Magnus’s arrival and Amelia’s fascination with him made it difficult to disclose to her everything that had happened over the past few days. I cryptically explained the measures I’d taken to release my magic. Magnus’s keen expression and eyes reminded me there was a human locked in there. I was careful with my words.
“I have a very unique acquisition,” I said. “Two acquisitions.” The grimoire was still in my possession, and it was doubtfulCorrine knew of Diehle’s death. I speculated whether the grimoire could help me with my spellbook. Amelia was so distracted by Magnus she didn’t care that I left and came back with the grimoire and my spellbook. The grimoire snagged her attention with more interest than when I’d showed it to her the first time.
Ever aware of the wolf, who despite extensively enjoying Amelia’s attention as she stroked his fur, kept his ear perked, listening to every word, our conversation was reduced to coded language and exchanges of looks that I knew she got. I was silent when I placed my spellbook on her lap and she flipped through the blank pages. Her confusion heightened when I placed my hand on it, and the unique words and symbols appeared. Her eyes widened as she looked at me. The energy shift was missing the warmth of our decades of friendship and the sisterhood we’d developed. It was riddled with concern and fear. Blinking several times, she smiled, but it lacked any of her usual affection.
“Okay,” she managed through a tight, forced smile, “what do we do with this?” She held up the grimoire that I’d placed in front of me.
“It should be returned to Corrine.”
“Not before we see if it can be translated,” she asserted. I nodded, making it a priority to ask Cirrian when I saw him again. Once everyone learned about the new demon in the territory, speculation about Deihle’s absence would be on everyone’s mind. Corrine knew that I’d interacted with him.
“It would improve your standing with her.” Amelia responded to my unspoken thought. “You killed a demon? She’d probably ask you to dispose of the new one and keep doing it until they no longer wanted any part of this territory.”
She wasn’t wrong. Taking my hand, she placed it on the book again, watching the reappearance of text. Magnus’s head shotup. He turned to look at the gate and was on his feet. Then he hopped over the gate with the ease of a gazelle and was gone.
“Cirrian’s here,” I said, answering her confused look. “He responds like that every time.” Which prompted me to tell her my concerns about the lycanthropes.
“Ask him? Has he lied to you before?”
“No but he’s very good at circumvention and lies of omission.”
“You’re good at that, too, which gives you the advantage of asking questions in a way that he has to give you the truth.”
I glared at her.
“It’s a compliment. I know it doesn’t seem like one, but you’ve had to develop that skill to work with the non-breathers.” She had a plethora of unflattering names for vampires. “So ask him”—she tapped the grimoire—“and to translate this, too. It would be a good offering to my coven after telling them I no longer have magic.”
Cirrian made his appearance as we were standing up. “I’ll be in your house,” he said, disappearing before either one of us could greet him.
“Malicious compliance,” I explained. “I requested that he inform me before just popping up in my house.”
“This counts?”
“To insolent shadow gods it does. He probably believes he deserves accolades for his bare minimum compliance.”
“No accolades or appreciation needed,” he teased from the backdoor landing. He glanced at my newly acquired spellbook and the grimoire.
Amelia’s smile widened, and she marched over to him and handed him the grimoire. “We need you to translate this,” she said. His brows inched up, but he didn’t take hold of it. She pushed it into his chest, assuming he’d grab it, and let out a disgusted sigh when it fell to the ground.
He’d never win in an engagement of will against Amelia. The grimoire remained on the ground; she turned, came to me, and gave me a tight hug. “He’ll do it,” she asserted with more confidence that I could even begin to fake. It dimmed slightly when she turned to leave and found Cirrian gone and the grimoire where it had fallen.
“He is an asshole,” she grumbled before giving me a small wave and leaving.
Well, she left it on the ground, too. So was he the only one?
24
Cirrian was again studying the trinkets William had given me with intense interest. He did glance at me when I breezed up the stairs with the grimoire and spellbook cradled in my arms. I was in desperate need of a shower, a rest, and a plan to convince Cirrian to translate the entire grimoire. Even if it was of no use now, the knowledge it held could be useful in the future. Amelia was right: It would be an exceptional offering to her coven, who would now be tasked with protecting a magic-less Amelia and the thaumavore. I didn’t envy the position she was in, having to relay the information to her coven. She’d probably tell a select few, which in turn would force them into a pact of secrets, which would eventually become a source of contention.
I placed the books on the dresser and headed for the shower. Afterward, I descended the stairs not feeling nearly clearheaded or prepared enough to deal with Cirrian’s obstinacy about translating the grimoire.
He was still examining the items with the same interest as earlier, but his eyes slowly pulled from the hand-carved figure in his hand to me. “Yes, Kara?”
His dropping his little name for me wasn’t a good sign, and the professional detachment in his voice wasn’t inviting any favors.
I set the grimoire on the coffee table a few feet from him. “I need you to translate it,” I said, tapping the cover.
Cool, wily eyes made a painfully slow audit of my appearance. His eyes trailed over the dove-gray short-sleeve blouse that spilled into relaxed folds, chosen to conceal any signs of my body responding to him. I didn’t like bras. Depending on the shirt, my B-cup breasts allowed me to get away with not wearing one. I’d paired the shirt with blue jeans that hugged my curves.
