs for my notes on the Journey book, his chest brushing against my arm, making my stomach flutter again.
“What are you thinking?” I ask, hoping he doesn’t hear the hitch in my breath. His proximity is messing with my head. My body. My heart. All of it.
Kirin stands up again and flips through my notes. “It’s a bound manuscript, but there’s no record of it even existing. No information about the author, about any larger works or legends it may have been part of. We only know it’s part of Shadow and Mist because you made the discovery, but there’s no record of the individual title itself.”
A new thought comes to mind. “What if that’s because itdoesn’texist? Not in this realm, anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
“What if she brought it back with her from the dream realm?” I turn around to face him, but suddenly he’s leaning in close again, so close our noses almost touch.
“Anything’s possible,” he whispers, breath tickling my lips, but I know he’s not talking about my dream realm idea or the book. He’s not even listening anymore. Right now, in this moment, there’s only Kirin and me, an invisible force pulling us closer, my heart beating so loudly I’d be shocked if he couldn’t hear it too.
“Stevie…” My name falls from his lips like a sigh, and he reaches toward my face, looping one of my curls around his finger. A soft smile curves his mouth. “I’ve always loved your hair.”
Heat rises to my cheeks, the gentle touch of his fingers in my hair bringing me right back to this very room the night he told me he was falling in love with me.
…you’re smart, and you make me laugh, and I love the way your mind works, the way you question everything, the way your eyebrow does that thing when you’re thinking… I love how you throw yourself into everything you’re learning, and how you devour books, and how you always know how to make the perfect tea blend—I’ve always loved that about you, my queen of leaves. And you’re beautiful, Stevie. Every time I look at you, my heart breaks a little more, knowing I’ll have to close my eyes at some point and miss your face…
