by D. G. Swank
“It belongs to the coven, Celeste,” I said softly.
The glare she shot me let me know she was done discussing it.
I couldn’t help wondering if my half-crazed sister should be the sole witch responsible for a book filled with the stuff of nightmares, but now wasn’t the time to reason with her.
Brandon shot me a glance that suggested he agreed.
Celeste set the book on the floor, then knelt in front of it, gently caressing the cover.
I hadn’t seen the book, unglamoured, since our mother had sat us down in the living room, just weeks before her death, and given us the solemn talk that would change our lives forever. I remembered how beautiful it looked—encased in pristine burgundy leather, with gold lettering and gilt pages that made the sunlight glance off it like it was graced by sprites. With our father by her side, she’d set it down on the coffee table and asked if we were ready for what was next. I remembered expecting toxic spells to burst forth when she opened it or, at the very least, for some great secret to be revealed that only the five of us would know. And, I suppose, that was what happened.
Slowly, layer by layer, she’d removed the spells and glamours that cloaked the book. Before our eyes, the brilliance of the leather faded, the gold lettering chipped off, and the corners of the cover flaked away. In the end, when all the cloaking magic was removed, the Book of Sindal was nothing more than a plain brown hardcover book, the spine broken, about a hundred deeply yellowed pages long. Mom had opened the front cover, and my breath had caught, terrified of the horrors it held.
“There are some terrible things in this book, darlings,” our mother had explained. “Combinations of intentions, spells, and blood magic that can remove a witch’s free will, take control of her body, and make her do things that she would never in a million years willingly do. Anyone who would sink into depravity to seek out such a book, steal it, and execute this magic is someone whose soul is truly blackened beyond repair. This, in part, is why we must guard it—so that anyone who would seek it out is brought to the fore, so that our world knows darkness has once again settled into its bones.”
Like all magic, the Book of Sindal was both less, and so much more, than what it seemed.
“I hope, my daughters, that you never experience this. Our protections are strong—they could not be stronger. With three witches in a coven bond, fortified by generations of magic cast by witches who have protected the book as well, it should be safe. We know this is a lot to ask, especially for those so young—and gods willing, it will be many years until it is your responsibility—but your survival is at stake, along with all of witchkind as we know it.”
“When the time comes,” our father said, “you will do what is right.” He placed his hand on Celeste’s head. “I know you will.” Our father’s voice had been melodic, I remembered, always soothing, even when he was angry.
Our parents had died mere weeks later.
The memory flooded me, every detail, every nuance, and I could tell Celeste was remembering the same thing. She lifted her gaze to me and I nodded.
We had done the right thing. We had to be content hoping that we’d made our mother proud tonight.
The magic Donall had done on the book certainly showed. There was no pretense of a fancy leather cover, no gilding on the pages. The simple, sad pages looked like they could crack and flutter away at any moment, crumbling into dust in the wind. The spine had broken even more, some pages peeking out at the bottom. Those pages were soaked in blood.
Celeste and I let out a shuddering breath together. With our coven bond, we didn’t have to speak our fear. It was likely that blood from both of our bodies had soaked into the pages. Because the book’s protections were tied to our unique magic, it was now at greater risk than ever before.
Brandon’s body vibrated with tension. “Donall is never getting his hands on that book again, I swear.”
I looked up at him and saw the anger in his eyes. I didn’t need to be able to read his mind to know that he felt he had failed me, failed the Council, failed all of our people.
“No,” I said firmly. “He isn’t.”
“For all that work, he certainly wasn’t precise about where he positioned the damned thing under the floorboards,” Celeste said. “I’m pretty sure our blood was supposed to coat the book.”
Gingerly, she tipped it to one side, and then the other.
“The Council will examine it. I’m sure they’ll be able to clean it up,” Brandon said.
I doubted that—blood magic ran deeper than any other kind. Once something was imbued with it, there was no way I knew of to extract it. It was as close to permanent as magic could get.
“Where’s the scroll?” I asked, then turned to Celeste. “Did you see the scroll?”
“What scroll?”
“Maybe Bieler stole it for himself,” Brandon said. “He may not have told Donall about it.”
“What was in the scroll?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I had my agents check into Terrance Posner, and no one knows anything about a scroll, let alone what could be on it. Posner was Markus Bieler’s magical mentor in college, but we know very little of their relationship.”
A deep rumbling noise crested through the air, and moments later, a rhythmic whap-whap-whap descended over the house.
“It’s the Council transport,” Brandon said. “They came by helicopter to get here faster. They’ll want to ask a few questions, and then we can go.”
“Home?” I asked hopefully. Now that I was with Celeste, I needed Rowan too. Something deep in my bones needed the three of us to be together. Three sisters. Three witches. We needed to strengthen our coven.
“The sooner the better,” Celeste murmured. “The darkness is rising.”
Her words sent a chill down my back that settled into the base of my spine. No, this wasn’t over yet.
The moment the helicopter touched down in our front yard, I dashed toward the house with Celeste beside me, once again cradling the book in her arms like it was her most prized possession. Rowan was waiting on the front porch, and the book didn’t stop our big sister from throwing her arms around both of us and holding us tight.
