14. Yellow Topaz
Yellow Topaz
M y knees threatened to buckle as all my strength went to gripping the book hard, tight, and close to me.
I read the line again and again, my mind fighting to understand what my heart already knew. I knew the writing without question. I recognized the swirls and curls and slant. I knew the timelessness of it as it appeared almost lackadaisically, as if it was a girl writing in her diary at night or doodling time away in class. She always used to write like that, like she had all the time in the world. I remembered all the times I would look over her shoulder to watch her write comments while grading papers or notes for me to take to school.
It was my mom.
It was my mother’s handwriting, her words.
It was written by my mother to me .
“Bee? Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
My voice was barely above a whisper. “There’s writing on one of the pages… It-it’s my mom’s.”
I tilted the book to show both her and Maisie the sentence still written there, but I could not take my eyes off the writing. I was scared that if I did, it would disappear.
“Are you sure it’s your mom’s? I mean, it can’t be, right? It’s not possible,” Simone asked, staring at the page.
I shifted the book in my arms and rolled up my right sleeve to show my wrist right next to the page.
Tattooed there was Love you more, my baby Byrd in the same floral cursive as what was written with a heart drawn around the words. It was how my mom had signed every birthday card she had ever given me. Everett had let me get it when I was sixteen as my first tattoo, one of many for my mom and Pops. I got it on my wrist so I would always wear that part of my heart on my sleeve for the world to see.
“I’m positive it’s hers. Look at the way that baby Byrd is written. It’s the exact same. Only my mom can write like that. It’s her. It has to be.”
“But that’s impossible,” Maisie said, barely above a whisper herself but in pure disbelief as she looked between my tattoo and the book.
She was right. It should be impossible. Magic in our world made almost anything possible, but the emphasis is on almost . Magic could not make you fall in love with somebody—it could make you fall in lust but not love. Magic could not make you go against your own will and do something you weren’t going to do already. If you were cut by a knife, magic couldn’t make you think you were shot, but it could make you think you were cut by paper or a branch instead. Magic had rules, and this was the most serious one: magic could not bring back the dead in any capacity. So, how was this possible? How was my mom able to talk to me when she had been dead for fourteen years?
“Are we sure this book isn’t cursed?” Simone asked.
“Curses and hexes don’t work like this.” Maisie shook her head. “They both have clear signs of their existence and clear ways to break them. A curse has to state what it is, what caused it, and how to break it, even if it is a riddle or something. It has some sign of its existence like a smell or magic coming off it or something. A hex functions the same way. You can see it. Or at least I always can. They don’t just make things appear . This is something else entirely.”
“So, if it isn’t cursed or hexed, what does that mean? What is it then? I mean, it’s obviously connected to Byrd since only she can open the book and it has her family tree in it and her mom’s writing. But she’s human, so how is any of this possible—” Simone rambled on as she often did when she was thinking things out.
Maisie held her hands out. “Bee, do you mind if I take a look at the book?”
“Oh, yeah, of course.” I passed the book over to her without a second thought. As the book left my arms, my necklace cooled, and the cold returned to gnaw at me. The book had felt at home in my arms, and I found myself missing it and wishing I had never let it go. First, Everett. Next, it only opening for me. Then it having my family tree and that sentence from my mom. Now, this weird protective feeling? What’s up with this freaking book?
Maisie turned the pages. As she did, Simone asked. “Did you see any other writing in the book, Byrd?”
“I mean, yes and no. There’s indents on the page. It’s almost like someone wrote on the paper or like they erased what they put on there? I’m not sure.”
“That’s so strange!”
“Not as strange as this,” Maisie said, stopping at the end of the book. There, the inside was covered with the most complex runes I had ever seen.
At their heart, runes were spells for objects. They were usually simple symbols carved or written by witches onto things to make them do certain tasks. Things from towels to mugs to technology to buildings to whatever else were mass-magicked with runes so that Cleo could interact with them and move them to and fro. Although I wasn’t a witch and Maisie was sure to have already seen more runes than I would in my lifetime, I had seen my fair share at work at the Archive, since it ran off of them. But those runes were simple and benign. They usually had a few lines making a distinct but small symbol, and they were the size of a normal house key. They only served a few boring purposes to make the library more efficient. Every book, along with all the technology and furniture, had at least a couple that I had to wave my hand over to make do their job.
