42. Lights Out
FORTY-TWO
LIGHTS OUT
The phrase “just the tip of the iceberg” reminds us that much lies hidden beneath the surface.
Though science and effort can sometimes reveal these mysteries, the journey stirs emotions—fear, curiosity, wonder.
As disciples of Magical Naturalism, we embrace these unknowns, understanding that not every iceberg can be fully measured. Instead, we explore with open minds, always marveling at the magic and mystery that awaits discovery.
–EXCERPT FROM THE MUDPUDDLE MANUAL OF NATURAL MAGIC
Maida couldn’t stand simply sitting there, waiting for news. She paced from the cafe to the checkout counter, pointlessly rearranged a few items on the shelves, then put them back. She stared at the silent phone, the bell above the door, Rosie’s grimoire on the counter. The shop was too quiet.
In the foyer, the clock on the mantel chimed out the midnight hour.
She carried Rosie’s grimoire to the bistro table across from Hildegarde, who was still clutching the book she’d been reading when she dozed off.
Rosie’s cat was snoozing on Hildegarde’s lap.
Maida set down the grimoire, then gently slipped the book out of Hildegarde’s hands. She sat down to peruse it.
Spells for Magical Pondscaping, Terrariums and Aquariums was full of the types of gardens she thought only existed in Las Vegas hotel lobbies.
Fantastical floating bubbles filled with colorful tropical fish filled one page.
Sequin lined ponds full of ferocious flowers plucked straight from one of Granny’s afghans.
There was even a whimsical aquarium that resembled a neon-lit man cave, where a group of five octopuses were engaged in a game of high stakes poker.
Magic unlocked so many possibilities for creativity. It made things she had never considered before possible. If only she could figure out how to harness her own magic without harming anyone. She wished that someone would have provided her with a guide. Like Rosie’s grimoire.
Maida studied the book on the table. She would have liked to look at some of the images again, but she didn’t want to pry, and anyway, the book was locked.
She turned it over in her hands, and ran her fingertips along the scales until, quite accidentally, her pinky found a button to release the latch.
She hadn’t even considered pressing it, when the book started heating up. In a matter of seconds the cover went from room temperature to the red hot searing temp of a branding iron. She barely had the wherewithal to drop the book before the scales left a permanent scar.
The instant it landed on the table, the book cooled off. The noise woke the cat, and Gemini sat up and scratched her ear. She gazed from the book, back to Maida, with half-closed eyes full of approbation.
“I would never read Rosie’s book. It’s not what you’re thinking!” Maida whisper-talked at Gemini. She could not believe she was defending herself to a feline.
The cat stretched lazily before shooting back a judgmental “sure it isn’t” expression. Her whiskers tweaked haughtily as she sniffed at the crumbs on Hildegarde’s plate.
“I’m so sorry, Gemmy. Nobody’s fed you tonight, have they? Where does Rosie keep your food?”
Maida stood and tucked the Dragon Grimoire under her arm.
Perhaps Cormac was right. A book that could burst into flames didn’t belong in a bookshop full of paperback novels and spell books.
She really ought to take it down to the Archives for safekeeping.
And what could it hurt, Maida decided, if she were to poke around to see if there were any books about manifesting while she was down there?
All of this, she noted, was completely dependent on the Archives opening for her.
She had no doubts about Amrita, but it almost seemed too simple to believe she could simply walk downstairs and check out the Arcane Archives as easily as if she was heading down to the basement to toss in a load of laundry.
She wouldn’t stay long or do anything crazy. She was just going to feed the cat, drop off the book and have a quick glance at the bookshelves. If the Archives were arranged like the shop, she shouldn’t have too much trouble finding things.
“Come on, Gem,” Maida called the cat. But Gemini wasn’t interested. She curled back up again on their sleeping patron.
“Come on, Hildegarde’s lap will still be there after you’ve eaten,” Maida coaxed, heading towards the darkened hallway.
Finally, begrudgingly, Gemini jumped down, though Maida wasn’t entirely sure whether she was following out of hunger, or if she was simply determined not to let Rosie’s book out of her sight.
The minute they reached the hallway, the cat started acting strangely again. She crouched and prowled and pounced. What was it? A marble? A penny? She could faintly hear something rolling down the hall. At least it wasn’t another wrapper. She hoped it wasn’t that poor mouse.
Maida felt for the light switch on the wall.
She was still learning where things were, and she was half hoping one would simply materialize now.
It had been days since the house had done any small favors like this.
She hoped she hadn’t worn out her welcome.
Feeling foolish, she slid her hand along the wainscoting, just past the mudroom on the opposite wall. There they were.
Quickly, she flipped all four switches. But nothing happened.
Looking back, she could see the front of the house was dark now as well.
The power was out. Maida was used to this, having grown up in an older home.
She recalled having seen a stack of beeswax candles and a box of matches in the mudroom.
“I’ll be right back, Gem. I’m going to go see if there’re any candles in the mudroom.” Maida crossed her fingers that the mouse, or whatever the cat was hunting, would manage to get away in the meantime.