Page 45 of Of Magic and Murder

Oh.

Oh.

“Oh,” I breathe out. “I think I know why it keeps hurting me. It’s trying to get my attention.”

Riordan raises his eyebrows. “It’s a book.”

No. It’s a book in a library that used to be run by a witch, and I’m the idiot who cast a spell to help me find a book that would interest me—and, weeks after I sent all of them flying from their shelves, I think I finally did.

“Can I see it?”

“I don’t want it to bite you or zap you again.”

“It won’t.”

At least, I think it won’t. Now that I’ve figured out what it’s trying to tell me, that magic should be satisfied. Then again, it’s my magic, so you never know how it’ll backfire, but I want to believe I already got that out of the way when I conjured a literary tornado.

Riordan lifts the book to his face, glowering at the cover. “Behave yourself. If you cause Penelope any more pain, I will use your pages for toilet paper and make a hat for Gus out of your leather cover.”

Then, as I blink over at him, stunned by the casual way the Beta just threatened the book, he hands it to me.

Whether it was the magic being spent or the poor thing really didn’t want to be used for toilet paper, I don’t know, but there’s only a gentle buzz against my fingers when I accept it from him.

I open the cover. There, written in careful script, is a name I recognize:

Garnet Brooks

My stomach gives a strange little flip.

“It’s Garnet’s journal.” I start leafing through the pages. “That’s so weird.”

“Because she wrote in a journal? After going through Faith’s notebook, I thought that was just something witches do.”

He’s not wrong. “No. We do. Witches are very big on keeping written notes. It’s why so many covens have their own archives. It helps keep track of spells and potions and what herbs do… I tried to talk Serena into computerizing some of what’s in the national coven’s archives, but magic and tech… they don’t mix. Writing it down is safer.”

Riordan cocks his head. “Do you have a journal?”

Do I have a journal? “There’s a box under my bed back at the apartment. I have three different journals, plus a diary.”

His lips split into a grin. “You write in your diary about me?”

My cheeks are instantly on fire. “No.”

He laughs. “Liar.”

One of these days I’m going to remember that alpha wolf shifters can sense a lie as easily as I can magic.

Like now. This book is saturated in it.

“Anyway,” I say, changing the subject, “it’s not weird that Garnet has a journal. What’s weird is that she didn’t grab it when she left for that other coven. I mean, she probably had a few, but this one is pretty full.”

“Maybe she left it behind in the library and she forgot,” suggests Riordan. “Just like I’m hoping you might forget your diary one day⁠—”

I give him a look. “Don’t touch my diary.”

He holds up his hands. “Oh, my sweet witch. You know I won’t. But if you let me read it…”

“I won’t.”