Chapter 1 The Book
THE BOOK
Winter is best spent dreaming.
Kulden proverb
There is an old bookshop called the Wanderer’s Wonders in the heart of Kulden—a small, often forgotten town tucked in a far northern corner of England—and as far as Claudia Jolicoeur is concerned, it’s magical, for it always has something she needs.
From love stories and poetry to theories and discoveries, she has never once been able to leave empty-handed in the decade that she’s been coming here.
She and her mother used to come twice a week for Claudia to buy any book of her choosing.
Back then, they could afford it. Her mother was a Roe, the only daughter of the famous watchmakers who made a fortune from being the first to include minute hands on their signature timepieces.
Things changed when Claudia’s father was introduced to fine wine and expensive cigars, to boxing and betting on horse races.
As it turned out, he didn’t have the constitution to merely sip his vices.
He gorged on them at the expense of their entire fortune.
Now her mother is long dead, their money long gone, and it has taken an entire month for Claudia to scrounge up enough coins to buy one book.
Her father has been pawning her mother’s jewelry—all pieces that were meant to be Claudia’s.
She’s entitled to the money he makes from those sales, though her father doesn’t agree.
Instead of arguing for what she’s owed, she spares herself the trouble by pocketing it when he sleeps, little by little so that he won’t notice.
One book a month makes her feel like her brain is shriveling up.
She’d considered stealing some—old Mr. Aimes who owns the shop is half blind and half asleep at all times—but she could never bring herself to do it.
No matter how far her family has fallen in station, no matter how much money they’ve lost to her father’s gambling, she would never stoop so low as to be a liar and a thief.
She is still a lady, and the Jolicoeurs are still good, regardless of what the society papers say.
A bell chimes when she walks in. She shakes the snow out of her curly brown hair and pulls her green cloak tight around her shoulders.
The wood floor is slippery from half-melted snow that customers have tracked in.
Mud decorates the damp hem of her black dress.
Candlelight pulses in sconces between the bookshelves, but it’s not enough to warm up the drafty building.
She walks down the narrow pathways lined with mismatched rugs that are probably colorful under years of muddy boot prints.
Rows of books tower over her, their leather spines wrinkled.
In the darkest corner of the shop, where Romance meets History, it smells earthy, almost floral.
Claudia smiles. Judging by the silence, she’s the only one here.
Mr. Aimes must be having his dinner in the back since he isn’t behind the counter.
This is why she prefers to come at night—she gets the stacks all to herself.
Again, she doesn’t steal and she never would, but she does help herself to the first few chapters of whatever catches her eye. That’s not stealing; that’s making an informed purchase, and with how long it takes to afford a new book, she needs to make sure she’s getting a good one.
Today in particular calls for a very special book.
It’s the ten-year anniversary of her mother’s passing, and she doesn’t want to think about it at all.
She needs something that will distract her from the grief, and from the knowledge that she’s fated to live her mother’s life and die her mother’s death—soon to be passed on from a father who hates her to a husband who hates her more, until death mercifully does them part.
She’s reading about the legendary constellations of Andromeda and Perseus when an old white-haired woman appears behind the counter and says, “Can I help you find something?”
Claudia snaps the book shut and looks up at this stranger. The woman is wrapped in a light pink shawl that accentuates the bulging hunch of her spine. She gives Claudia a thin smile.
“Where’s Mr. Aimes?” Claudia asks.
“Oh dear, you haven’t heard.” She tilts her head to the side with a sad, slanted pout.
“I’m sorry to tell you this, but my brother died at last week’s end.
I’m Mrs. Schottstaedt and I’m taking over until we can find someone to buy the place.
” The old woman wipes her hand across the counter and sends a flurry of dust into the air.
“This store is in such a state. He must’ve been struggling for some time. ”
“Oh,” Claudia says sympathetically, though it’s hardly a shock. Mr. Aimes had been old as sin. “I’m so sorry.”
Mrs. Schottstaedt waves away Claudia’s condolences. “We all have to die, dear. It’s written in all of our stars. Speaking of…” She raises her brows and gestures to the book of constellations in Claudia’s hands. “Did you want to buy that?”