The rune in the back of this book was nothing like that.
This rune was massive . It spread across the whole back cover from one end to the other with more lines criss-crossing together than I could even follow. The entire rune was an incredibly intricate pattern of lines, dots, and geometric shapes. Small symbols from an ancient language filled the gaps in the overall rune, and those looked closer to the runes I was used to. Still, they were more detailed than anything I had ever seen. Runes within runes, it looked like someone had added extra notes in to add to the spell. As complex as it was, there was some strange beauty in its chaos. It was as breathtaking as it was confusing. There was also power in its secrets.
“This is insane. I have never seen runes this old and complicated before. This looks to have been written by multiple witches before, but they are so insanely intricate I can’t figure out what they can do or which rune is from which witch or… anything, honestly,” Maisie said, her eyes scanning to try to comprehend what she was looking at.
“Runes are supposed to be like a witch’s signature in a way, right? They work like a doctor’s signature on a prescription?” I asked.
Maisie nodded. “Exactly. Usually, when you look at a rune, you can tell who the witch might have been who cast the spell, as well as what kind of spell was cast. When I look at a rune, I can tell you exactly who the witch was and what the spell is doing. And that’s before I use my magic to get more details.”
“Oh, this is why your doctorate witchmates can’t stand you,” Simone teased.
Maisie shrugged. “Not my fault I’m a magical prodigy and the baddest witch in the program. Can’t see how you can hate outside the club when you can’t even get in.”
“So, can you use your magic to get more details about this book? Maybe if we find who casted the spell on it or what these runes do?—”
“We can find out what it has to do with me and my mom,” I finished Simone’s thoughts. Something fluttered in my chest, full of hope.
“There is a spell I can use for it alongside my magic for it, yes,” Maisie exhaled. She placed a hand over the runes and closed her eyes.
Simone and I watched her quietly for a few moments. Then Simone leaned over Maisie’s front to whisper to me. “Why isn’t she saying anything or doing any fancy witchy things?”
Maisie’s lips quirked up into a smirk. “You have seen Practical Magic too many times, Sea. Witches don’t have to do that to cast spells. We just need to summon our magic and say the words and intent in our heads. Now, shh, I need to concentrate.”
The three of us fell silent then as we waited.
And waited some more.
And waited more still.
We waited until I had to release the breath I didn’t even know I was holding in anticipation. We waited until I tightened my grip on the blanket still wrapped around my shoulders to stave off the cold trying to settle within me again. We waited until Simone shifted on her feet from standing so long. We waited until Simone started pulling at a loose thread on her tank. We waited until worry became a pit in my stomach.
Suddenly, Maisie gasped. Her eyes scrunched up, and she almost bent in half. Her grip on the book tightened, but her hand on the inside cover looked like it was clawing at it, clutching or trying to grasp something. Her nose began to bleed. Bloody tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. My stomach sank. I wanted to throw up and cry all at once.
“Maisie? Maisie, what’s wrong?” I cried out for her, but I only received more bloody tears and gasps of pain from her.
“What’s going on with her? I’ve never seen her react like this while doing a spell!” Simone’s eyes were the widest I’ve ever seen them, her hand covering her mouth.
“Neither have I. Maisie, are you okay? Can you hear me at all?” I begged her. With my words failing, I went to touch her arm, to bring her back to us from wherever she was. I immediately had to pull my head back and hissed at the stinging pain I felt on my hand. My hands swelled with blisters and blood as if I had touched a hot stove.
“Byrd! ” Simone rushed over to my side. She motioned her hand toward the open bathroom door. I heard the sink faucet turn on and water came rushing from there into the bedroom just shy of where we stood. She swirled her hands over mine so the cool water engulfed them, taking some of the painful edge off instantly. She hovered her hands over the water, making it glow bright and aquamarine. As it did glow, it was like time reversing backwards as my hands returned to normal, like nothing had happened. In no time at all, my hands were fully healed, albeit wet. Simone sent the water back to the sink basin to go down the drain, and she held the back of my hands while we both saw how her magic had worked.
