“Positive. And given the fact that Eloise is clearly in bed with Zorakkov and the shadow magic society,andshe knows I’ve got dark fae blood in my lineage somewhere, I wouldn’t be surprised if the two factions are working together.”
“Everything seems to point that way,” he says with a sigh.
“Demons and mages and dark fae…Goddess. Whatever end-of-the-world circle jerk they’re all fantasizing about, I just wish they’d leave me the hell out of it. With all that firepower, why the hell do they need a lowly witch augmenter, anyway?”
Rook cups my chin and kisses my forehead, his touch as gentle as his smile. “I think we’ve established you’re not just some lowly witch augmenter, West. We may not understand your magic yet, but it’s clear you’ve got it. Maybe it’s been bound, maybe it’s something you’ll age into later in life, maybe you just need different training to learn to recognize and tap into it… But whatever the case, it’s special.You’respecial. Don’t ever doubt that.”
His words wrap around my heart, bolstering me, lifting me out of the muck of my own dark thoughts before they spiral.
“Thanks,” I whisper, leaning my head on his shoulder.
We relocate to the sofa and get back to work in companionable silence, my feet tucked in his lap, his big hand massaging my arches as he skims back through the journal and I catch up on the notes he’s taken during my brief absence.
Dark fae. Shadow mages. Zorakkov. Hunter. The Forsythes. The amulet. My lineage, my magic, my past… All of it’s connected. There’s no denying that now.
But how? To what end?
And where does the Codex fit in? Does it truly contain a dark fae spell of unmaking? Will that be enough to free the gargoyles from their curse?
And why did it seem to explode with magic the other night at the exact time I myself connected with some deep, mysterious power?
On a hunch, I rise from the sofa and grab my amulet. Holding it in my palm, I wrap my fingers around it and close my eyes, focusing on its warmth, on its shape and texture, on its unique energy. I feel it then—like an invisible thread spooling out from my heart, traveling across my chest and down my arm, wrapping itself around the amulet and connecting us. Truly connecting us.
“West,” Rook whispers, and I open my eyes to find him staring at me with a wide gaze, his glasses pushed up against his horns, his mouth open like he can’t believe his eyes.
Chapter Fifteen
WESTLYN
I’m glowing again, just like I did upstairs. Only now the light is more violet than silver, pulsing in time with my heartbeat.
“I think the amulet is allowing me to tap into my magic. Either because it enhances it or… I don’t know. Maybe the magic needs to know I’m safe before it surfaces.” I smile, my eyes shining with wonder that borders on giddiness. This is the first time I’ve ever intentionally tried to call up something magical, and actually experienced a response. “I’m not a dud.”
Rook beams. “I tried to tell you.”
“No, you don’t understand. I’m not a dud, Rook. I’ve got magic—you’re right about that. Which means I’m not an augmenter. I can’t be! Augmenters have no magic of their own.”
Rook gets to his feet, his eyes dancing with the light of a new discovery. “I never even thought about that. You’re right, West. You’re absolutely right.”
“Which means—”
“Zorakkov doesn’t need you.”
“At least, not as an augmenter.” I close my eyes again, my thoughts racing too quickly to follow. Did Eloise and the Forsythes already know I’ve got my own magic? Does Zorakkov? Did they try to bind me to him for some other, yet-to-be revealed purpose?
Damn it. It’s yet another puzzle piece unlocking yet another thousand questions, but this realization feels different. Bigger, somehow. Important.
Rook’s right. We are getting closer. Step by step, question by question, answer by answer.
I can feel it.
“The Codex,” I say, opening my eyes. “After the storm, it’s been quiet ever since?”
“Not so much as a single spark.”
Still holding the amulet, I carefully make my way toward the other table, not wanting to set off another storm. The Codex sits quietly in the center, silent and unassuming. But the closer I get, the more I can feel its energy—like another thread reaching out to me.
I reach out with my free hand, placing my palm gently against the front cover, trying to tell it with my mind that I mean no disrespect. That I only wish to learn. That I have no ill intentions for whatever secrets it may contain.
