Chapter 11 #2
“We found several,” Jasper said. “There were loose bits in every segment of the book.”
“Excellent.” Tariq beamed. “Which one do you want to use?”
“All of them,” I said.
His eyebrows rose in surprise.
“After looking more closely at it, I suspect this grimoire was bound centuries after the first pages were written,” I explained. “Judging by the difference in the feel of the pages, the ink, and the handwriting, I think these were recipes handed down for generations.”
“I’m sorry, did you say recipes ?” Jasper asked.
“You know what I mean.” I waved a dismissive hand at him, focusing on Tariq, who looked as if he was trying not to smile.
“Spells?” Jasper asked. “Don’t tell me you can’t say the word, Zoe.”
“I can,” I protested. Never mind that hearing him say my name in that deep voice of his with his delicious British accent made my brain fuzzy. I blinked, trying to focus. “I’m just more comfortable not saying it.”
“Why not?” he asked. “It’s a grimoire; that’s what they’re composed of—spells.”
“It makes me uncomfortable.” I knew my expression was pained, as if I was an introvert—not wrong—being forced to participate in a group activity and I just couldn’t bear it—also not wrong. Technically, I could, I supposed, but that didn’t mean I’d enjoy it.
“Why?” Jasper’s eyebrows rose in surprise.
In that moment, I could have told them about the vow I’d made to my mother when I was fourteen, promising I would never practice magic, but the thought of sharing such a personal story made me cringe. I simply wasn’t ready for that yet. Instead, I diverted.
“It’s a long story, but I have a question for you both,” I said.
Jasper inclined his head and Tariq nodded. “Go ahead.”
“Have you ever heard of someone, hypothetically speaking of course, manifesting a visualization?”
Tariq cupped his chin with his hand. “Can you give me an example?”
I drummed my fingers on the steel tabletop as I considered what to say. “What if a person used a relaxing meditation where they pictured their body floating and then, when they opened their eyes, they discovered they were many feet up in the air?”
“You levitated on a simple visualization?” Tariq’s eyes went wide and he dropped his hand from his chin.
“I didn’t say it was me.”
Tariq and Jasper exchanged a look.
“How could that happen to a person who’s never had anything out of the ordinary happen to them before?” I persisted.
“Meaning no previous evidence of any special magical abilities?” Tariq asked.
I nodded. I didn’t include my memories of the things Mamie had taught me, because I honestly didn’t know if those magical moments had been Mamie or me.
“How to explain…” Tariq blew out a breath.
“If you’ll allow me?” Jasper asked.
Tariq waved his hand in acquiescence.
“Simply put,” Jasper said, “it comes down to belief.”
“I’m not following.” I turned toward him, realized we were entirely too close for comfort, and scooted myself back a few inches.
“Think of magic as a living thing,” he said. “All living things need sustenance.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
“Belief is the fuel required for magic to exist.” He tapped the grimoire on the table. “Nothing written in here can manifest unless the witch using it believes it.”
I pondered his words. “You mean magic is like getting gifts from Santa Claus. You have to believe to receive.”
Tariq blinked and then laughed. “You are something, Zoe Ziakas. And yes, it’s exactly like that.”
Jasper huffed a laugh, but then his voice lowered and he said, “It would seem that whoever levitated during a visualization believes.”
Maybe it was my childhood memories being dredged up or the fact that I was in possession of a book that opened all by itself when I bled on it, but yeah, there was no question. I believed. Damn it.
“How long will it take to date the samples?” I asked, wanting to change the subject.
“It’ll take a few hours in the machine for each one.” Tariq lifted the glass vial and studied the bits and pieces inside. “But then I have to do a data analysis, which could get complicated depending on what compounds we discover. I won’t have a comprehensive report for you for a couple of days.”
I sighed. I was not the most patient person and waiting a few days for an analysis of the grimoire was frustrating because there was nothing I could do—no research rabbit hole to jump in—to move it along.
“Come on, then.” Jasper nudged me with his elbow. “I want to show you something.”
I glanced at the volume on the table. Should I leave it here? Take it with me? If I left the room, would I get a vicious headache and black out again?
