A brass urn flew from the bookshelf, sailed across the room, and smashed into the wall. Leah flung herself from the sofa, skewering me with a glare before turning that glare on the urn.
"Whoops," I said. "Did you miss? Maybe you aren't as good as you think you are."
This time, the whole bookshelf jerked free from its moorings. It shuddered, rocked once, and came to rest, still upright. I cast a binding spell before she could try again.
"When I let go, you leave," I said. "Don't think I've forgotten what you did to my mother. And don't think for one second that I can't kill you where you stand, or that I'm not considering it at this very moment."
When I released the binding spell, Leah glared at me once, then stormed from the house, slamming the door in her wake.
"So her power decreases as her emotions escalate," Cortez said. "Very interesting."
"And handy. Did you figure out her tell?"
Cortez shook his head.
"Damn. Well, I can't worry about that now. I need to discuss something with Savannah." I started to leave, then turned to him. "Should I be worried? About retaliation?"
"From Leah?" He shook his head. "The Cabals have clipped her claws. She knows the penalty for acting without their assent, particularly if those actions jeopardize a current project. It's considered treason. Punishable by death. A very unpleasant death."
"Good."
Cortez adjusted his glasses. "I have, uh, finished my work. Once you've spoken with Savannah, perhaps we could ... that is, if you feel up to it--"
"The spell swap," I said with a smile. "Don't worry. I haven't forgotten. It's next on my list. Just let me finish with Savannah."
CHAPTER 30
THE KEY
"Tell me about the sorcerer spells again."
We were sitting cross-legged on Savannah's bed.
"Almost any strong spell a witch casts is sorcerer magic," Savannah said. "Like the knock-back spell I used on that paranormal guy? Same thing Lucas used on those people out front. You know some sorcerer spells, right?"
"A few."
"I can teach you more. Or Lucas can. They're pretty good, but witch magic would be better. You know, that whole thing about us each being better at our own spells. Except witches don't have a choice. I mean, we have all the primary spells and some of those are good, like the binding spell. Sorcerers can't beat us at the protection and healing stuff. That's why the Cabals recruit witches. If we had our own spells, though, we'd be way stronger."
"But the grimoires I have are witch magic. Strong witch magic."
"Right. That's what my mom said, too. Those were her books, you know."
"My grimoires?"
"Yep." Savannah picked up her stuffed bear and smoothed its fur, keeping her gaze on the toy as she continued. "She used to talk about them. The lost books. Only they weren't lost, I guess. The Coven just hid them. She kinda figured that. Anyway, she talked about them all the time, how much she wanted them back, even though they didn't work."
I struggled to keep up with her, to piece the fragments together. A million questions ran through my mind, but I decided to start at the end.
"She couldn't get any of the spells to work?"
"None. But you could, which is weird. You're an okay spell-caster and all, but my mom was amazing. But, then, she was probably only your age when she tried them, so maybe--" Savannah stopped. "That's weird, huh? I hadn't thought of that. You guys both trying them, both being around the same age. That means ..." Her lips moved as if calculating. "You were around when my mom left, weren't you?"
I nodded. "I must have been four or five, but I don't remember her. You know, I never thought of this, but I bet we've got photos of your mom around here somewhere, in one of my mother's old albums. She was always snapping pictures at Coven picnics and parties. There must be photos."
"You think so?" Savannah laid down her stuffed bear. "That'd be cool. I don't have any pictures."
"You don't--oh, God. Of course you don't. I never thought ..."
"That's okay," she said. "When we moved ... I noticed you didn't put the pictures of your mom back up. I kinda wondered why not, but then I kinda understood, too. It's tough enough sometimes, without being reminded."
Our eyes met. I felt mine well up and rubbed my hand over them.
"I'll look for the photos as soon as I can," I said.
Savannah nodded. "Okay. Lucas is waiting for you, so let's talk about the grimoires."
"Right. Now why did your mother say they didn't work?"
