by Arden, Alys
When my words didn’t come out immediately, she said, “I’m sorry for snapping at you. I just know the Daures are pretty private.”
“Protégez la,” I said, or tried to say.
The words drew a smile from her. “What? Was that French?”
“What the girl said back there.”
“What girl?”
“Back at t-the . . .”
Her brow dipped in concern. She didn’t see her, I realized. Did any of them?
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said, not wanting to alarm her with the message. “Let’s go in. It’s cold.”
She nodded, though she definitely didn’t look convinced.
We crossed the threshold, and the door closed behind us. The deadbolt clicked into place, but I turned back to test the knob anyway.
Adele crossed her arms and smiled. “Don’t trust my magic enough to lock a door?”
“What? No, I just want to make sure you’re safe.”
“You’re starting to sound like Mac.”
“You didn’t find a dead girl in a pool today.”
She frowned, which wasn’t my intention.
“Come on.” I draped my arm over her shoulder and walked her toward the blue room.
Protégez la?
CHAPTER 26
Blue Room, Blue Book
I knew I’d brewed the pot of chamomile tea strong, but judging by the quickness with which everyone relaxed, I assumed Désirée had spiked it with her enchanted herbs. Isaac lay across the sofa, his head in my lap and my arm awkwardly pulled across his chest. Every time I tried to reclaim it, he pulled my hand back, which was the only way we knew that he was still awake.
Dee was sitting on the floor on the opposite side of the coffee table, legs stretched out, one ankle crossed over the other, and Annabelle was next to her, explaining the three levels of witch magic: Elemental, Spektral, and Astral.
Isaac’s fingertips slowly stroked my arm, putting me in a meditative state. I could still hear their voices in the background, but my mind drifted thinking about Spektral powers and these marks and wondering when mine would appear. The only thing out of the ordinary in my life, currently, was Nicco appearing in my dreams. Dreams that were so vivid and detailed they felt more like memories. Nicco’s memories. Nicco’s dreams.
Nicco.
Callis wants to kill Nicco.
How am I going to explain to Isaac and Dee why we can’t let that happen—without telling them about Brigitte?
“Jesus, Annabelle,” Désirée said with disbelief and a spring of annoyance. “Who gave you the witch 101? Have you been having secret sessions with Ritha?”
“No, but if I’d realized studying under your grandmother was an option, I’d have started a long time ago.”
I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealously that Annabelle and Isaac were ahead of the magical class with their Maleficiums. Isaac was older, but with Annabelle it was just annoying.
“You’re not going to tell me Arlo and Valentine are Aethers too?” Dee asked. “Actually that would make total sense. Everything your dad touches turns to gold.”
“No. Neither. My mother is a master of many things, but they all involve old money, martini shakers, or black Amexes. Not magic.”
“Wait,” I said, “our Aether witch’s mother is named Valentine?”
Isaac’s chest shook with laughter under my palm.
Dee’s eyebrow raised at Annabelle. “So?”
“So, what?”
“So how the hell do you know all of this stuff?”
It did seem like she was evading the question.
“Oh.” Annabelle began tidying up our usual smattering of things on the table. “We had one of those Christmases when an estranged relative pops up looking for money. A great-aunt in Nashville I didn’t know existed. She blew into town just before Christmas and was gone by New Year’s, but she taught me a few things. I guess it was just meant to be, because I had my first bout of invisibility while she was visiting, and then this thing appeared on my arm. She told me magic can be triggered by being around other witches.”
Isaac squeezed my hand.
A rattling noise drew everyone’s attention underneath the coffee table—to the porcelain bowl sitting on top of Désirée’s grimoire. It still held a bunch of random objects left over from when we did the location spells.
The bowl rattled as Dee pulled it out. She glanced at me.
I shrugged. It’s not me. I shook Isaac, and we both sat straight, watching the contents of the bowl vibrate as Dee fished around for the culprit. She pulled out the heart-shaped locket that Isaac had found on our first night here.