“I always forget how cool that power is. Thank you,” I said.
She gently smiled at me before turning back to Maisie. “I can’t believe she did that to you. What’s happening to her?”
“I don’t think it was on purpose. Whatever is happening to her did this.”
Simone squeezed my hands. “I’m worried about her, Bee. What do we do?”
I shook my head. I wasn’t sure what to even suggest. She couldn’t hear us calling for her. We couldn’t touch her without getting hurt. The blood from her eyes were forming streaks going down her cheeks. She wasn’t coming out of this. We wouldn’t be able to pull her out of this.
Something was beyond wrong.
Maisie dropped the book, and it bounced onto Everett’s bed. Closed shut.
Then Maisie fell to the ground.
Her body convulsed on the floor. Purple smoke formed from nowhere to take over the floor everywhere, except for in a circle around Maisie. Her body floated up to our eye level. Candles lit up throughout the room. A wind picked up, blowing my and Simone’s hair back behind us. Suddenly, a bright light blasted out from Maisie. I had to squint to see past it, but from what I could see, something appeared to be growing from Maisie’s back. They were purple, just like Maisie’s eyes, and like a design made of neon light, like a street sign. They looked like…
Moth wings?
Just as quickly as it all transpired, the light dissipated along with the smoke into nothingness. The candles went out. Maisie fell back to the ground then.
Hard as fuck.
Silence fell on us again for a beat.
“What the hell just happened?” Simone asked, her hands shaking as they still gripped my own. I squeezed her hands before pulling her down with me to Maisie’s side on the floor.
“Maisie? Maisie, can you hear us?” I asked, touching her shoulder to test that it was safe to do so this time. When I realized it was, I tried to shake her awake. Maisie didn’t stir. Her breathing was shallow, slow, soft, and barely there.
Too quiet. It’s too quiet.
I was on my feet in an instant, rushing to the kitchen. I snatched open a drawer to find my organizer full of essential oils. There were at least a hundred glass bottles stored there with colorful labels on top of their lids to identify what they were. I closed my eyes, trying to remember all the times Auntie Max’s light brown hands picked up a similar dark brown bottle, and she listed what the oil inside was good for. My eyes snapped open. I pulled out three bottles: jasmine, citrus, and peppermint. I quickly grabbed a shot glass from a cabinet and poured a few drops of each inside. The smell of them all combined was enough to make my eyes water.
Auntie Max would be proud. She had taught me well.
I picked up the shot glass and hurried back to Everett’s room. I sat on the floor and lifted Maisie’s head onto my lap to prop it up. I swirled the shot glass underneath Maisie’s nose to encourage her to breathe it in. I counted her breaths as I waited for any sign for her condition to change. One. Two. Three. Four. Just when my heart was beginning to sink, Maisie gasped, taking a deep breath in. Her eyes fluttered. She was awake. Finally . I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Hey, kiddos! I’m back—” Uncle Everett entered then, leaning against the door. He looked like he was back to normal now, no more glazed look in his eyes. I turned around as he took in the scene before him. “Everything okay?”
I opened my mouth to answer him, but Maisie stirred fully and cleared her throat from my lap. “We’re fine, Everett, but we could really use that coffee.”
Everett raised an eyebrow. “Are y’all doing that Craft bullshit again?”
Maisie took my hand in hers and squeezed tightly as if sending me a silent message. I returned her squeeze and caught on. “Yep, we definitely need that coffee though! You always make it the best.”
Everett smiled. “Okay, okay, you’ve really twisted my arm about it. Coming right up!”
He left then to go to the kitchen. I turned back to my best friend, resting her head in my lap. There was dried blood on her cheeks and below her nose. There’s a drying sheen of sweat on her forehead from the whole ordeal, strands of her brown and silver hair stuck there. Seeing the same best friend who would snort when she laughed too hard and hid her tears when she read her sad romance novels that I refused to read, no matter how much she begged looking like this… The scene made my heart break. I could cry. I affectionately pushed the hair away from her forehead. “Maisie! Are you okay?”
