The Unlocked Legacy

by Lucy True

  She wanted to add that maybe Lily wasn’t that bad, that maybe she cared more about Burgundy then she’d shown anyone at the town meeting. But now it was Mr. Knight who scoffed, shaking his head.

  “Don’t mistake discretion for maternal affection. It’s not you she’s protecting. She’s covering her own ass, because if the truth comes out, the Council will investigate her, as well. If that happens, she can plead ignorance, tell them she never knew. The same goes for your aunt. The both of them can pretend to be shocked, while you suffer the consequences. But the scrutiny will be enough to throw their lives into upheaval for quite some time.”

  “Oh, grand. They get ‘scrutinized,’ while I get punished for existing. That sounds completely fair.” Burgundy folded her arms and pouted. There wasn’t much more she could do, considering the way things stood at the moment. At least the pouting gave her a little satisfaction.

  “But there’s an answer and it’s that you need to learn as much damn magick as you possibly can.” Mr. Knight rose from behind the desk and spread his arms, gesturing at the bookshelves. “Only a warlock can harness and maintain the immense power in these books and keep them safe for patrons, because only they have the capacity to use magickal implements. For example...”

  Mr. Knight crossed the library, selected a book off a shelf, and flung it into the air. How he managed it one-handed, Burgundy had no idea. Because the tome was enormous, at least a thousand pages bound between hard covers. And, worse still, was the energy emanating from it. The thing reeked of magick, sweet and pungent as a thunderstorm. Burgundy didn’t have time to duck, to get out of the way, and she doubted her extended hands would catch the book before it fell to the floor.

  The book, however, appeared to have a mind of its own. It hung suspended in midair, the pages ruffling as if a breeze blew through them. It turned and floated toward her, brilliant golden light spilling from its pages.

  “I’ve been waiting for someone to entrust the collection to,” Mr. Knight whispered as Burgundy’s hands met the covers of the floating book. “You are that person. The library never chooses wrong.”

  She looked down at the words scrawled across the glowing pages and shook her head. The glowing text inching across the paper was in a foreign language, one she couldn’t even begin to decipher. “I might be a librarian, but I suck as a warlock.”

  “Then it’s time to quit the bitching and start the—”

  Before Mr. Knight could finish the sentence, Burgundy interrupted. “Warlocking?”

  He grinned and pointed at her. “I like that much better than the original. So, what are you waiting for? Take a chance. It’s your life and no one else can tell you how to live it. Not even the Witches Council.”

  What was Burgundy waiting for? Maybe a little cooperation from her powers, that’s what. But she inhaled deeply and scanned the page. The words finally stopped hunching and creeping, and settled into some semblance of English. Albeit, English that looked burned into the page, but she supposed she couldn’t let that deter her.

  Step one... oh, she’d already done that. Fine, step two, feel her connection to the earth.

  She furrowed her brow. So far, this sounded like the same old witchy nonsense – breathe, ground, center, focus on intent, make shit happen.

  Except, this time?

  This time, shit happened.

  If Burgundy didn’t want to be bored at the library with no patrons, then it seemed the universe was ready to answer that request. Because the moment she focused on wanting another warlock in the room, there he was.

  Not the one she wanted, of course, but this guy was everything she’d never expected in a warlock. The silvery brilliance at the edges of her vision faded and she blinked him into perfect focus. He must have been at least seven feet tall, his entire frame bulging with muscle. He wore a tank top and gray sweatpants, and Burgundy bit her lips. She must have called someone who was at... at the gym?

  The warlock turned to her and grinned, not a particularly reassuring expression in that craggy face of his, and said, “You must be the new librarian. I’ve been waiting for this day to come.”

  “H-have you?” she asked, stumbling back toward the circulation desk.

  “Yes. Every day, I get stronger, more powerful. But the books? The books hold the real secrets. I’ve missed them.” He turned from her, arms wide open as if he might embrace the bookshelves. Then he bellowed, “Knight, my good friend!”

  “Aleksandr, you see I haven’t forgotten about you.”

