Page 40 of Salem’s Rise

“Can I see it?”

“I’ll retrieve it for you,” she says and disappears through a door behind the desk.

She returns several minutes later carrying a thick leather-bound volume with both hands. Dust clouds the dark brown cover. Faded gold lettering is stamped into the cracked leather: Blood and Bone: New England’s Hidden Histories of Magic, Mysteries, and the Occult.

I thank her profusely for her help as she checks the book out to me, then I take it to the first open table I can find and begin quickly flipping through pages. The text starts with a reiteration of what Professor Endicott already told me about Salem’s Fall’s history, starting with the witch trials in the 1600s and confirming the Veil, indeed, was founded as a membership organization for the wealthiest founding families in order to survive the hysteria and preserve long-term influence.

But then the material shifts to something… darker.

There are references to the Veil morphing into more of a cult, their ceremonies evolving over time to harness power through some kind of ritual “sacrifice” to gain land, influence, or good fortune. I can’t yet tell if the author means this is metaphorical sacrifice or a real murder. I hope the former, but I guess anything is possible.

One symbol appears again and again throughout the text, a mark the Veil leaves behind during its power ceremonies: a curved spiral with jagged lines radiating outward, intersecting with an inverted pentagram.

Beneath the illustration, a caption reads:

MARK OF THE VEIL.

My skin prickles. I’ve seen the symbol before in Josh’s game.

I’m not sure what to make of the book. It’s centuries old. For all I know, it’s less real history and more myth and folklore, its pages filled with legends passed off as fact. It’s also hard to understand the text all on its own as it repeatedly cross-cites other sources—older texts, private journals, ceremonial records. One title appears more than any other: The Book of Eternal Rites. It seems to be a much older collection of the Veil’s artifacts, kind of a manual, detailing how to perform the Veil’s rituals.

I close the book and stare out the window. I need to get to Blackthorn Manor and see if I can get hold of the other books. But how? The archive is off campus. Privately owned. Controlled by the Blackhollows.

Josh had Lucien’s permission because of the fellowship, but I have no good reason to ask for access. I suppose Silas could get me in, but I’d rather swallow broken glass than ask that asshole for a favor. He’d say no anyway, probably while implying that my curiosity is yet another character defect of mine.

But then I smile to myself because Silas isn’t the only founding-family son I know. The answer comes so easily, I almost laugh.

Rowan.

“I’m glad you called,” Rowan says to me an hour later as the quaint streets of Salem’s Fall disappear in a blur outside his Porsche’s windows. Autumn arrives even more boldly outside town. The trees burn with brilliant shades of yellow, orange, red, and gold, their leaves flashing overhead as we follow the narrow road deeper into the countryside.

“You sound surprised,” I say.

Rowan glances at me and smiles. “I was beginning to think you only sought me out when you needed directions.”

“To be fair, I do need your help finding Blackthorn Manor. I couldn’t find its location on any map.” I look pointedly around the leather interior. “And your transportation isn’t half bad either.”

“So I’m being used for my car now too?”

“Yep,” I say. “And I also need your access to powerful families’ private library collections.”

His smile widens. “How could I forget that part?”

I hold Blood and Bone tighter against my thigh, one hand resting over the cracked leather cover. Rowan agreed to help faster than I expected. There was no interrogation, no warning that I was in over my head. Just an easy I can get you in, as if sneaking me inside a private occult collection at Lucien Blackhollow’s home was no more complicated than booking a table at the best restaurant in town.

“You’re sure Lucien won’t think it’s strange that you’re showing up unannounced?”

“I’m not unannounced.” Rowan takes a curve without slowing. “Lucien occasionally advises me on my political theory work.”

“You’re a political science major?”

As soon as I ask, I realize it makes perfect sense. The Ashcroft family is Salem’s Fall’s political dynasty, and Rowan possesses the kind of effortless charm that makes people want to follow him.

“I am,” he says. “I’d love to be a senator someday. Maybe even president.” He grins. “Most people think politics is about leadership, but it’s really about persuasion. The trick is making people grateful for the choices you already made for them.”

I study him more closely, turning his words over in my head. Apparently, there’s more calculation beneath that easygoing exterior than I realized.

“And you really think this will work?” I ask.