She held it in the air, and the locket swung once, twice, and a third time like a pendulum . . . toward Annabelle.
Isaac and Dee both looked to me permissively, which felt strange. “Who are we to deny Cosette her heir?” I said, and Désirée handed the necklace to Annabelle.
“I think it’s more Adele’s style than mine. Who’s Cosette?” she asked, almost giddy. Not an emotion I’d ever seen from her.
“And then we were four,” I said, my fingertips tingling.
I wasn’t ready to go all the way by binding her into the coven yet, but I lit a fire under Désirée’s cauldron, brewed some more tea, and we told her how all of our ancestors had been in a coven together, and Dee made Annabelle a gris-gris in a little red sack that matched ours.
We told Annabelle everything we knew about Cosette, Lisette, and Minette—except, of course, the part about two of her great-something-aunts being killed by Gabriel Medici, and that Lisette had joined the ranks of the undead, and now eternally slumbered in our school’s attic. And because the night went so well, I even pulled out the necklace she’d given me and slipped it back around my neck. My collection was starting to feel complete: the feather from Isaac, gris-gris from Dee, the heart from Annabelle, the medallion from Adeline, and the sun from my dad.
“Is that your grimoire?” she asked me, nodding to my bag. Adeline’s diary was partially sticking out of the top.
“I wish. I don’t have one.”
“Me neither.”
My gaze dropped to the locket around her neck, and something occurred to me. I was surprised I’d never asked him before: “Isaac, where did you first find your grimoire?”
“In my great-grandparents’ basement.”
“Just, like, randomly?”
“I was cleaning out their house for my grandpop after his mom passed. Sorting everything into piles: trash, Goodwill, and to-keep. These two blackbirds were perched outside the basement window. When I was finishing up, I opened it to get some air, and the birds zipped in and flew around the room, knocking over all of my stacks of clothes and books, and about a million VHS tapes—completely wreaking havoc. They finally landed on top of a large leather-bound book, and lo and behold, it was this one. My grandpop didn’t know what it was and said I could keep it.”
“That’s kind of cute,” Désirée said. “The two little blackbird familiars.”
He turned to me. “Why?”
“I was just thinking . . . When I found Adeline’s necklace and diary, they were so well hidden no one without my kind of magic would ever have found them. Birds helped you find your Air grimoire. What if Cosette’s most precious items are also hidden using her kind of magic?”
Désirée sat up and crossed her feet beneath her legs. “Aethers’ base element is Spirit. They can control things with souls, like people.”
“So where would Cosette hide her things?” I asked.
“Some Aethers have other illusionary powers like glamouring,” said Annabelle.
“Glamouring?” I asked.
“The ability to change one’s appearance, like hair color or even cosmetic changes, like a new nose. Really strong Aethers can even completely alter their physical appearance.”
“Come on,” I said, standing. “There’s got to be something in this house. A trapdoor. A secret chamber. A
magical hidey-hole.”
“Well, let’s take a proper tour,” said Désirée, slipping her grimoire into her bag. “But this time we stick together. Maybe our collective magic will produce something we’ve missed?”
She grabbed a few candles and a stick of sage. Then she paused and pulled a large jar from underneath the table and handed it to Isaac. “You take the salt. You never know . . .”
We explored the rooms on the second floor, knocking on walls and listening for hollow caverns, pulling books from shelves and pressing the statues carved into the fireplace mantels looking for secret levers or switches that would reveal hidden drawers or revolving walls. We searched hundreds of mundane hiding places, from pillowcases to cigar boxes to the bottoms of vases, but nothing tingled or lit up a sixth sense. Not even for Annabelle.
We moved up the stairs to the third floor, Isaac leading the way with his weapon-like flashlight, and me trailing the group with a swarm of tiny flames.
“Last floor,” I said when we reached the top.
Frustration emitted from Annabelle in waves.
“There’s always the attic,” Désirée said. “We know you have a thing for attics, Adele.”