“Gods, Maisie, we were so scared. Are you all right?” Simone said, her tears spilling over.
Maisie shook her head. She cleared her throat again. “Can you help me up?”
With a groan from Maisie, Simone and I helped to push her to sitting up. Simone motioned to the bathroom again, and I heard the sink faucet run once more. This time, instead of water coming out from the bathroom like a snake, a damp washcloth flew through the air and into my hand. I gave Maisie a look, and she nodded. I gently started wiping the blood away from her face.
We were quiet for a while. When I finished and her face was clean, I softly asked. “What happened to you, Maisie?”
Maisie shrugged, her eyes weary, tired, and worn down. “It’s hard to explain. I don’t remember or understand a lot of it, to be honest. It was kind of like I was having an out-of-body experience. I didn’t feel the pain I thought I should. I didn’t feel anything. All I remember is a dream where I’m in a field full of, like, these deep burgundy snapdragons. I was alone there, but I remember feeling like there was someone—some thing —nearby. I felt connected to it, safe by its presence, but I had no idea where or what it was. I don’t know if that made any sense whatsoever. It didn’t make sense to me when I was there, to be fair.”
“Gods, this is all so weird. What’s going on?” Simone questioned.
“I don’t know, but,” I stood. “We are going to find out.”
“ I will literally pay you both to leave me alone and stop asking me if I’m okay,” Maisie said, giving us a raised eyebrow before returning the chilled beer can she got from the fridge to her head to continue nursing her headache.
“Sorry! You went full Exorcism on us, so we just want to make sure you’re not dying or anything!” Simone said.
“Especially when one of us caused you to have whatever that possession was,” I mumbled before taking a sip from my coffee.
“I already said that you had no idea I would react that way from trying to access that rune and get more information, Byrd. It’s not at all your fault.”
It didn’t make me feel any less guilty, though.
The three of us leaned on the kitchen island. Fresh, hot cups of coffee made by Uncle Everett sat in front of each of us. Everett had returned to his bedroom to continue packing his donations and organizing what remained to give Thompson space to move in without moving in. He was thankfully back to his normal self for the most part. But the book was still having some kind of an effect on him. When we left his room to enjoy our coffees in the kitchen, I went back to grab the book from his bed, not being able to part with it for long. Everett’s eyes went distant again as he glanced at what I was grabbing—or, more so, glanced through it. Losing him even for a few seconds made my stomach churn with worry. Uncle Everett and I had been through everything together. He was my only constant and sense of stability for a really long time. And now, a book was making him act like a complete zombie and turned Maisie into something from a scary movie. But that same book might be a chance for me to connect with my mom in some way. How was this possible? Why was this book doing this? Was all of this worth hurting those closest to me or seeing them so affected? Should I really be trusting it at all?
Trust it. It’s yours.
Oh, and we cannot forget this voice now. Where had I heard it? When had I heard it? Was I going crazy? What was going on?—?
Suddenly, one of my sweatpants pockets vibrated against my thigh, interrupting my spiral. My hand shook as I pulled my phone out.
QUEENIE ??
Looks like you aren’t the only one feeling nostalgic today. I’m always down to show off how I was the most perfect, cutest little sugarloaf. Those are my mom’s words, not mine btw, but she’s not wrong ??.
My spiral halted almost instantly, seeing her name and words appear on my screen. Talking to Quinn calmed and excited me immediately. Just then, a picture moved her text higher on my screen. It was younger Quinn standing in a partial curtsy in front of a colorful backdrop that screamed 90s. She was in a yellow dinosaur costume that I recognized as BJ from Barney & Friends . Her gap-toothed smile made my heart melt from the cuteness. Another popped up under that one with Quinn in a burgundy red dress with white lace detail. Her wild curls were in a high ponytail with a matching lace bow and she held a present in her hand as she sat in front of a Christmas tree.
QUEENIE ??