" 'Cause they're tri--uh, tre--tertiary spells, that's it. That means you need to know the middle spells first. Only we don't have them. The witches, I mean. We've only got the primary ones. The Coven got rid of the middle ones."
"Got rid of them?"
"That's what my mom figured. The Coven decided the spells were too strong, so they burned them or something."
"Who told her that? My mother?"
"No, no. My mom never had any problems with your mom. It wasn't her fault, what happened. It was the Elders."
"So the Elders claimed they destroyed the books."
"No. I meant it was the Elders' fault my mom left the Coven. They didn't know anything about the secondary books. Another witch told my mom about those."
I rubbed my temples. This wasn't making any sense. I longed to tell her to stop, to go back and proceed logically from the beginning, but I was almost afraid that if I did, I'd lose everything, like a wisp of smoke I had to catch before it vanished.
"So a non-Coven witch told your mom that these intermediate spells were missing."
"Right. Mom found this witch who had a copy of one of those grimoires."
"The grimoires I have now?"
"Right. Mom stole the grimoires from Aunt Margaret's library. She was the keeper of the books or whatever they called it. Aunt Margaret, I mean."
"She still is. So your mother took the books and found out they didn't work."
"Right. So she went back to Aunt Margaret and asked why. Aunt Margaret figured out that my mom stole them, so she told the Elders. Your mom said it didn't matter, since the spells didn't work, but Victoria flipped out and caused a big stink about it and my mom got fed up and left the Coven."
" Uh-huh." My head was starting to hurt.
"So how'd you get them?"
"Hmmm?"
"Where'd you find the grimoires?"
I had to pause and clear my mind even to remember. "I found them in the Coven library. In Margaret's collection."
"Wow. So she didn't throw them out after all? Weird."
"Very weird. When we go there later, to get the ceremony book, I'll have some questions for her."
Savannah nodded. We finished talking, then I went to find Cortez.
When I heard Cortez rustling around in the kitchen, I smiled and quickened my pace, suddenly eager to--To what? I stopped in the hallway, and it took a moment to realize that I'd been hurrying to tell him the news about the grimoires.
Naturally, I was excited. If I could unlock the secret of these spells, it would mean not only that I'd have stronger spells to protect Savannah, but that I'd have stronger spells to offer all witches. This could truly be the key to everything I'd dreamed of. With these spells, I could help witches regain their rightful place in the supernatural world.
The implications were mind-boggling, and of course I wanted to share them with someone, but there was more to it than that. I didn't want to tell just anyone. I wanted to tell Cortez. Logically, as a sorcerer, he probably couldn't care less about newly discovered witch spells or, if he did, he'd want to suppress them, to ensure his race's supremacy. Yet I couldn't imagine Cortez doing that. Somehow, as foolish as it might sound, I felt he'd be happy for me or, perhaps even more importantly, that he'd understand. I could take this news to every witch in the Coven, and some might congratulate me, might even be pleased for me, but they wouldn't really understand. With Cortez, I felt it would be ... different.
I paused in the hal
l and considered telling him. Seriously considered it. But I decided to speak to Margaret first and then, if I really had what I thought I had here, I'd talk to Cortez about it.
I walked through the kitchen door to see Cortez eyeing two canisters of tea.
"You don't want the one on the left," I said. "It's a sleeping brew."
"That's what I was trying to figure out. Savannah told me the sleeping brew was on the right, but I believe she returned the canisters to the wrong places."
"I don't doubt it. Sometimes I think she puts things back in the wrong places on purpose, so I won't ask her to tidy up. I remember trying that with my mom. Only she decided it just meant I needed more practice tidying up." I took the canisters. "Both of these, however, are caffeine free, so for today I think I'll stick with coffee."
"I just brewed a pot."
"Damn, you're good. Let's grab some, then, and start the spell swap."
