Chapter 4
ANCIENT MAGIC AND DANGEROUS TRUTHS
brANDON
Brandon’s attention drifted again to the front window and the tree-lined street beyond, searching for a glimpse of moonlight-colored hair and hazel-green eyes.
Jessie had texted him to let him know that Muriel had arrived in Mythic and planned on stopping by the shop today, but not when. He hoped it was sooner rather than later. The need to see her, to see with his own eyes that she was safe, was stretching into year-long minutes.
He lit another soy candle and adjusted the display of crystals around the fountain, then performed a cursory check of the multitude of planters and hanging baskets he’d recently acquired.
Anticipation of Muriel’s visit and anxiety over what she might be facing had him on edge.
He'd gotten perhaps two hours of sleep, and those had been fitful at best, plagued by fragmented dreams and gnawing worry.
The rest of the night he'd spent in his private library, surrounded by stacks of ancient texts and grimoires, searching for reliable information about the Codex Animarum.
Just like his great-whatever grandfather had so many years ago. And, like his ancestor, he found only legends and myths, nothing concrete.
Brandon's gaze drifted to the leather journal on the counter, its pages filled with the notes he'd scrawled in the pre-dawn hours. If even half of what he'd pieced together was true, and if the grimoire was actually in Muriel’s possession, she was in grave danger.
The Codex Animarum wasn't just a powerful artifact. It was the artifact, a source of ancient Druidic earth magic written in blood and passed down through maternal lines. Its protective wards made it impossible to find or wield by anyone other than its appointed guardians.
Which meant it was only useful if the witch to whom it had been passed came with it.
In the hands of a powerful elemental like Muriel, it was the equivalent of the Holy Grail being held by Jesus himself.
If the Collectors suspected it had resurfaced as Jason’s intel suggested, then they would stop at nothing to claim it and Muriel. The one who controlled Muriel could control—well, everything.
His magic stirred restlessly, a spike of protectiveness that rose at the thought.
It was more than simply concern for the magical world as a whole, and more than garden-variety attraction.
Sure, he'd felt drawn to Muriel from the moment he’d felt her magic on that amulet she’d spelled for Jessie, but this was different.
This was sharper. More urgent. More… primal.
Which was both inconvenient and potentially disastrous, given her determination to keep him at arm’s length. He got it. She didn’t trust mages. But in this case, her survival might depend on it.
The energy in the air shifted suddenly. Brandon glanced up and—promptly stilled.
Muriel stood just inside the doorway, sunlight streaming through the windows and catching in her silvery blonde hair. She wore a deep green dress that made her eyes look like polished amber and priceless emeralds.
She looked terrified.
And utterly captivating.
Their eyes met and for a heartbeat, neither of them moved.
The air between them thrummed with energy. Judging by her quick intake of breath, she felt it too.
The decorative planters flanking the bookstore's entrance confirmed that theory, bursting into riotous bloom. She dropped her gaze, even as a lovely red flush crept up her neck.
Her hands clutched the strap of a leather satchel with white-knuckled intensity, and that’s when he noticed the subtle shimmer around it, like heat rising above a hot summer pavement.
The distortion was faint enough that most people wouldn’t notice, but he was at a higher level than most. Was that the Codex? Was she carrying it around with her?
“Muriel.” He kept his voice gentle, welcoming, as he moved out from behind the counter.
“I...” She swallowed, visibly gathering herself. “Hi.”
The single word, breathless and uncertain, squeezed his heart.
“Jessie said you might be stopping by. Would you like some tea?” He gestured toward the back of the shop, where a small seating area held comfortable chairs and a table.
“I have several varieties. Chamomile, peppermint, lemon balm, ginger.
.. I think there's still some jasmine green if you prefer that.”
“Chamomile would be lovely,” she said. “How did you know I like tea?”
“Haven’t met a witch yet who doesn’t,” he said with a casual curve of his lips. It was certainly better than admitting Jessie had voluntarily provided inside info. The she-wolf made no secret of wanting to improve his chances with her friend, and he was glad for it.
While the tea steeped, he gave Muriel time to look around, watching from the corner of his eye as she took in the many shelves of books and magical artifacts, as well as the greenery he’d scattered throughout.
“This place is amazing,” she said softly, running her fingers along a particularly ornate wand. The polished amber swirled and glowed under her gentle touch. “Why is it doing that?”
