Page 23 of Last Call at the Doghouse

Shield.

Crapola.

Duncan either sensed or saw her trepidation and reached over to take the book from her. He had no qualms about opening it. “Let’s get this over with.”

“So, you’re a rip-the-Band-Aid-off-quickly kind of guy.”

“While you agonize over how much it might hurt so you let the bandage stay in place until it’s dirty and wrinkled and falling off on its own,” he countered.

Not entirely true. Adhesive bandages were meant to be removed slowly, one potentially painful fraction of an inch at a time.

“After the fall of the protections…” he began.

“Stop!” Armi reached out and snapped the book cover closed over Duncan’s big hand. “Have you never seen a horror movie? You don’t read aloud from an old book, especially when you know it’s about woo-woo stuff.”

He smiled.

“You can’t tell me I’m wrong.”

He didn’t agree with her, she could see that much, but he did begin to read silently. Maybe he was humoring her. Maybe he’d taken her point to heart. Either way, she was able to relax. She leaned closer so she could read—silently—too. The new position put her in Duncan’s space, so close she could feel the body heat rolling off of him, but there was nothing to be done about it. She wasn’t waiting for him to finish before she had a look.

It was distracting to be so close to him, especially on the heels of the bird excitement. If she was younger, more foolish, more naive, she might figure a quick roll in the hay would ease the tensions. Maybe it would, but she wasn’t young, naive, or foolish. Still, it had to be an option.

That damn dream had her body in an uproar. If only it would fade, as other dreams always did. Well, almost always…

It might be simpler than she imagined. He was hot; she’d been without a man for a long while now. Sure, the dream hadn’t helped matters any, but even without it she might be tempted. She could not give into this temptation, so she returned her full attention to the book.

The first chapter was pretty basic. There was a bit of basic Mystic Springs history, followed by what had turned out to be an accurate prophecy. Magic escapes into the world like a wave, touching some, leaving others ignorant for a time. With the wave comes an awakening of dark magic, and in the ways of universal balance, warriors are also awakened to combat the darkness, to protect the innocent.

If Armi knew anything, it was that she was not a warrior. Shields, the book called these fighters. At least, she tried to tell herself that. She was an ordinary middle aged, divorced woman. Right?

With eyes that apparently occasionally turned to fire and an ability to grab flying darts out of the air. So far she hadn’t found any advantages to those oddities.

“I’m not the only one,” she said. The first chapter spoke of shields, plural. It spoke of an army. There was no army of one; it would be a collective. Maybe she could ignore…

“No,” Duncan said, “but you might be the first to awaken. If that’s the case, others will be drawn to you the same way you were drawn to this place.”

“How the hell am I supposed to know when someone shows up at my door if they’re a shield or a monster in hiding? I used to think my instincts were good, but lately I’m not so sure.” Andrew came to mind…

They reached a couple of pages that were stuck together. In the library they’d seemed to be held fast, but as she reached out and touched one of the pages, whatever was holding them together gave and the paper that had seemed so fragile earlier in the day seemed supple; new, even. The pages parted easily.

The words that were revealed were nonsense. Gibberish. They couldn’t even be called words! The letters were from some language she didn’t recognize, looking more like tiny drawings than any written words she’d ever seen. A quick thumbing through the book resulted in more of the same.

Was this the language Aunt Helen and her friends had uttered in order to reveal the secret library? There was only one way to find out, and she did not want to go back to Mystic Springs. Did what she wanted matter anymore?

Armi closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was tired. She was seeing things.

None of this could be real. They’d gone to so much trouble to get this book, and other than a bit of prophecy—which they already knew from Duncan’s dad—nothing was decipherable.

Duncan took the book from her hands, gently, almost reluctantly. “I’m guessing you don’t have any experience in code breaking,” he said as he set the book on the end table.

“Is that what this is? A code?”

“As far as I can tell. What else could it be?”

A foreign language. An unknown language. Words hidden by a spell. Light magic. Dark magic… “Who knows?”

He put his arm around her in a protective and familiar way. She might’ve tossed that arm off and moved away, but she was too tired. Besides, having him close felt good. She liked it. She needed to know she wasn’t alone in this. After a long moment of wallowing in the comfort of that touch she was tempted to pull him closer, but she didn’t give in to that temptation, either.