And then everything returning to its place as if all those books just needed to stretch their spines and stir up a little mischief.
“Given the timing of it,” he says now, shooting the currently silent Codex a wary glare, “I’m fairy certain it’s connected to the magical surge you experienced after the crash.”
“Which may or may not be connected to this mysterious protection amulet.”
The amulet sits on the mantle—he was looking into its origins, along with all the other mysteries of my life—and I pick it up. Just like the first time, it warms and pulses at my touch, immediately synching with my heartbeat.
For the briefest instant, something stirs inside my chest. Ancient and faint, but powerful—just like that strange magic I tapped into in the forest.
It fades before I can really pin it down.
“Draegan was right about the amulet,” Rook says. “It’s definitely fae-made, and it’s clearly attuned to you and you alone. From my preliminary searches, based on the shape and style, and the materials used, it’s only about ten years old. And it’s not dark-fae forged, but light fae.”
“Light fae? What does that mean?”
“It means that whoever commissioned it for you wanted to protect you against the dark fae.”
“Even though I’ve got dark fae ancestry?”
Rook practically snorts. “Our ancestors are often the ones we most need protecting from.”
“Fair,” I say with a laugh. But then the rest of his words click into place in my mind. “Wait… ten years? That would mean it couldn’t have come from my mother. She died more than twenty years ago.”
“Exactly.”
“Who, then? My father?”
Rook shrugs. “We have no way of knowing. All evidence indicates that your father was the one who put it in the lockbox, and he wanted you to find it with the SSD card. He must’ve known it was meant for you, or there’d be no point in giving it to you at all—it’s nothing but a pretty ornament in the hands of anyone but the person it was created for. But… that’s all we know.”
“Goddess. Justonce, I’d like a solid answer on something instead of a million new questions.”
“Me too, West. But I think we’re getting closer. Check this out—it’s what I wanted to tell you about Zorakkov.”
Setting the amulet back on the mantle, I follow him to his worktable and take a seat beside him on the bench. His wing curves around me, and I lean in closer, taking comfort in his calm, stately presence.
Flipping through the old journal he mentioned, he stops at a page where he’s made some notes in the margins, complete with colored tabs. I smile at his nerdy adorableness.
“Apparently, Zorakkov’s been looking to hitch a ride topside for ages,” he says. “He’s got a long history of bargaining with the fae. According to the occult scholar who wrote this journal, the demon prince and the dark fae nobles would often trade favors in the form of hellbound human souls.”
“What would the fae want with human souls?”
“Dark magic, most likely. Fae can use objects as well as creatures from hell—including the souls of the damned—to bind curses.”
I gasp. “Holy shit, Rook. Like yours?”
“It’s possible, yes. Though our curse is so strong and so old, it’s likely they needed more than a damned soul to bind it.”
A shiver snakes down my spine. “So what did Zorakkov get in return?”
“I’m not sure, specifically, but considering he wanted to fully manifest here, it must’ve had something to do with that. Maybe he thought he could travel here freely through the fae portals, or that the fae nobles could craft some sort of dark magic spell to bind him to a living vessel. When that didn’t work out, it seems he turned his sights on the mages.”
“And Hunter, and his little wifey augmenter.” I blow out a breath. “You know, now that we’re talking about this…Shit, Rook. The dark fae thing—I saw something about the dark fae in Eloise’s thoughts the other night.”
The fire pops, and his wing draws closer around my shoulders. “Tell me.”
“I forgot about that particular detail because it was just a flash, and everything else was such a confusing mess, but there was definitely a dark fae male. The same one that’s been making random appearances in my nightmares.”
“You’re sure?”
