“Manifesting an orgasm?”
“Pre-cisely,” he says, not missing a beat.
“Did you just… did you just make an actual joke?”
“That depends.” He casts me a sidelong glance. “Was it actually funny?”
“Nowyou’redoing it on purpose.”
“Perhaps.” His eyes brighten considerably, and I can’t help but smile, thinking I’m the reason for the shift in his mood. For that new spark of joy flashing in his eyes. “Now that I havea better idea of your innate power, we can begin incorporating basic spellcraft alongside your reading assignments, much sooner than I’d anticipated.”
“Spellcraft? Yay!”
“We’ll need to start with the basics, naturally.”
“Naturally,” I repeat, again with his posh accent.
“A healing charm, or perhaps a simple kinetic test, really there are several possibilities. It rather depends on… yes, yes, I think that could work.” By the time he finishes his conversation, party of one, his eyes are wild with excitement and his hair is sticking up everywhere, glasses sitting crooked on his nose.
God, why does he have to be so adorkable?
“So,” he says, wrapping it all up with a clap. “I believe we’re ready to break out the big guns, as they say.”
His eyes shine. He’s been waiting for this moment. Some major reveal. Maybe he’s ordered matching T-shirts for us. Or maybe I’m getting a magic wand. Or a black cat or a flying broomstick or—ooh!—my own chaos demon to bend to my will and do my dastardly dirty work!
I stop and grin and bounce on my toes and prepare to bewowed.
Then he spreads his hands and goes, “The Bonnivarde family grimoire.”
AndIgo, “Fuck.”
eleven
MERRICK
The news of the lost grimoire is most disturbing.
Supper is out of the question, sleep eludes me, and by the following day, my cottage is in a shambles and my mind is frazzled beyond consolation, tripping over the vast impossibility of it, the irresponsibility, theaudacityof a witch in Evelyn’s position letting one of the most powerful books in the human realm out of her sight long enough for it to gomissing…
It’s taken everything I possess not to explode into my demon form and raze this entire town to the ground. Fortunately for Graves Hollow, burning a town to ash without cause or a properly executed permit results in the sort of red tape I donothave time to cut through right now. I promised I’d be on my best behavior, and I mean to avoid any disciplinary action by the Council—a punishment that would only further postpone my work in the archives. Not to mention frighten my new student. Something I’m endeavoring, for highly inconvenient reasons I shall pretend not to understand, to avoid.
I’ve yet to inform the Council of our misfortune. There’s still a chance the grimoire can be recovered, no one the wiser. Miss Bonnivarde claims to have a lead, though she refuses to share details, and this morning I find myselfwaitingfor her once again. In the town square, no less! Crawling with… withpeople. Well, two people, but still. Every one of them is a potential social interaction, a ticking time bomb waiting to explode with a “hello, there!” or “how are you today?”
Disgusting. Appalling. Utterly?—
“Excuse me, sir?”
As I was saying!
I whirl around with a scowl. A man stares up at me, small dog yelping at his feet, both of them clearly in need of my precious attention.
“Can’t you see I’m otherwise engaged?” I demand. “Not to be interrupted. Left unmolested to the privacy of myveryprivate thoughts. If I wanted companionship, I would’ve given some indication of it. A smile, perhaps. An invitation to exchange pleasantries. A nod or a wave or a… something! Well, you have my attention now. Speak!”
The man glares. The dog growls. The man glares some more. “Dude. You’re, uh, standing on the leash.”
“I see.” I lift my offending foot, the man tugs the leash free, and I’m spared the effort of an apology by the sudden whirlwind of Miss Bonnivarde, bustling into the square like a tempest, calling out for me, waving wildly, as if I could somehow miss her.
“Where have you been?” I demand, abandoning the insipid man with the dog. “I very nearly had aconversation.”