CHAPTER 31
SPELL-CASTING MONOPOLY
Before we started, I popped a frozen lasagna into the oven for dinner. Then I brought out my Coven grimoire and spell-casting journals, and ushered Cortez into the living room. With his help, I moved the coffee table aside. Then I settled onto the carpet, cross-legged.
"This okay?" I said.
He nodded and sat across from me.
"This is all I've got," I said, laying out my grimoire and journals. "Well, all that works, anyway. These are the Coven-approved spells, and in my journals I've written down a few others that I picked up. I may not have what you're looking for."
"No, you probably do. I believe they'd all be Coven-sanctioned, probably level three or four. I'm still struggling through third level, but there are several fourth level spells I'd like to discuss, in the expectation--or hope--that I progress that far."
"You know your levels, then," I said. "Good. But how come--no offense, but you are a Cabal CEO's son, so you must have access to the best spells available, even witch spells."
"Obtaining witch spells is not as simple a matter as you might expect, largely due to the ongoing animosity between the races. Most sorcerers won't avail themselves of witch magic, no matter how practical it might be. For those, such as myself, who wish the knowledge, it can be very difficult to obtain. Witches, quite understandably, are loath to give us access to their power. The lower-level spells are commonplace, but the higher ones are well guarded by the few witches who can cast them."
"Any decent witch can cast them. Even fourth level isn't tough, if you have the experience." I hesitated, remembering what Savannah had said. "Unless, of course, you're a witch who prefers sorcerer magic, in which case, I suppose, you might never gain that level of experience."
"Precisely. Even Cabal witches, who can cast the more difficult witch spells, don't like to part with the information. Given my Cabal standing, they don't dare refuse my requests, but I suspect they leave out a critical word or two of the incantation, so it will appear that I simply lack the skill to cast it properly."
" Passive-aggressive witches. Got a few of them around here, too." I reached out and took a cookie from the plate Cortez had laid between us. "Okay, so what do you want to know?"
"First, the cover spell."
I pretended to choke on my cookie. "Let's just start at the top, shall we? Next to the binding spell, that's probably the best defensive weapon we've got. No wonder the Cabal witches are giving you phony spells."
"Is that a no?"
"It's a yes, but it's gonna cost ya, and I don't mean dollars, either, though that might be a good way to knock down my bill."
Cortez picked up a cookie. "Speaking of my bill, I should point out that such payment was only part of my initial money-hungry-lawyer guise. My services are offered 'pro bono,' so to speak. If you are inclined to pay me, though, given the choice between monetary and magical remuneration, I would far prefer the latter."
"You'd rather have new spells than cash?" I grinned. "My kinda guy. I'll warn you, though, being of the same bent myself, I'd rather pay your bill with a check and trade on the spells."
A crooked smile. "Quite acceptable. For the cover spell, then ..."
"Well, here you have the advantage, because I don't know of many sorcerer spells. There's the one you did the other day--I think Savannah called it the knock-back spell--but she knows that, so I'll get it from her. There's that anticonfusion spell which, granted, didn't seem to work, but with Savannah around, I may need to know it."
"And you had the calming spell, which did work. I'd certainly like that."
I sipped my coffee as I racked my brain for more sorcerer spells. "Barrier spell. I definitely want that."
"Barrier spell?" His brows arched. "That one is, as you say, gonna cost ya. I'm still working on that one myself."
"Cover spell for barrier spell?"
He nodded and took another cookie.
"And calming for anticonfusion." I laughed. "I feel like I'm trading baseball cards here. Or playing Monopoly. I'll give you Broadway for Atlantic and one railroad."
"Is that how you play Monopoly? I always suspected my father was doing it wrong."
"How did your father play it? Or dare I ask?"
He bit into his cookie and chewed before answering. "He took the title rather seriously. Global domination was the goal, at any cost. To win, one had to control all the property and drive one's competitors to bankruptcy. Bribery, usurious interest rates, housing development kickbacks--it was a very complicated, cutthroat game."