“It’s responding to your magic.”
“Oh.” She glanced around the shop, biting her bottom lip. “Is everything in here… magical?”
“Pretty much, though all things hold the potential for magic. The challenge is getting them into the right hands.”
“Is that why you sent me the Liber Terrae?”
He pulled out a chair for her, then moved to the other side of the table. “Yes. Did you like it?”
She settled into the chair, the satchel perched snugly at her side. “Yes, very much.” She met his eyes. “But I can't keep it. It's too valuable.”
Brandon took the chair across from her and poured them each a cup. Then he leaned back and regarded her. “That book deserves to be in the hands of someone who'll use it, not gathering dust on a shelf.”
“But it’s—”
“Muriel.” He kept his voice gentle but firm. “It’s a gift. Simple as that. No strings, no expectations.”
She stared at him for a long moment, and he could practically see her trying to find an angle. When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter. “Why?”
“Because you're one of the most naturally gifted earth witches I've ever encountered,” he answered honestly. “I can’t think of a better steward.”
A faint flush crept up her neck. “I... thank you.”
He smiled, genuinely pleased. “You’re welcome.”
She picked up her teacup again, and a fragile silence stretched between them while she summoned the courage to broach the real reason for her visit. He didn’t mind. Now that she was here, he could be patient.
“Can I ask you something?” she said finally.
“Anything,” he said.
“What do you know about magical surges? In witches, I mean.”
“It's not uncommon to those magic-born,” he said, keeping his tone conversational. “Especially during transitional periods.”
“Did you experience them?”
“Oh, yes. Embarrassingly so.” His lips quirked with the memories.
“Is it, uh, normal for them to get worse before they get better? Stronger? More frequent?”
“Perfectly normal. It means the witch is approaching a significant threshold of power. Although they can also arise from proximity to a particularly powerful artifact.” He set down his teacup and gave her his full attention. “May I ask—are we talking hypothetically here?”
She glanced guiltily toward the front of the store and the flowering trees and potted plants in lush, full bloom. “No, not hypothetically.”
Brandon nodded slowly. Once again, Jason’s sources had been spot on. “How long has this been happening?”
“A while. It's gotten worse in the last few days.” She hesitated, then added quietly, “I can't seem to control it anymore. When I feel something strongly—fear, anger, even...” She trailed off, color rising in her cheeks again.
Even attraction, Brandon thought with a spark of pleasure. Muriel found him attractive, and that was manifesting. This was Magic 101, something most practitioners learned early on. Had she not been taught even the basics?
What he said was, “Also normal. Our magic is often influenced by our emotions.”
“That makes sense,” she said, the relief in her voice obvious. “It’s just… I've always been able to manage my magic before.”
“Surges tend to manifest during times of great stress, or when we encounter a situation that challenges us and requires us to level up, so to speak. Have you experienced anything like that recently?”
Wariness flickered across her face. She studied him for a long moment, those jeweled green eyes searching his face for... what? Signs of deception? Hidden motives?
“A few nights ago,” she said finally. “I found something. Something my mother had hidden.”
Brandon's pulse quickened, but he kept his expression calm and mildly curious. He definitely did not glance at the satchel beside her, now quivering with symbiotic energy. It was reacting to her discomfort, which meant it had already formed a bond with her. “What kind of something?”
“A book. An old one.” She set down her teacup, her hands trembling. “When I opened it, it showed me things. Visions. Women who looked like me, being hunted. Tortured.” Her voice caught.
Inside his chest, his heart beat faster. A hidden book, passed from mother to daughter, revealing visions of bloodline persecution. All things that pointed to the re-appearance of the Codex.
It was on the tip of his tongue to ask to see it, but he decided against it—for now.
Muriel's fear was already manifesting around them.
The potted fern on the nearby shelf had doubled in size, its fronds unfurling with unnatural speed and then promptly shriveling to brown husks.
The wooden floor beneath their feet creaked. Even the tea in their cups rippled.
“You’re describing an incredibly powerful artifact,” he said, keeping his voice steady and reassuring. “Do you know what it is?”
“No,” she said, fear and frustration edging her voice. “I was hoping you might have an idea.”
“I might, but I’ll need more to go on than that,” he said honestly.