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Reading her name on the cover page is simultaneously super hot and weirdly upsetting. I read the opening sentences, which sound suitably fancy and smart – and way above my paygrade. Frustrated, I shove the book back into its place on the bottom of the shelf. I don’t understand this, I’m just a stupid vampire. My life revolves around hurting people to survive, not ‘Spellwork and Ritual’. I don’t understandher.How did I trick myself into thinking we had a connection? Arguably, there’s a huge part of her life I haven’t even really thought about.
Worse, there are other witches out there, like Emelie.Superfans.It makes me strangely angry at them for merely existing.I shake my head and get up.You’re being psychotic, Deni.
Before I get back downstairs, my eyes fall on another volume, bound in black leather and placedbehindthe others. I’d not have noticed it if I hadn’t taken out The Complete Grimoire first. I carefully pry it out from behind the others.
“The Forgotten Art of Blood Magic” has no author marked on the cover.
I open it to the first page of the introduction. “In witchcraft, we channel our power through many mediums, both organic and inorganic, though it can be said that the organic provides a better funnel for spiritual power. And while there is a point to be made for the safety and stability provided by inorganic materials, I have yet to meet a witch that, in a bind, would prefer to work with gold or copper rather than myrrh or sage.
“It seems, however, that despite all our loyal devotion to the mediums provided by mother earth, we have forgotten – or deliberately omitted – the most reliable, powerful, and versatile organic medium of all: blood.
“While I go into detail about whether the disappearance of blood magic from our records should be considered forgetting – or rather, as I believe, erasure – in Chapter Seventeen, I want to use this introduction to caution the reader to approach the subject with an open mind. Because of the stigma that witchcraft has faced in recent centuries, it might be tempting to shy away from discussions about topics so archaic as ritual sacrifice, bloodletting, or augury. I believe, however, that this kind of caution is harmful rather than helpful.
“Casting Shadowsargued that if we want our craft to survive in the modern world, we need to be able to evolve and adapt. This includes, in my opinion, a duty to not deprive ourselves of any of the tools we have at hand, no matter how apparently base they might seem. To discard any potentially powerful vessel for our will at the mere assumption that it might face scrutiny – scrutiny, no less, from a society that already regards our craft as corrupt – is nothing short of self-defeating.
“Blood magic, in the hands of a skillful practitioner, will give her unprecedented power over her subject, an unparalleled source of energy, and a reliable vessel for her craft–”
I look up at the sound of footsteps behind me.
“Sorry!” Emelie looks embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to snoop but this was ringing and I thought it might be important.”
She holds out a phone – Mav’s phone – with an outstretched arm. It’s stopped ringing now and instead displays a new notification on the screen:One missed call from Dante.Dante is followed by a bat emoji. The name rings a bell but I can’t place it.
“Oh,” I say, reaching for it. “Thanks.”
Before I can say anything else, Emelie runs her fingers over the leatherbound cover of the book I’m holding. “Is that the banned one?The Forgotten Art of Blood Magic?”
“Uh… yeah. I thought you might want to see it,” I lie.
She takes the book from my hands with a look of complete and utter awe. “That’s so cool. You can’t get this anywhere! Not legally, anyway.”
I read the title imprinted into the leather, then read it again. Something about this feels off.
“You know, I actually do need to make a phone call,” I say, holding up the phone she just handed me. “Why don’t you have a look through this and I’ll be right back to set up one of the rooms for you?”
Her voice is quiet. “Oh, I’m fine on the lounge, really.”
“Nonsense,” I wave my hand at her, already on my way to the stairs.
I dial while taking two steps at a time. I don’t care who she’s in a meeting with – I need to know.
***
“Deni?” Celeste’s voice is full of concern, almost fear. “Is everything alright?”
“No. I mean, yes. I have a question.”
“Kitten, I’m kind of in the middle of something–”
Having stepped out into the garden under the light of the full moon, I take a deep breath of fresh air. It’s uncharacteristically warm for this time of the year, a sign that we’re headed for spring. “This is important. A friend of mine is missing and I’ve been trying to reach him–”
“Deni–”
“Just listen! He works for Charon’s Veil, or at least he does sometimes. And I found his phone in your office.”
“What were you doing in my office?”
Ugh! I plop myself down on a rusty garden chair. “Actually, I was trying to be nice and clean up the absolute mess you made, and I happened to call him and hear his phone ringing.”