I’m so happy my mom got putting me in dresses out of her system. I freaking hate them now.
QUEENIE ??
Okay, this one alone makes me wonder how no one in my family knew I was gay until I came out.
I chuckled as I looked at the last photo. Little Quinn stood on a park bench somewhere. She was in a Chicago Bulls hat, matching shirt, blue shorts, and a pair of sneakers. She was so stinking adorable. I replied:
ME
You are freaking cute AF. How old are you in these?
QUEENIE ??
Maybe about three or four?
My jaw dropped before I replied:
ME
Excuse me, ma’am. But you look like you are at least seven in these.
QUEENIE ??
I was tall as shit as a kid, okay? ??
ME
I’ll say. Over here being scouted by the WNBA at two. ??
QUEENIE ??
Lmao, I freaking wish. Anyway, any luck there in your research, baby girl?
ME
It’s not going the best it could be.
“Hello? Earth to Byrd!” Simone said.
“I’m so sorry, what?” I looked up from my phone to see her and Maisie looking at me. I felt my cheeks heat up with slight embarrassment.
“You didn’t hear a word we said just now, did you?” Simone asked.
“She was probably too busy giggling about her new girlfriend,” Maisie teased.
“Hey! She isn’t my girlfriend!” My face got even hotter.
“Yeah, yet .” Maisie winked.
I rolled my eyes but smiled. I was glad to see that Maisie was okay enough to joke. “What were you guys talking about?”
“What are we going to do now about the book and the rune?” Simone asked.
“Well, we know that this rune is the reason the book is blank and for whatever happened to Maze earlier. It is probably the reason for why Everett reacts the way he does around the book, too. Maisie, is there another way to get some information about the rune?”
Maisie sipped her coffee as she thought for a moment. “A spell would be the quickest way, but if we could somehow find a similar rune, we could likely find the same information or be able to create a spell to find out who cast the rune.”
Simone nodded. “Cool, cool, cool. So, how do we do that?”
At the same time, Maisie and I shrugged and said “Google it.”
Maisie and I grabbed our coffees to prepare to head into the living room. I shot Quinn a quick follow-up text to what I said earlier:
ME
Actually, we might be changing that. I will talk to you later once I know for sure, babe! ??
QUEENIE ??
Good luck, sweets!
I pocketed my phone and picked up the book. Simone furrowed her brows as she followed us. “Um, excuse me, frans? But how is sifting through human wannabe witches and conspiracy theories about supers going to help us find out anything about this rune?”
“Google and the entire internet were not made for just humans nor are they the only ones who can access it.” Maisie’s magic took hold of her and Simone’s laptop bags to bring them closer to where she sat on one of the couches. “Science and technology have always had a touch of magic to it. So, things like the internet were created with humans and supers in mind. In the beginning, the witches who made it created a backdoor so that other supers could access it without worrying about human interference or curiosity. As long as there’s a rune on the computer, you can access the ‘supernet’ and humans will be none the wiser and think the whole thing was founded by a bunch of regular-degular dudes.”
Simone’s nose wrinkled as she plopped on the couch next to Maisie. “That’s a terrible name.”
“They were magical, powerful, and smart. I didn’t say anything about them being creative and witty.”
“The better question is how did you survive undergrad without using the supernet?” I asked, plucking my laptop to sit on the chaise lounge connected to the same couch as the girls.
“You know how!” Simone playfully slapped my arm. “We were always in the library together! We met there in high school!”
“Yeah, but I worked there. My major was in Folklore and Literature, and my Masters was in Library Science. What’s your excuse?”
“Well, I grew up undersea with no access to technology, so I was sheltered. I also majored in Film and Literature, so I lived in that library! It didn’t help that I was obsessed with books and reading since we don’t have books undersea, either. Moral of the story: I regret nothing. Plus, the Archive has the best cookies.”
“Holy shit, the bistro in there? Did someone make a deal with the demon or take a blood oath? Because those sweets are devilishly good,” Maisie said.
I chuckled. “Not that I know of, but there is a genie who runs the tiny cafe. I’m sure their ability to know everyone’s wishes all the time has something to do with how ridiculously good everything always is. Lucky for us, Journee delivers!”