  Ah, that confirmed that his accent was Russian. Not that the knowledge helped any of the pieces fall into place, but Burgundy set the still-open book down on the desk and watched her boss embrace the burly man. Maybe there was more to this tender moment than met the eye.

  Both men turned to her, still grinning. “Aleksandr is a regular patron when the library is open for business. The more you can make it available to him, the better.”

  “So when I want people, they come, just like that?” Burgundy blinked and glanced at the desk. “Will that work on a cup of coffee?”

  “Anything you put your mind to.” Aleksandr tapped his forefinger to the side of his head. “I must go back now, but you will stay here so I can return, yes?”

  Burgundy nodded. “Absolutely.” Of course, the idea of being with a humongous warlock she didn’t even know made her stomach clench, but the moment he disappeared, Mr. Knight reached out to take her hand.

  “He’s a loyal member of the Firebrand Syndicate and the perfect guide for whatever you need to learn. Don’t hesitate to ask him for anything.”

  “Right, because the first rule of the supernatural is to always trust random strangers.” Burgundy braced herself for Mr. Knight to scowl or chide her for not being willing to take a chance.

  But he simply wagged his finger at her. “I’m serious. You need all the help you can get. Don’t be afraid to use Alek’s knowledge. He’ll answer your questions and then some. He’s a good man, the only one I’d trust with your education, other than your father.”

  Speaking of which... Burgundy swallowed, hoping to eradicate the dry tickle in the back of her throat. Even still, her voice came out as a croak. “Where is he?”

  Mr. Knight patted her shoulder and shook his head. “I can’t tell you.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  The vampire stared at her, still as a fine porcelain statue and unblinking.

  “Fine.” Burgundy blew out a breath and twisted her fingers together. This wasn’t getting her anywhere. “You don’t have to tell me where he is. At least tell me he’s safe.”

  Something in Mr. Knight’s gaze softened and he nodded. “The safest he can be,” he said. “But he has things he needs to do, so you focus on you. The better you get at what you need to learn, the more you can do to help him. Understand?”

  Almost the moment Mr. Knight faded from sight, a booming Russian voice said, “I am back. Let’s get this party started, eh?”

  Burgundy closed her eyes. Center yourself, she thought. You’ll find out what’s going on with your father soon enough.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “A witch? A witch! Rubbish.” Aleksandr slammed his hand down on the table and Burgundy jumped, waiting for the thick wood to split in half.

  Even though she’d gotten used to the warlock’s gruff mannerisms, it was the table she was concerned for. Thankfully, it didn’t fall to pieces, but Burgundy still expected to see a large crack running down the center of it.

  “Training as a witch does you no good, Little Red. Witches and warlocks harness their power in different ways. You’ve lost what it means to be a warlock.”

  “Or I never had it to begin with.” Perched on the chair behind her desk, Burgundy relished the distance between her and the enormous warlock. Maybe the guy wouldn’t hurt a kitten – who knew? But Burgundy knew she didn’t want to be on the receiving end of that fist. Ever.

  “Whoever raised you like this, they did you no favors.” Aleksandr lif
ted his hands to the sky, where he couldn’t do any damage, and heaved an immense sigh. “Witches need structure and preparation. Warlocks simply memorize a spell and can cast it. Boom. Your potential goes unfulfilled until you accept that you don’t use magick. You are magick.”

  No one had ever said it to her like that. Those very words knocked the wind out of her more than an accidental backhand from those muscular arms might.

  “Yes, the witches fear us,” Aleksandr continued, rounding the table to approach her and brace his hands against the desk. “Why? Because they are content with what they do. But we warlocks, we seek to grow our power. Does this make us the natural enemy of witches? That’s what they choose to think, so they have taken your power away from you, Little Red, stolen it from beneath your very nose.”

  Burgundy let out a breath, not quite sure where to begin after his rousing speech. “Aleksandr...”

  “Yes. You know it’s there.” His voice lowered, an encouraging whisper. “Find it, Little Red.”

  “If you stop calling me that, I will,” Burgundy whispered back before closing her eyes and focusing on what she wanted.

