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“To prevent a full war,” I said the last bit at the same time as him.
He nodded. “Exactly—”
“No, you said this already,” I whispered, glancing down at the grimoire again. Was this it?
The weapon Uncle Axel had wanted me to get all this time?
It couldn’t be, but then, at the same time, it was the only thing that made sense. And if that were the case, this wasn’t a weapon against just vampires—it was one against the world.
He couldn’t have known. If he saw what it did, he’d never want it to see the light of day or the moonlight, for that matter. He’d destroy it. He didn’t know how evil it was.
If I am evil, you are evil.
I dropped the book, my eyes wide as I heard the voice from it.
“Druella, what is the matter? Whose grimoire is this?”
“I-I don’t know, but I think it’s talking to me?” I said and looked down at the leather-worn pages carefully.
Theseus moved to touch it, but it burned his fingers, and he pulled back.
“It both reeks and stings of ancient magics.” He growled at it, rubbing his fingers together.
Carefully, I picked it back up. “H-hello?”
Hello, the silvery voice said back, and I looked to Theseus, but he didn’t seem to hear it.
“Where did this come from? It was not in your hand when you came toward me,” he questioned.
“I-I don’t know,” I whispered, dusting it off carefully. Magic filled the worn leather on the front, and I felt it like braille on my fingers.
Theseus stepped closer again. However, his head snapped, looking to the left of him. I could feel it, too. My coven was coming this way.
“We will speak tonight,” was all he said before he was gone—well, not gone completely, just much farther away, leaving me and the book.
I didn’t know what to do.
I didn’t understand what was happening.
The only thing that was clear to me was that the book in my hands was powerful and very dangerous, beyond anything I had ever seen or beyond anything I had ever heard of.
“Druella?”
Looking up from it, I turned to see my uncle staring at me, his mouth agape, his eyes so wide that I could almost see myself in them—no, he wasn’t staring at me. He was staring at the book.
“You’ve done it.” He gasped. Slowly, a smile spread across his face. “Druella, you’ve done it!”
“Uncle, this thing…it’s dangerous. You should have seen what it did.”
“What did it do? What did it show you? Give it here. Let me see!” he demanded, anxiously taking a step forward toward me. But I took a step back, hugging it to me. “Druella, what are you doing? Come here.”
He was my uncle, my first teacher, everything I learned about magic I learned from him. If I didn’t understand something, I went to him. So, naturally, I should have done as he ordered, and he’d explain. But the figure beside him, the little ghost, with a freckled face and brown pigtails staring back at me, shook her head no.
“Magdalena?” I whispered, tears filling in my eyes as I saw her again, and she nodded.
“We came too late, Druella.” Uncle Axel frowned, stepping to me again. “I know you are in pain. It’s that we could not save her, but now, with that book, we will be able to save everyone. Everything changes now. Summoning it could not have been easy alone. Are you all right? Let me see it.”
Once again, Magdalena’s ghost shook her head at me, and so I stepped back again. Something was wrong here.