She and Isaac both snickered.
“What?” Annabelle asked.
‘Nothing,” I said, shooting Dee a death glare.
Isaac took us straight down one of the halls to a closed door. “The forest entrance,” he said, shining his light on the wooden door’s carving.
“Wow,” I said. “It’s enchanting.”
“Let’s hope it’s enchanted,” said Dee.
With a quick mental flick, I pushed the handle down, and the door opened.
Immediately upon entry, I noticed something different. There was an electrical charge in the air, like on the first day of autumn.
“Do you feel that?” Désirée asked, taking slow steps around the room.
“Yes,” we replied simultaneously.
We all took slow steps around the enormous empty room. As we circled, Isaac opened all the windows, letting the moonlight in.
Our paths led us back to the center. To each other.
“I want to try something,” Désirée said, pulling out her grimoire. She set it on the floor and took the jar of salt from Isaac. “Cup your hands,” she said to Annabelle.
Désirée poured the salt into her hands until they were overflowing, and then set the jar down and smoothed her hair. “Isaac, when I tell you to, kick up the air.”
He nodded, and Dee gestured for the three of us to join hands, surrounding Annabelle in the middle with the salt. She glanced down at the page and then started an incantation:
From the world, you’ve stayed hidden,
Four witches are we with good intention,
With the heir who can unblind,
Slip off the veil for us to find.
She repeated the lines, and we joined in.
Whatever that electrical feeling in the room was, it came tenfold. First my toes and then my fingers tingled as the magic pummeled through the room.
Annabelle’s hands began to tremble so hard some of the salt spilled to the floor. A light glowed from her palms, giving the crystals a silver, neon-like effect. “Hurry, Dee!” Her voice bubbled with excitement.
Désirée yelled the last line of the chant. “Now, Isaac. Now!”
He jerked his hand, and a puff of air shot the salt up and exploded it outward over our heads. We shielded our faces as the tiny crystal grains rained down, showering the entire room.
Then there was silence, like some magical bubble had burst.
“Holy shit,” I whispered.
The air glittered with suspended salt particles in sweeping lines and whorls. Then I realized: the salt wasn’t floating. It was resting on invisible objects, now revealed.
A million crystalline specks outlined an extravagant four-poster bed with a canopy and a mound of pillows. Around the room were a pair of loungers, a standing mirror, a room divider strewn with dresses, an open wardrobe filled with hats, and another with shoes, and a vanity covered with antique tins, jars, and perfume bottles. A large fireplace had become visible against the far wall.
“And there it is, the madam’s bedroom,” Désirée said. “All it took was three bound descendants, an Aether, a jar of salt, and a revealing spell.”
“Talk about secret service,” I said.
Isaac smiled at my cheesy joke, and I teetered around, mesmerized by the sparkling outline of the hidden room.
Annabelle walked to the window, where moonlight bathed a salt-outlined piano. She pressed a key on the far-right end. It dinged. “This is so cool.”
“Cosette Monvoisin must have been one powerful witch,” said Dee.
Annabelle looked at us. “Hell yeah, she was.”
“It’s so beautiful,” Isaac said.
And he was right. Every object revealed by the salt gleamed like a constellation in a moonlit galaxy. “And it’s all been here the whole time. Hidden from plain sight by magic.” Cold ripped up my spine in a violent shiver.
“Is it just me,” Dee asked, “or did the temperature just drop?”
“Not. Just. You,” I answered.
In the light of my fire orbs, I could see Isaac’s breath plume.
His head whipped to the right.
“Isaac?”
He flung himself around again, brushing at his neck.
I tugged his arm. “Are you okay?”
He nodded, but the crease in his brow told me otherwise. The cold swept between us and around us and then he took off, as if following someone.
“Isaac?” He stalked straight to the salt-outlined fireplace. I followed a couple steps behind. “Are you okay?” I touched his back as he stared into the unlit hearth.