  What was it at this moment, besides self-knowledge? Besides freedom from the expectations forced on her by her aunt and mother? Besides – she swallowed – Charlotte?

  One thing.

  Behind her closed lids, something shimmered into view. Her father in a place where green pressed in all around him. Trees, she saw, as the view widened. He faced one direction, the sun at his back. But shadows skulked in the forest behind him, all but lost in the rays of the sun that one would have to squint into to see.

  For the first time in her life, Burgundy called out a word she thought would never pass her lips.

  “Dad!”

  Cian Black turned, first narrowing his eyes as he looked directly into her gaze, then completed the turn to face his enemies. “Go!” he called back and that was it. The vision went dark and Burgundy’s eyes snapped open, thrusting her back into the library.

  Her chest heaved, each frantic breath sucked in and then forced out through her teeth. “Where is he?” she asked, curling her fingers against the surface of the desk. “Where is that place?”

  “I don’t know, but try not to worry. I’m sure your father is safe. Cian Black is sly as a fox. They won’t catch him again.”

  Turn off her worry? Unlikely, especially considering the fact that Burgundy was the whole reason her father ended up imprisoned by the Witches Council in the first place. But if he’d found a way to freedom, she had to accept that he’d fight tooth and nail to keep it that way.

  “You’re no use to your father in your current state. You must learn how to be a proper warlock, get this witch crap out of your head.” Aleksandr waved so vigorously, Burgundy was glad she’d kept distance between them. The force of his hand would’ve knocked her over. “Forget all you’ve learned, everything your aunt taught you. We will start at the beginning.”

  Burgundy stifled yet another Sound of Music reference and nodded. It’d be interesting to see what the beginning meant to a warlock. She couldn’t work without the basics and if Aleksandr was offering them, she wasn’t in a position to turn him down.

  Aleksandr didn’t teach her how to attune to nature or calculate planetary positions, let alone moon phases and herbal properties. Instead, his basics started with playing Hide & Seek.

  With each moment that ticked by, Burgundy scrunched in the conveniently person-sized spot between two shelves while his heavy footsteps came closer. Hide from that monster? Even her heart hammered at the position she was now in, hunted by Aleksandr.

  “If you don’t want me to find you,” he bellowed, “then don’t let me find you.”

  Burgundy squeezed her eyes shut. This was it. She’d trusted the wrong guy. Any moment now, he’d reach in and pull her out by the scruff of her neck, like a forlorn puppy that’d lost its way. Don’t find me. And then he’d laugh and tell her how pathetic she was as a warlock. Don’t find me. Forced to concede defeat, she’d go home to her aunt, tell her she was right, and agree to declare the domestic path of witchcraft. Don’t find me.

  She swallowed around the hard, warm lump that formed in her throat. Oh yes, domestic witchcraft. Spend the rest of her life trapped on a path that basically made her a magick-using Cinderella. Sweeping, mopping, cooking, stirring coffee with a thought. Whoopie!

  You will not fucking find me, you big oaf.

  Silence. No more footsteps or creaking floorboards. Hardly daring to breathe, Burgundy opened both eyes.

  Aleksandr was right in front of her, peering at her with his brows drawn together. But then he turned and lumbered across the room. “You play a good game,” he called out so loudly, Burgundy wanted to clap her hands over her ears. “But now we are done, yes?”

  Were they?

  Burgundy stepped out from her hiding place and said, “I’m here.”

  The man turned, arms flailing out to both sides. Once again, she was thankful nothing stood in his clumsy path. “So you are! Where were you?”

  She pointed at the small cubby behind her, but when she looked over her shoulder, it was gone. No space, just books filling the spot. “I... It was empty a second ago.”

  “That’s what the library does, Little Red. It takes care of the person who takes care of it. It gave you a place to hide, but the real magick was in how you disappeared.” Aleksandr approached her, forcing Burgundy to crane her neck to look up at him. “When I passed that spot, I thought it strange that the books and shelves looked wavy.”

  “Wavy?”