"Sounds like ... fun."
"It was not without challenge, but it left one with the feeling of having accomplished relatively little of consequence at an overwhelming moral price. And, as you might imagine, ultimately, not much fun. I eventually started arguing the case for a more equitable division of assets, with needs-driven interest rates and financial aid for those experiencing a temporary downturn in fortunes. My father, of course, disagreed, but was ultimately unable to sway my beliefs and I soon stopped playing with him. An early sign of things to come, I fear."
I laughed and shook my head. "So, you don't play Monopoly any more, I'm guessing."
"It wasn't my game."
"What is your game? What do you like to do when you're not saving the world?"
He finished off his cookie. "Games have never been my forte. Sports even less so. I am, however, reasonably proficient at poker. I bluff quite well, a skill that has made me a few dollars when the need arose."
I grinned. "I can imagine that."
"How about you?"
"Not big on the sports, either. I do like games, though. Anything that's fun. Pool's a favorite."
His brows went up. "Pool?"
"What? I don't strike you as the pool shark type? Pool's great. Helps me build up concentration and precision for spell-casting. If you can sink a shot in a noisy pool hall, with friends trying to spoil your shot and with a few bottles of beer swimming through your system, then you can cast a spell under the worst circumstances."
"That makes sense. I'll admit, I could use more practice spell-casting under adverse conditions. Do you find--"
A shrill whistle cut him short. He frowned, then looked in the direction of the sound, through the kitchen doorway and toward the answering machine on the counter.
"It appears your overloaded machine has finally surrendered," he said.
I pushed myself to my feet as the machine whistled again. "That's not it."
I walked into the kitchen and turned up the volume.
"Paige! Pick up!" Adam's shout reverberated through the kitchen. "You don't answer, I'm going to assume the worst and catch the next plane--"
I lifted the receiver.
"Good excuse," I said. "I'm sure you can very well guess why I'm not answering the phone."
"Because you're overwhelmed and understaffed ... or under-friended."
" Under-friended?"
"Lacking the support of friends. There should be a word for that. Point is, you could obviously use my help."
; "To do what, answer the phone? Hold on."
I covered the mouthpiece and turned to Cortez, who was still in the living room.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I really should take this. I'll be back in a few minutes."
I took the phone to my room and told Adam what was going on. I didn't tell him about the grimoires. If I had, I can imagine his response. I'd tell him that I might have finally unlocked the secrets of true witch magic and he'd have said something like: "Whoa, that's great, way to go, Paige ... oh, and that reminds me, I finally got my Jeep to stop making that knocking noise." Adam is a great guy, and a wonderful friend, but there are things in my life he just doesn't get.
We chatted until I heard the distant ding of the oven timer.
"Whoops," I said. "Lost track of time. Dinner's ready. I have to go."
"You sure you don't need me?"
"Positive. And don't bother trying to call here. I'll phone you with an update as soon as I can."
I ended the conversation and headed into the hall.
Savannah's voice floated from the kitchen. "--just friends. Good friends, but that's it."
The oven door clanged shut. I walked in to see Cortez taking the lasagna from the oven as Savannah watched from her perch on the counter.
"Supervising?" I said.
"Someone has to," she said.
"While you're up there, grab the plates." I leaned over to turn off the oven. "I'll take it from here. Thanks."
Cortez nodded. "I'll wash up."
Savannah watched him leave, then jumped from the counter and scurried to my side.
"He was asking about Adam," she said in a stage whisper.
I took the foil off the lasagna. "Hmmm?"
"Lucas. He was asking about Adam. You and Adam. I came in, you were gone, he said you were on the phone, so I checked call display on my phone and told him it was Adam. Then I said you'd be a while because you guys, like, talk forever, and he said, 'Oh, so they're pretty good friends,' or something like that."
" Uh-huh." I sliced into the middle of the lasagna, making sure it was cooked through. "I think the lettuce is wilted, but could you check it for me?"
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