“Stand back,” he said.
A breeze picked up around us, and ash began to drift from the cold hearth.
“Do you see something?” I asked.
He knelt down, pushing air into the hearth and then pulling it back out. Chunks of burnt wood and coal tumbled out onto the floor with it—it was as if he was digging deeper into the house with his Air.
I knelt beside him, not wanting to be near the flying debris, but too worried to leave his side.
The look on his face was stern, and his eyes kept slipping shut, as if he was concentrating.
Désirée and Annabelle ran up behind us, egging him on. Centuries of soot and decaying brick billowed out from the fireplace. I began to cough; Isaac pulled me under his arm. With his free hand, he yanked a gust of clean air from the back of the room and whipped it around the four of us, the vortex shielding us from the debris ripping out of the fireplace. I closed my eyes, trying not to cough. He pulled me tighter into his chest, and we all huddled together. It felt like the wall was crumbling before us.
Then the energy tapered, and Isaac’s grip loosened. The vortex dissipated around us, and we all looked up. Our side of the room was covered in soot, save the clean circle surrounding us.
The hidden fireplace was completely cleaned out and seemed so much bigger now that it was empty.
“What the hell was that about?” Annabelle asked.
Isaac shone his flashlight into the hearth, and the rest of us drew close around him to peer in. Four of the bricks at the back were trembling, grinding out of their mortar.
Désirée extended her hand, and the mortar crumbled away like sand. Two bricks gently flew out and into her hands, the other two into Isaac’s.
We all looked back to Annabelle.
“You don’t think I’m going in there, do you?” she said.
Isaac rolled his eyes, set the flashlight down, and crawled into the fireplace.
I stayed close, shining the light over his shoulder. He looked back at me with trepidation before stretching his arm into the opening between the bricks. He patted around blindly.
“Nothing,” he said, looking back to us. “It’s empty.”
“There has to be something!” Annabelle yelpe
d.
“Let me see,” I said, pulling him out of the way.
We switched places and I crawled into the fireplace. Warmth emitted from my body as the space got smaller around me. Breathe, Adele, you’re not trapped. I inserted my hand into the hole and stretched my arm, feeling around, trying not to think about cockroaches and spiders crawling up my fingers in retaliation for disturbing their home. It’s just an empty compartment with smooth, cool walls. No. No it’s not. “It’s metal! A metal box!”
“So?” Désirée said.
“Don’t you think that’s a little strange?”
I shut my eyes to focus on the metal. I imagined it parting ways, just like Adeline’s box in our attic. My hand slipped down farther, and Isaac gripped my calf as if he were worried I might get sucked into another dimension.
I slapped around the metal cavern, gasping as my fingertips touched the edge of something.
“What?” asked Isaac, his voice sounding distant.
I inched a teeny bit farther in, scraping my shoulders on the brick. Jesus, how tiny was Cosette?
“I think I have something!” I grabbed the thick tome and launched myself out, straight into Isaac’s chest, knocking him over.
Breathing heavily with excitement, I pulled myself up. “Sorry! I’m always so scared those metal compartments are going to chop off my hand.” My right arm was covered in soot all the way to my neck.
All six of their eyes were glued to the book clutched tightly against my chest.
“Oh. My. Goddess,” Désirée said. “Is that really . . . ?”
“Cosette Monvoisin’s grimoire,” I answered, blowing ash from the hair that hung in my face.
The fireball at my shoulder broke into two, and then into four, and kept dividing until tiny little lights were floating all around Annabelle’s head like a halo.
“La femme d’or,” I said, smearing away more dust from the cover. I handed it to her. “The Golden Woman.”
CHAPTER 27
Murder by Proxy
Isaac and I practically had to give ourselves sink baths to wash off our soot-covered limbs and faces. We probably snuck in too many kisses in the process, because by the time we walked back into the blue room, Dee and Annabelle were visibly annoyed. Whatever. We were the ones who’d done all the dirty work.