  “Like heat on the street in the summer. The way it waves in the air. The library gave you a place to hide, but you are the one who made yourself invisible.”

  Burgundy’s heart pounded not with fear this time, but excitement. She thought it might burst out of her chest. “I did that. I really did that.” She pressed her hands to her mouth, hating the feeling of hot tears stinging her eyes. “All my life, I’ve thought I was a subpar witch, when really I was a repressed warlock. How’s that even possible?”

  Aleksandr’s large hand came flying at her. Before she could think to duck out of the way, it landed on her head, soft and gentler than she’d imagined it could be. “They took your power from you and they did it the most effective way possible – by making sure you didn’t realize you had it to begin with.”

  Despite the pain in her chest, Burgundy found the breath to say, “Yes, they did,” before breaking down into tears. Part of her rebelled at this, told her she should have been happy. She told that part to shut up and let her cry until every last tear had fallen.

  When things dried up, she gave herself one more hug and sniffled. “That felt good.”

  “I’m sure it did. You needed to remove that block. Now you can do anything.” Aleksandr spread his hands wide and grinned at her.

  “Anything? Like, can I force world peace to happen or make a million dollars appear?” Wouldn’t both of those be lovely!

  “Not quite anything,” he amended. “What you can do is cast your spells on the fly, as needed. No rituals, no trying to access a part of you that is buried. It’s all right here.” He jabbed two fingers in the general direction of her heart.

  “And I can stand up to the Witches Council,” Burgundy said before clearing her still tear-filled throat. “I can tell them no, I won’t declare a path.”

  The narrow-eyed look Aleksandr sliced her made a shiver dance up her spine. “That, I would not recommend.”

  “Why not? I have to stand before them anyway. My birthday is just over a week away. I can’t stop time from passing.” She considered a moment and then asked, “Can I?”

  “Again, our magick doesn’t work like that, but here’s what you can do.” Aleksandr crouched so he was eye-level with her, icy blue eyes flashing in the light. “Don’t go.”

  “That’s not an option. My aunt will make me.” The thought of even returning to Aunt Iris’s house left a bitter taste in Burgundy’s mout
h.

  “She can’t make you. You could stay here or come to the Firebrand Syndicate. We would give you a place to live, a place where you need never fear another witch again. Not even your own mother.”

  Leave it all behind – her obligation to show up at the Witches Council, the potential for the Finders to accuse her of all sorts of nefarious things, her aunt’s insistence that she fall into line, and... She swallowed.

  And all the delightfully quirky people of Rock Grove.

  ****

  BURGUNDY LIFTED A HAND in greeting as Charlotte smiled at her.

  “Give me a sec.” Charlotte turned back to the diner door and inserted her key in the deadbolt. After locking the door, she bounded toward Burgundy, ponytail bouncing with each step. “Hey you!” She wrapped her arms around Burgundy, enveloping her in a hug that smelled of deep fried deliciousness.

  It was what she needed in the moment. Warmth. Love. Charlotte. Her very own Charlotte.

  Burgundy closed her eyes and held on tight, lacing her hands together around Charlotte’s waist. For the second time that day, tears slid from her eyes.

  Even if Charlotte was a magick-user of sorts herself, there was no way the Firebrand Syndicate would let her in. They might shelter Burgundy and give her the education she needed to become a powerful warlock. But they’d draw a line somewhere.

  And, damn it, Burgundy wasn’t ready to pack it all in yet.

  Charlotte drew back and blinked at Burgundy. “Are you crying?”

  Burgundy sniffled to restrain further tears. “Only sort of.”

  “Well, you look... I don’t know. There’s something different about you. Did you get a haircut or something?”

  “No. I’ve been at the library most of the day. The other library.”

  “Oh.” Charlotte’s half-smile and soft gaze stayed focused on Burgundy. She caressed her hair, running her hand down the strands. “You’re happy there, you know that? Normally, your emotions are kind of... even-keeled, I guess. But today, you’re glowing. It’s different, like you’re comfortable just being you, like something’s unlocked in there. I’m not explaining it well, I guess.”