“Of course,” I signed and voiced. “Because I’mher,” I boasted.
My brag earned her smile folding into a cringe-grimace. It was a staunch reminder of our six-year age difference that at times seemed like decades. Making me feel older than twenty-six. She looked at the grimoire on the console then examined me again.
“Something bad happened?” she signed.
I was racing against time and had to translate a demon spell, figure out how to use it, and hope that the fates were on my side. And I had an asshole shadow god to contend with.
Before I could tell her I’d have to catch her up later, she signed, “If you need help, let me know. Go.”
Grateful for her ability to sense my urgency, I waved goodbye and snatched up the grimoire. Darby was on me with that haunting vampire speed, giving my hand a squeeze a lot gentler than her hugs. “I like that you learned ASL. Much appreciated,” she whispered in my ear.
Her appreciation always held a level of gratitude that pushed away all the images of violence that resurfaced when I was with her. And sometimes the guilt that seeped in for being the initiator of it.
I nodded. It was advantageous to be multilingual even if it was limited to knowing how to apologize when I needed to and recognizing and speaking words of threat and violence. Living so close to a major city like Chicago, I encountered vampires from all over the world, many of whom continued to value their origins and first language.
“He’s lovely, isn’t he,” she signed before I could get out the door.
There was something in her expression that I couldn’t place.
Then she signed, “I think it’s serious.”
It took a moment to realize her comment was about the man from earlier. Understandably, Darby had trust issues. But there was more to this. Jealousy? Fear of change? It struck me: a partner. She enjoyed her position and the benefits that came with it. If Corrine took a mate, it would change the dynamics of the house. Like the House of Knight, there might be two Elites. Although it wasn’t official that William was considered an Elite, it was widely known. I suspected Darby wanted that role and believed by default it would go to Corrine’s new mate.
“Once it passes the six-month mark, then you can worry. For now, it’s just a situationship like the others,” I signed.
She rolled her eyes and grimaced. I returned the look, heading out of the house with the sound of her gentle laughter behind me.
Corrine’s help was limited to giving me the grimoire. I wondered if Darby would rescind her offer of assistance if she knew a demon spell was involved.
8
“Demon spell,” Rachel exhaled, panic and fear threading through her voice clearly enough that I could feel it through the car speakers. I’d called her the moment I was in the car, hoping she knew a spell that could translate Etruscan. She was fixated on Amelia’s current state being the result of a demon spell and not a curse, and the level of power lust or malice a witch must harbor to drive them to deal with a demon. Even more troubling was the level of duplicitous connections and reach a witch had that they could manage this without dealing with a demon. If this was a fleeting troubling thought for me, it must have posted residence in Rachel’s mind. Could this be a hint of a hostile takeover or war between the covens that no one anticipated?
“Translation spells work when there are other spells in that language. It’s like Google Translate for witches. Or the witch has to be fluent in the language, and the spell just takes from her knowledge to translate it. Translation spells are exhausting and screw with your cognition. No one likes performing them. They’d rather manually translate them.” She seemed distracted as she told me the last part.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking to see if Google translate has Etruscan,” she admitted. “Hey, it was worth a try!” she defended in response to my laughter.
“It is. And?”
“Nope. The only dead language they have is Latin.”
“Latin isn’t a dead language.” Officially it was considered one, but as it was used by witches and in religious ceremonies, I considered it a rich and useful language.
“If someone speaks to you in Latin for any other reason than a spell or a religious ceremony, there’s no way you’re not giving them the side eye. It would be weird, and you know it.” She took my silence as agreement. “So, what do we do?” she asked.
“Find someone who can translate Etruscan,” I said with the confidence of someone who could easily recruit an elderly neighbor for help. Of course it wasn’t simple, but I wanted to ease the regrowing desolation I heard in her question.
“Will translating even help? We’d need a reversal spell,” Rachel mused.
“It looks like there are several spells on the page. Hopefully one is a reversal.”
“We still need to find the source,” she said. Even if we could reverse the curse, we had to ensure it wouldn’t happen again. I’d prefer to monitor the person; I suspected that Amelia’s coven would want a more permanent solution. De-escalating the situation needed to take a back seat to undoing the curse. After it was over, I may just be inclined to look for a permanent solution as well. Whoever it was, they wanted me dead. I needed to know why.
“I have to go. You work on finding the practitioner and I’ll work on getting the spells translated,” I told her. Before the call ended, I added, “If you have any connection to the Nightshade Coven, it might be a good idea to talk to them. Of the covens, they’re the most likely to be involved.”
Caught in traffic, I took a longer alternative route. The increased car time gave me an opportunity to contact anyone I thought could translate the book. It wasn’t surprising that Belham had connections with people who possibly could help. It would have been easier if he could do the translation himself.