Simone whooped and pumped her fist in the air. As I pulled out my phone to order, we got to work.
“ I discovered the supernatural internet for the first time tonight, and it has already failed me like my father did. I hate it here.”
We laid in a triangle on the living room floor. There were empty pizza boxes and wing containers stacked all around us. Boxes of still-hot cookies sat in the center above our heads with half-finished bottles of still-chilled milk, Journee’s best work honestly. Our laptops lay abandoned in the center of us, too, their screens dark now, but full of several windows with many tabs open when turned on. Our exhaustion was palpable. We had been looking for hours . Uncle Everett had already left to drop off the donations, had a nice dinner date with Thompson, and returned home to go to bed to get up early for work tomorrow. Where we had started bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and confident, we were now worn down.
“How? How did we not find anything in all the supernet about this rune?” I asked the high-beam ceiling above me. I took a bite of a sugar cookie. I smiled, tasting the sweet, salty doughy warmth that only Journee could create and sustain.
“I truly thought we would have found a rune that looked at least slightly similar to this. But no, nothing. It’s like witches don’t even exist on the supernet,” Maisie lamented.
“We did find some witchy things,” Simone said.
Maisie shook her head. “Yeah, but those were all either simple runes like stuff to clean your house faster, or they were snippets from old grimoires. It’s all useless for us.”
“What’s a grimoire?”
“It’s a collection of family spells and runes, right, Maze?” I answered.
“Exactly. Grimoires are like family cookbooks but for witches. They are just huge books of spells, potions, and runes that a witch or family of witches have created and passed down to their descendants. Some date back centuries and are so famous you can find the whole thing online. But most are personal and kept in the family. Still, witches will use the supernet to troubleshoot spells if they don’t have a witchy family member to help them or if they don’t know how to contact their ancestors.”
“Like Reddit, but for witches and covens?”
Maisie pointed a finger gun at Simone. “Bingo.”
Simone asked “So, do you have a grimoire that we can use or a way to contact your ancestors so we can ask about this rune?”
There was a very, very pregnant pause. I glanced over at her. Maisie was stone-faced next to me. Her lips were in a thin line, and her eyes were straight forward. She was rigid, like a statue. I sat up and put a hand on her shoulder to get her to soften.
“You don’t have to tell us if it’s too much, you know.”
“That isn’t fair. We have all known each other for over a decade. You told us about your parents. Simone told us about her daddy and mommy issues. I shouldn’t keep my bullshit a secret.”
“This isn’t a friendship vending machine, Maisie. It isn’t transactional. You don’t have to tell us about your traumas to get our friendship.”
“Yeah, you can tell us in your own time or not at all. We get it either way,” Simone said, rolling over to drape her arm over Maisie in a hug.
Maisie hugged her back and rested a hand on my own. “No, I want to tell you both. If anyone would understand, it’s you two.”
Maisie sat up, and we all followed her. We sat cross-legged, with Maisie between us. Maisie took a cookie. She nibbled it before sipping her milk. I could tell that she wanted to be nonchalant and take the weight out of the air, make her confession as casual as she always was. But it didn’t work this time. Simone and I knew her too well.
Finally, Maisie sighed. “So, I don’t have a grimoire. I don’t have any connection to my ancestors.”
I waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, I said, “But you are one of the most powerful witches I know?—”
“I am one of the most powerful witches in existence, yes, according to all of my professors, Mom, and Grandmother.” She winked.
I rolled my eyes but smiled. “I thought the most powerful witches had a connection to their ancestors.”
“I did, too. My professors all say the same thing. They believe I’m just a natural prodigy, but I know there’s more to it. There has to be.”
“What do you think it is?” Simone asked.
