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Chapter Fifteen
Rowan
I recoil, and Ven puts her arm around me. “Was it an accident?” I ask the sheriff.
“Doesn’t appear that way,” he says with a frown.
“So, another murder.” I can’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. My heart freezes in my chest.
“Not at all the same as your aunt, Rowan,” he says quickly. “About twenty miles from here. As far as we can tell, totally unrelated.”
Ven and I stand there, speechless.
“I’d best be on my way, ladies.” He gestures to his men and they all pile into their car and leave.
“I can’t believe this,” I say, staring after them. “Another murder?”
“Maria and the other Elders will be here any minute now,” Ven says. “They’re going to add protective wards to the whole property. No one with ill intentions will be able to get even close to the house.” She squeezes my hand reassuringly. “I’ll go make breakfast. You go work on your magic.”
Even as frazzled as my brain feels, I can’t argue with the need to practice my magic. I’m not just going to sit here in the house the rest of my life, and on the off chance that something is able to break through the wards, I need to be ready. The idea of confronting the horned beast again terrifies me, but being defenseless is even scarier. I’ve never let fear get in my way before, and I’m not going to start now.
I head back to the library. It soothes me more than any other room in the house. Perhaps because I can feel Sybil’s presence the strongest there. I walk over and sit by the orchids for several minutes, taking calming breaths and trying to get myself to a place of focus. My eyes close and I think of my aunt. Of this life I’d never known about, because I’d chosen another path. Why hadn’t she ever shared it with me?
An image of Sybil fills my mind, along with the scent of magnolia, which she always wore. “Sometimes we have to experience what’s wrong in order to discover what’s right,” her voice says in my head, clear as can be. My eyes fly open. And then I hear a strange sound behind me, like the ruffling of paper.
I turn and see that Sybil’s grimoire is open, the pages fluttering back and forth in an invisible wind. My breath catches in my chest, and I approach it slowly. As if drawn by a magnet, my right hand moves forward over the pages. A glow begins to emit from the book, blinding in its intensity. The pages whir faster and faster, and then abruptly the book slams shut.
My heart thumps in my chest. Has the grimoire rejected me?
But then it glows again, around the edges and from in between the pages. There’s a flash, and the jewel on the cover changes from black obsidian to a pale jade, the same color as my eyes. The book flies open again, but this time the pages don’t move. They’re open to a particular spot, and my eyes move across the pages, reading the words printed there in curly calligraphic text.
Spell of Protection
Isis, Hecate, Freya
Goddesses, hear my call
Encircle me in light
Protect me from harm
Tears spring to my eyes. The grimoire hadn’t rejected me—it’s protecting me. Ven had said that grimoires only work for one witch, but clearly Sybil and her grimoire have chosen me.
I think back on her words in my head. For whatever reason, I hadn’t been ready for magic in my life before. And I had to live through a decade with my ex to realize that I deserve better. For the last year I’d been telling myself all those years were a waste, when really it was like earning a college degree—I’d learned a lot, and now it was time to move on to a higher level. I’m not starting over, I’m building on everything that came before this moment.
A lightness grows in my chest, a feeling of freedom I haven’t felt in a very long time. Despite all the crazy shit that’s happened, a smile forms on my lips.
Ven calls that breakfast is ready, and shortly after we finish eating, a dozen witches arrive at the manor. I spend the next few hours following them as they set the wards along the property line, soaking in both the feel of their magic and the techniques they use to summon it. After they leave, Ven heads upstairs to take a nap, but I’m buzzing with energy. I couldn’t sleep even if I tried.
I head out into the yard, feeling a sense of security I haven’t since I saw the horned beast in the woods the day before. Feeling the power of a dozen Elder witches has a way of bolstering one’s confidence. They’d set the wards from the head of the driveway all the way back to the north side of the property, about a quarter mile past the house, an area about five acres altogether.
The garden is where I end up. It’s not a neat and tidy garden, it’s a witch’s garden through and through. Overflowing beds of herbs and flowers, cascades of aromatic vines hanging from trellises. There’s a statue of a goddess in the center, Hecate perhaps, rising up from a small stone pool of water. I stand near the center, relishing the smell of the different growing things and the warmth of the late afternoon sunshine on my skin. My eyes close. Not far off, I can hear the chatter of birds.
I realize abruptly that I can feel the plants growing. Sense their leaves stretching toward the sun, their roots pushing down into the earth. Taste the sun hitting them. Colored auras glow around each one. I can see them as clearly as if my eyes were open. It’s magic—each plant has its own magic.
Wonder fills me, and with it, my own magic unfurls inside my chest. It feels warm and effervescent, like champagne and sunbeams mixed. My eyes open and I can see it, too. A soft golden glow coming off my skin, floating up into the air around me. The flowering vine closest to me shivers and stretches toward me, and several new blossoms open along the length of it.
I walk slowly around the garden, and everywhere I move, flowers bloom, and plants push higher into the sky. A drunken feeling of joy spreads through me, and I laugh and spin in a circle. I feel weightless. Powerful. As if I could spring from the earth and fly.