“I’m not letting the two of you out of my sight,” Rowan said. “Get inside. We’ll need to patch you up. From what you told me, we may need to call the healers in.”
Celeste grumbled that she’d be fine, but neither of us missed the small smile on her lips.
Brandon had hopped off the helicopter several seconds behind us and now stood in the front yard, hesitating as though he felt like he was intruding.
Rowan sensed his presence and stiffened, staring him down like she was a mother bear and he was threatening her cubs. “I suppose we’re going to be seeing a lot more of you,” she said.
“Yes,” he said, squaring his shoulders. “A lot more.”
She continued to stare for several more seconds before she said, “Then I hope you like pizza. We eat a lot of it.”
I felt the tension drain out of me.
A cocky smile lit up Bran’s face. “I can live with that.”
He started to walk toward the house, but she called out, “Not so fast. We have a few more things to clear up. First, what do you intend to do about Celeste?”
He gave my baby sister a brief glance, then said, “It was obvious she’d been kidnapped and held against her will.”
But was she? Sure, she’d been tied up and nearly sacrificed on the orders of that maniac, but according to Gwen, Markus Bieler had been in contact with her. I’d asked her about it while Brandon was greeting his agents. She hadn’t given me an explanation about Markus. All she’d said was that Donall had snuck up on her and knocked her out while she was performing her part of the monthly ceremony. She claimed she’d first come to in the farmhouse in Kansas, but I could tell there was a lot she wasn’t telling me.
“Next,” Rowan said, “I need to know if you’ll protect my sisters from your brother.
”
Pain flashed in his eyes. “I already did once. I’ll do it again if the situation arises.”
“Were you protecting him before?” Rowan asked. “Did you know it was him?”
“I had my suspicions that he might be involved in the movement, but I hadn’t talked to him in years, so it was a damn long shot. It never would have occurred to me that he’d be in charge.”
I could only guess how much Brandon was grieving that fact.
I walked down the steps toward him and he enveloped me in his arms, burying his face into my neck.
The feeling of home and family swamped me and tears rolled down my cheeks. We had a lot to figure out going forward. Things would change. I had no idea what would happen with the Book of Sin or the Dark Set, but for now, we were home. We were safe. All was well.
Epilogue
Two Days Later
* * *
I collapsed onto the comfortable sheets in my own, beloved bed. I was covered in sweat, naked, and my chest was heaving after another blissful encounter with the man who was now officially my boyfriend.
Bran lay beside me in exactly the same state, and I smirked at the very, very recent memory of him shouting his pleasure into my neck. Gods, we’d slept together more times, more ways, and in more positions than I could count, and I still couldn’t get enough of him.
My sisters had gone from amused to irritated, and had finally settled on charming the walls between our bedrooms to keep out the sounds of our happiness.
I hauled myself onto my side, then propped my head up on my elbow so I could look down at him. “Again?” I asked with a wide grin.
“Give a man a minute,” Bran groaned.
I rolled on top of him and giggled at the feeling of him twitching against my stomach, already gearing up for round two.
I knew it was fast, and lots of people saw it as hasty, Rowan included. I reminded her we’d actually known each other for a decade, and that he had saved me from certain death. Twice.
“What do you think the Council is going to say about the book?” I asked him.
The Council had called an emergency meeting, which meant Bran would be leaving in a few hours. The Whelan sisters had requested to be included in the decision, but we’d been quickly denied.
Brandon hummed, pulling me back down and snugging my body under his arm. “I don’t know. I’ve heard rumors that they want to split the book into pieces, to enhance security measures. I’ll find out soon enough, but in all honesty, I suspect they are going to take it. And soon.”
It had become like a phantom limb all these years, and a representation of my family’s contribution to witchkind. The thought of it being torn in two felt vaguely like having all my hair chopped off without my consent—utterly wrong. Celeste would lose her mind if they took it. But if it kept the book from Donall…
“I know, Phebes,” Brandon said, holding me tighter. “I will never forgive myself for not stopping him for good.”
“You saved my life,” I said. I stretched up to kiss his chin softly and a soft whimper echoed in his throat.
“You saved mine too,” he said.
“And even if you had stopped Donall, he’s only one member of the Dark Set,” I said.
“But he’s the head of it,” Brandon said. “And it would have taken them a lot longer to regroup without him.”
“For what it’s worth,” I said softly, “if Celeste had been part of it, I doubt I could have killed her either.”
We were quiet for a while, and I focused on the feeling of his fingers trailing up and down my arm. “We really were meant to be together,” Brandon said. “The psychic bond just seals the deal. I’d always hoped, but it’s nice to have the universe’s approval.”
“I love you.” I molded my lips to his, taking all the time I wanted to savor him. He gave back as good as he got, and before I knew it, we were in the midst of a heated round two.
He flipped me on my back and slid into me, slow and deep, taking his time, in and out with every heartbeat. I met him movement for movement, clutching at him, telling and showing him how much I loved him.
“I’m yours,” he said into my collarbone when we finished. “I love you, Phoebe.” He propped himself up on his elbow and flashed me a grin. “You think Rowan and Celeste are gonna be okay with me loitering around your house all the time?”