Maisie shook her head. “Honestly, I have no clue. My father was like most deadbeats. I never knew him. I’ve never met the bastard. I don’t even know his first name. My mother and grandmother refuse to talk about him. They are super weak witches, if I can be honest—that isn’t the insult it sounds like, I promise—but they worry about giving him their energy and power by even talking about him. But to finish my dissertation, I had to learn everything I could. I couldn’t care less about the dickwad, but my whole degree depends on learning about where my magic could come from, so I asked them point blank about him during my trip. They admitted my powerful magic came from my father and that he’s insanely strong. The magic on my mother’s side had been weakening for generations with the most substantial being my great-great-great grandmother. We don’t even know what type of witches we are because the power is too thin. But that’s all they said. They shut down after that. He left me nothing. No notes. No letters. Definitely no grimoire from him, but my mom’s side doesn’t have one either since their magic has been dying for so long. It’s beyond infuriating.
So, here I am: A liar to my professors who think I’m so great and powerful. I’m a witch with no history. I’m a freak of my own kind.”
Maisie sniffled, tears making her eyes glisten. I knew they were more tears of frustration than sadness.
Simone held out her hand. “Well, you are among friends.”
I nodded and held out my hand, too. I knew exactly how she was feeling, what Maisie was going through. I had no idea about my own mother and father. I had so few things from my mother, and now, I remembered even less of her. I only have a vague idea of what her laugh and voice sounded like. I don’t even truly remember what she looked like or her mannerisms. But I didn’t have anything from before me. I didn’t know anything about her life in college, about her childhood, about who she once was. I mean, I was a human whose uncle was a griffin-shifter and whose best friends were a witch and a mermaid princess. Add to it all this book that only I could open, my hair growing in pink, and my scars that my crush saw as tattoos, it was easy to see that we really were all freaks here.
But that was okay.
Maisie smiled at us. She took our hands and squeezed.
“So. The supernet was a bust, and I’m a faulty witch without a grimoire.”
“You are not a faulty witch!” Simone and I cried out at the same time.
Maisie laughed. “Okay, okay! But where do we go from here? Where else can we find information on runes that the supernatural internet couldn’t provide?”
Simone and I made eye contact at the same time with smiles wide. “The Archive!”
I palmed my forehead. “Gods, why didn’t I think of this before?! They have all sorts of books on runes and witchcraft that make the supernet look like a kindergarten library.”
“Oh, my goddess, why didn’t you think of this before?” Maisie raised her eyebrow at me.
“It’s been a long day to be fair.” I shook my head. “I’m not at one-hundred percent.”
I pulled out my phone to check the time. It was late in the evening, a little past nine. Simone and Maisie made plans to come to work with me when I go in on Monday, the day after tomorrow. I was beyond excited, and I almost suggested going in right then since the Archive was open twenty-four hours. But I had a strict personal rule—thanks to my therapist and her encouragement of healthy boundaries—against going into work when I wasn’t scheduled for a shift. Plus, my weekend replacements were an obnoxious banshee whose voice was so annoying I wanted to literally glue her wide mouth shut, and the owl-shifter Night Manager this shift was a bitch who thought he was the smartest one in the room. They were to be avoided as much as possible.
With plans arranged, Maze reached for another cookie and said between bites. “Enough of this sad and mystery shit! This is supposed to be a fun adult sleepover, not a middle school pajama party or Nancy Drew Club.”
“Uh, I don’t know about you and the sleepovers you’ve been to without us, but sad shit is a mandatory part of a sleepover and something always happens that carries over long past the sleepover.”
“Simone’s right,” I nodded, grabbing another cookie myself. “It’s in the sacred slumber party book of laws.”
Maisie chuckled, shaking her head. “In that case, let’s get some booze then and catch up on some trashy TV.”
“Here, here!” Simone and I cheered as Maisie turned on the TV to ANTM . It felt like we were back on our usual sleepover shit as soon as it loaded, just like we were teenagers during easier times when we were only stressed about crushes, finishing a project in time, and reading before the next book in a series or its movie adaption came out.
I glanced at the book sitting beside me, the models and judges the only light in the room for me to see. I could still easily make out those golden lines, the colorful gems, and the lapis lazuli lock. I could almost feel it more than see it.
Despite all the layers of blankets, the soft humming warmth still present in my necklace, and my sweatsuit, a chill shivered through me.