“No one will touch the book,” Tariq promised. “You can leave it in my care.”
“All right.” I stepped back from the table and the cover of the book slammed shut, making me jump. The metal bands locked into place in the hexagon as if the book were an old lady, primly tightening the belt on her bathrobe. Well, hell, what did that mean?
I glanced at Tariq and Jasper. They wore matching expressions of surprise. I was glad it wasn’t just me. I cleared my throat and leaned down over the book. There was no way I could mask the awkwardness in my voice when I said, “I’ll be right back. You don’t have to blast me with a headache, okay?”
The latch on the book didn’t move and I couldn’t feel any emotion coming from it. Of course, it wasn’t as if I expected it to do anything, but I suddenly appreciated the clear communication that came from Freya the cat-book or book-cat, however it identified itself. I hesitated.
Tariq met my gaze across the table. “You won’t know unless you go.”
I leaned down again. “I’ll only be a minute. Seriously, you won’t even miss me.”
Again I felt nothing. Wait. That was exactly what I felt. Nothing. But not the nothing of no feeling; rather, it was the nothing from being shut out.
Straightening up, I said, “I think it’s shunning me.”
“Meaning you can go, but it’s going to sulk when you return,” Jasper said. “Sounds like a woman I once dated.”
Tariq laughed, but I was a bit too freaked-out to find humor in the fact that I was talking to a book, having a sort of relationship with a book that went beyond reading it. This was bizarre on so many levels.
Jasper turned on his heel and led the way to the door. I glanced at Tariq, who made a shooing gesture with his hand. “Go. It’ll be fine.”
I turned and followed the well-muscled Brit, half expecting to be struck by cranial pain at any moment, but nothing happened. We stepped through the door into the main BODO library and I paused. I was fine. No headache. No blackout. It felt like a win.
Jasper was striding across the room toward one of the spiral staircases. I hurried after him, wondering what he could possibly plan to show me that would rival a book that had just shut and locked itself.
There were three stories in the BODO library and when we reached the top one, I found I was winded.
Exercise had never been high on my list of priorities.
Given the choice between jogging several miles or reading half a book, I’d choose the book every time.
I realized I was going to have to recalibrate my thinking.
If I had to climb these stairs every day while I worked on deciphering the book, I was going to get into shape whether I liked it or not.
“All right?” Jasper asked.
“Fine,” I fibbed. I could hear the rasping of my breath in the stillness of the library and I attempted to stifle it, taking smaller, shallower breaths and trying to look as if I weren’t about to keel over while I caught my breath.
Jasper’s smile was a slash of white teeth. He was clearly amused by my attempt to hide my lack of fitness. “If you’re going to work here, you’ll likely have to start using the gym on the premises. Some of our assignments require peak athleticism.”
“I’m not going to work here.” I shook my head. “This is a temporary job swap until I can figure out what happened to my mother and grandmother, decode the book, and send Eloise on.”
“Why temporary?” he asked. “Why don’t you want to work here?”
Good question. It was getting harder to answer with each passing day, so I went for the simple nonanswer. “It’s complicated.”
“So you’ve mentioned.” He raised one eyebrow, inviting me to share more. I didn’t.
“You wanted to show me something?”
“Quite right.” He turned away, filling my vision with his broad shoulders, slim waist, and— I forced my gaze away. Just because they didn’t grow them like this back at my public library didn’t mean I had an excuse to ogle.
He turned in to one of the many alcoves made by the bookcases. “Miles filled me in on the theory about your grandmother being born into the famous Donadieu coven in France. I thought this section might be of interest to you.”
He gestured to the shelf that was at eye level. My gaze narrowed. “These books are in French.”
“Précisément.” He bowed his head and I suspected he was testing me to see if I read French, which of course I did.
I turned and scanned the spines of the books. They reminded me of the grimoire I had left with Tariq, minus the metal bands and funky lock. I pulled one from the shelf. It was old and handwritten. There was a date at the top in the European style of day, month, year, with the month spelled out.
I scanned a random passage. My French was rusty but not so much that I didn’t know what I was reading. I turned to Jasper and asked, “Was there a specific reason you felt I needed to research spells to enhance a man’s virility?”