I shrugged. “They want me to be happy. And you make me happy.”
“And I do have the sort of charm that grows on people.”
I laughed about that, both because it was true and because I’d already seen it working on my sisters. The day before, Bran had spent that afternoon with Celeste, learning about her expression magic and suggesting ways to help her. He said he had a friend who might be able to work with her so she wasn’t so drained and anxious all the time, not that it was a problem right now anyway. We were both still magically drained after the incident. It was impossible to go through something like that and be back to normal forty-eight hours later.
At least, that’s what I told myself.
Because Celeste was right. The darkness was rising and we needed to prepare.
Reign of Mist
Book of Sindal Book Two
July 2, 2019
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Chapter One
Everyone hates their sisters, at least a little.
That’s what I’ve always told myself.
“Phoebe, can you please turn down the TV?” I asked for the third time as I stood at the kitchen counter. “I can’t concentrate.” I was tweaking my butternut squash and portabella mushroom hash recipe for my YouTube cooking show, making notes on the amount of apple cider vinegar for the next batch. The dialogue in the Hallmark movie my sister had on in the living room was making me nauseous.
“I already turned it down,” she grumbled from the other room. “If I turn it down any lower, I won’t be able to hear Quinton propose to Katrina at the square dance. He has the perfect proposal planned.” She practically sighed the last part. Phoebe was a sucker for a good romance.
I rolled my eyes so hard I gave myself a minor headache. “Oh please. All those movies are the same. Why do you waste your time watching them?”
Especially since you have the real thing, the tiny jealous monster inside me growled.
While Phoebe had only been with her mage boyfriend for two weeks, they were both head over heels in love. Sickeningly so. The man had practically moved into our small house, and I was beginning to choke on the testosterone overload. Brandon Cassidy was all man—tall, beefy muscles, and an ego large enough to suck all the oxygen from the room. We’d known him in high school. His reputation for going through girls like tissues had been legendary, which was why I’d threatened bodily harm when high school junior Brandon had expressed a sudden interest in my little sister. To my shock, he’d stayed away.
I’d had a few contemplative moments over the past couple of weeks, wondering if my interference had unfairly cost them ten years together, but Brandon’s news about the Book of Sindal had ended my short bout of self-recrimination. The Valerian Small Council—the governing authority for witches and mages—had decided to take the book from us and move it to a “secure” location while they decided its ultimate fate. But rather than defend our right to protect it at the farm, he’d agreed with their ruling.
Whelans had been guarding the Book of Sindal for literally hundreds of years, protecting the world from a tome containing deadly and evil spells. But two weeks ago, the book and Celeste had been taken from us by the Dark Set, a group of mages who planned to use the book to steal magic from witches. And while the Valerian Small Council had assured us that they didn’t blame the Whelan sisters for the theft, they claimed they needed to reevaluate the protections for the Book of Sindal to make sure everyone was protected,
including us. It all sounded practical and logical, but I couldn’t help worrying that something sinister was afoot, despite Brandon’s assurances that the book was well guarded by the Protective Force, the magical world’s police force. In my heart of hearts, I felt I’d made the right decision about Brandon Cassidy all those years ago. He’d been an asshole then, and despite the way he was treating my sister now, I wasn’t convinced he was a changed man.
Phoebe had been upset too, but Brandon had convinced her that moving the book was the safest option for all of us. Celeste, already driven to the brink of insanity by her unique expression magic, had lost it, saying the book had chosen her and they couldn’t be parted. It was taken anyway, of course, and none of us knew where they were keeping it. Celeste hadn’t spoken to Brandon in over a week, which made things more than a little awkward when the four of us were together in the Whelan family seventeen-hundred-square-foot farmhouse.
Brandon had left a few days ago to attend an emergency Small Council meeting, and while he hadn’t been permitted to share any details, he’d called Phoebe afterward to tell her that he’d been given a special assignment and would be back soon. Part of me wondered if he was staying away because of Celeste’s cold shoulder. Not that I was eager for him to return. Watching my sister and her boyfriend together was a sharp reminder that I hadn’t been with a man in months. Multiple months. Like eighteen of them. But even if I had a boyfriend, I wouldn’t be draped all over him like a silk scarf. Phoebe was the touchy-feely Whelan sister. Our baby sister was the eccentric one. And I—Rowan Elizabeth Whelan—was the aloof, sarcastic sister.
I often wondered whether there was a correlation between a person’s magic and their temperament, because that certainly seemed to be the case in the Whelan family. I’d suggested the idea to my mother when I was a teenager, but she’d sworn it wasn’t possible. Still…I wondered. Most witches and mages took energy for their magic from something else. Phoebe’s gift of ancestral magic allowed her to borrow the magic of ancestors who were buried nearby. (One reason she’d have trouble living anywhere but our farmhouse, which was situated about a quarter mile from our family cemetery.) She had to play nice to get them to loan their magic. Perhaps that was why kindness was such an inherent part of her personality. Celeste’s expression magic, on the other hand, was wild and unharnessed—she literally pulled it from thin air. Surely that was why she only seemed half there most of the time.