She already knows she can’t afford this one.
She’s been sneaking in its chapters during every visit and doing her best to memorize the constellations so she can draw them in her notebook back home.
Obviously, that isn’t stealing, either—it would only be stealing if she traced the pages directly while in the shop.
If she memorizes the content and writes it down later, well…
that’s simply an act of learning, and there’s nothing wrong with that.
It’s a good thing, actually. A noble and admirable deed.
“I’m still looking.” She turns to tuck the book back into its place, but there’s a little black book there instead, its spine thin as her pinky finger.
At first glance, it’s nothing special, but Claudia is drawn to it.
More than that—compelled. When she picks it up, she can’t explain how right it feels.
She just knows that this book was meant for her hand.
There is a faded silver swan on the cover and nothing else. She turns to the first page, where CYGNUS UNIVERSITY is written in fine script. Below reads:
An occult institution where desire becomes magic.
Every paragon of academic and artistic achievement is not a man, but a mage. Not a woman, but a witch. What the world calls genius is merely magic in disguise, and if you are reading this, you are ready to wield it.
The next page lists the disciplines taught at Cygnus:
ASTROLOGIA: Ruled by Sidarphion, God of Stars and Nightmares
MATHEMATICA: Ruled by Caedisterra, God of Blood and Balance
MUSICES: Ruled by Dolericym, God of Song and Sorrow
RHETORIC: Ruled by Malevimus, God of Wit and Secrets
SCIENTIA: Ruled by Orteslux, God of Death and Flowers
The Astrologia section begins on the next page.
Students of Astrologia seek to understand the influence of celestial bodies on terrestrial events.
Through our Hermetic approach, you will learn the divine order of the cosmos and engage in theurgic communication with your patron, Sidarphion, God of Stars and Nightmares.
Upon graduation, you will have the power and knowledge to divine and define fate itself.
You will become one of the greatest astrologers of all time.
A sharp breath escapes her.
When Claudia was twelve, her mother got sick. Not long before her mother died, Claudia looked out her window in the middle of the night and saw her standing in front of their home. Little Claudia ran down the stairs, out the door, and to her mother’s side.
“Momma?”
“Two months,” her mother said while she gazed up at the starry sky. “I have two months left, Starling.”
“The doctor said you’re getting better,” Claudia assured.
“No.” Her mother’s voice was slow and dreamy. “It’s written in the stars.”
Claudia dragged her mother back inside and wrote the incident off as some fevered delusion, but sure enough, two months later, she and her father were burying her.
Since then, Claudia has been chasing answers.
What did her mother see that night in the stars?
And if Claudia had believed her, could she have done something to save her mother’s life?
Ten years later and she still doesn’t know.
As she reads, she feels the heavy glare of the old woman. Sensing she needs to make a purchase, she looks for the price of the book in its usual spot—penciled in the upper right-hand corner—but it’s blank.
“How much for this one? There’s no price inside.”
“Hm. Bring it here.”
Claudia walks the thin space between shelves and stops before the counter, handing over the little black book.
Immediately, she wants it back. That book is meant to be hers.
She hates every second that it’s not in her hands.
The old woman holds her tiny spectacles far away from her face while she examines it.
She grunts and turns the book upside down as if she can shake answers out of it.
“Mr. Aimes would’ve probably charged a penny or two for a book like that,” Claudia says. More like four or five pennies, but in Claudia’s defense, she used the word probably. It’s not a lie; it’s probable.
“Well, Mr. Aimes is not here.”
“Right.” Claudia tucks her chin and looks down at her black shoes. “I’m terribly sorry about your brother, Mrs. Schottstaedt. He was a lovely man.”
“You don’t have to lie, dear. He was a curmudgeon by the age of ten, but we loved him anyway.”
Claudia gives her a soft smile. “Well, curmudgeon or not, he ran this shop, which is my favorite place in the world.”
The old woman laughs and looks around at the dusty, dank store. “If this is your favorite place, you’ve got a whole lot more of the world to see.”