“Let’s find the spell and get out of here. My pet is probably waiting for me.”
“Pet?” A sly smile curled his lips, the ambient light casting shadows over his face and highlighting the striking structures of his face. “When did you get a pet?”
“It’s the wolf. He keeps finding me. So, I guess I have a pet. Your call scared him away.”
Cirrian’s head canted while he studied me. The sound of Cirrian’s voice had caused my new sort-of-a-pet to scuttle away. I followed him to the closest stand that held a dark-leather book. Closer inspection revealed that the cover wasn’t leather at all, but scales, overlapping and iridescent, shifting subtly as if sentient.The house of horrors never ceases.Cirrian fingered through the pages, scanning them with familiarity.
“So you’re not always an ‘amused observer’ but in fact an interloper,” I pointed out when he stopped on a page I assumed he needed.
Amusement sparked in his eyes. “Diehle has always amused me, as have his acquisitions. Of the demons I’ve encountered, his ability to obtain the most obscure artifacts, spellbooks, and objects is impressive. I interjected myself into his life more often than usual with a purpose. Hopefully it pays off.”
Slowly reading over the spell, he looked around at the glass jars. I was mistaken about what they held. One had pieces of silver; I was correct about the other containing tannin. The third held liquid. Moments later, I was holding the pieces of silver wrapped in sigil-marked linen. My hand was illuminated and enveloped by chilly magic dancing around it. Nothing nearly as painful as what I endured upstairs.
And still there was nothing. Goddess Annessa’s death had broken Cirrian’s heart, but it also left me with no more options. The person who had locked our magic was no longer available to be persuaded to release it.
Cirrian’s disappointment was kept from his face, but I could see it in his air of apathy.
“This one?” I asked, stopping near the second book. It was plainer than the first and covered in silver filigree.
“There’s nothing in that one that can help. Just a demon’s failed attempts to tear open the veil between the realms, create dhampirs with magic, and magic that can be used against werewolves in their animal form. Diehle was interesting to watch. His ambitions and his failures give me insight into how to protect Umbryth.”
While he migrated to the third pedestal, I stayed planted at the second one, determining how I’d destroy the book. Quickly deciding on keeping it simple, I took hold of the pages to shred each before feeding them to the fire. Cirrian grabbed my hand.
“You should learn the art of being an observer,” he advised.
“Leaving this here doesn’t make me an ‘observer,’ it makes me complicit in the perpetration of unchecked powerful magic, chaos, and the harm of others.”
“Others’ failures can be your education and tools for defense. I’ll leave and other demons will either dismiss the failures and get rid of it. Or their knowledge of it. And I will inject myself into their life to ensure they fail at ever destroying the veils that separate the realms.”
“Or you destroy the playbook and don’t give them any ideas.” I had partially ripped a page when he pulled the book from my hand, protecting it.
“Kara.” The long, exasperated sigh that accompanied my name was tinged with frustration at the spell’s failure and me not buying in to his lessons. “Leave it. I’m not speaking from cruelty or indifference but from centuries of experience. Please, leave it be.”
“I don’t see your vision,” I admitted.
“But I see your defiance. I won’t let you destroy it. Okay?”
Whatever he saw in my face didn’t invoke enough confidence for him to return the book to its original location. Keeping hold of it, he looked over the outside of the third book. The thin cover was made of bark. Cirrian ran his fingers over the uneven texture, while illuminated vines crawled through the knots of it. The scent of soil after rain wafted from the book. My fingers followed Cirrian’s, taking in the warmth of the book. Bound with twine, there seemed to be an intent and pattern to the weave.
“What awful spells are in you?” Cirrian whispered. The only consistent thing in this house of dread was Diehle’s fiendish motif.
He opened the book to blank pages, each one just a sheet of papyrus. Could an empty page taunt? It felt that way. Cirrian scoffed, shaking his head at the empty pages.
“Diehle was a horrid creature,” I said. From what little I knew of him, this play was consistent with his personality. A spell that withheld the most valuable information from anyone who’d stumble upon his death. It could have been a retaliatory measure. In the event of his death, his most valuable spellbooks would be erased.
Frowning, I touched the book, and the pages slowly filled with curls, symbols, and loops.
“What does this mean?” I asked Cirrian. The symbols meant nothing to me, and the language didn’t resemble anything I’d seen. Abandoning his protection of the second book, Cirrian quickly returned it to its original location. Returning to me, he lifted the third book. The moment I no longer had contact with it, the book’s spells disappeared. He placed the book on the stand and laced his fingers through mine, then brought my hand to his lips. His warm lips brushed against me, but there was an obvious lack of movement.
“Are you performing a spell?”
“No, kissing your hand,” he emoted in a tone absent of any emotion although the heat in his eyes promised more.
“Why do you keep playing with me?” I asked when his lips parted and pressed another tantalizing kiss along my hand. A shiver ran through me and thoughts of those kisses moving further occupied my mind.
His voice dropped low. “Not playing, I’m tasting you.” His eyes darkened, and his lips curled into a suggestive smile. Slowly he pointed his other hand to the book. Unlacing my fingers from his, I touched the book, smiling hugely as all the symbols and words reappeared. It was the closest to performing magic I’d experienced, and it was exhilarating. My hand flattened against the paper, the heat of the words offering comfort and optimism that had been chipped away to nothing.
“Why are you here?” The demanding female’s voice boomed with power. The ceiling reverberated above us as someone or something crashed overhead.
