Chapter 10 #2
“If we’re going to make the witch weapon, it has to be tonight.” Caldwell looks up at the sky, his attention glued to the bright, round moon. “We need the full moon for this.”
I look at Jun, my lips pressed into a tight line.
We can’t wait another month. There will probably be another death before then.
“Then it will have to be tonight,” Jun says. “Unless you have a problem with that, princess?”
Tobey and Caldwell are watching me now, too. Their eyes bore into me with a question behind their gaze. I don’t give myself a moment to acknowledge it or wonder what they may want to ask about.
It likely has to do with Jun’s use of what is usually a pet name, but I know it isn’t sweet when he uses it. Princess. It’s condescending, a means of tormenting me—and now that he’s saying it in front of my friends, it’s working.
“No problem here.” My stomach twists with an unfamiliar sensation.
“I’ll prepare the ritual,” Caldwell says. “Meet me on the library roof at midnight.”
After our meeting, I slink into the library, hoping to learn more about these so-called witch weapons. Dark bookshelves and desks fill the room, and students work with their heads down. My quiet footsteps are the only sound in the silent room.
With my lips pressed together, I stroll to the magical section. It’s one I’ve never needed to visit.
I’m not a witch, and I have no way or hope of making any of these magical items myself, but learning about them before trusting Caldwell’s plan is a necessity.
“What are you doing?” A voice purrs in my ear, but there’s no one behind me.
My eyes widen, and I look around wildly, with a screech caught in the back of my throat.
Jun materializes in a puff of smoke, with his wings and horns on full display.
“Stop it!” I swat, almost playfully, at his arm. “Some of us are here to study.”
“Is that really what you’re doing?” He leans closer, his chin resting on my shoulder as he peers at the book in my hands. “The Witch Way: Enchanting Every Day. Doesn’t sound like you’re here to study.”
“But I am.”
Technically, it’s still studying, even if it has nothing to do with my courses.
“That book won’t have the answers you’re looking for.” He clicks his tongue and makes his way down the bookshelf. The book he pulls from the shelf is dark and dusty, appearing untouched for months. Perhaps years. He blows the dust off the cover and hands it to me. “Try this.”
“There’s no title.” My brows furrow.” How do you know this is the one?”
“A witch weapon won’t be in those corny, commercial books about hair charms and magical soups. It’ll be in something like this.”
He’s right. I flip the book open, and the first page is a long list of unsavory magic. How to curse, hex, and jinx.
“How is any of this allowed?” I flip through the pages.
“It wouldn’t be here otherwise. Humans are the ones who burn and ban books, not us.”
Information is power, or so my father always says. When I flip to the page on witch weapons, I realize he was right to say so. I pore over the pages in silence.
I hardly notice Jun is closer, reading along with me, until I feel his breath against my cheek, and his wing grazing against my back. It would feel protective… if he were someone else.
“Charming a mundane weapon to destroy the energy of a demon,” he murmurs. “It’s the only known weapon that can take their immortal life, but it’s not foolproof.”
I turn my head, meeting his eyes. He’s closer than expected, and I suppress a shudder. “The placement needs to be exact, so the person wielding it has to be decent with the weapon.”
“How good are you in combat?”
I wince. “Not very.”
“Great.” He snorts and pulls away.
I close the book shut with a snap, holding it to my chest defensively. “Oh, as if you’re any better!”
“I know how to fight,” he says. “Not all of us have the same cushy life.”
“You already admitted to being raised at boarding schools.”
“Yeah.” He shrugs. “That doesn’t mean shit.”
“Fine. You can be the one to wield the weapon.”
“Fine.”
“Speaking of fathers…” I hesitate. “Have you heard from yours again?”
“Nope. Just the one dream, and he abandoned me again. Typical.”
“And what, exactly, did he say in the dream?”
“To keep my head down, and not to trust everything I hear.”
“Ominous.”
“That’s nothing new for him.” A sly smile plays on his lips. “I still don’t know what it means, but I think he was trying to warn me against you.”
“It’s too bad you didn’t listen.” I shove the book at him, fully expecting him to put it away. “This thing is useless. It doesn’t even tell us how to make the weapon.”
Because, according to the pages, only a few know how. That means we have to trust Caldwell, and it doesn’t exactly put me at ease. He may claim to know how to make a witch weapon, but what if he doesn’t? What if he makes a mistake?
“I didn’t take the dream too seriously,” Jun says. “There is someone I don’t trust, but it’s my father—not you.”
I blink. “You trust me?”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I trust you more than I trust my father, but that’s not saying much.”
I shake my head, at a loss for words. From anyone else, the sentiment would be sweet. It’s far too sugary for us, and Jun seems to realize that quickly.
“You’d better hope your friend knows what he’s doing,” he says, placing the book neatly on the shelf.
“Oh, he knows.” I have no reason to display such confidence, but much like Tobey, no one gets to assault and mistrust Caldwell.
Except for me, of course.
I amble through the library, looking for one book in particular. The only one who will tell me anything about Strode—Jun’s father. Without saying a word, I take the History of Strode from the shelves.
“You’d better be right,” he says. “Otherwise, one of us will be stabbing an angry demon, and if the weapon doesn’t work…”
“Yes, yes,” I mutter, thumbing through the pages. “Our soul becomes a snack for the demon instead. I get it. Thank you.”
“I guess we’ll see tonight.” He backs away. “See you at midnight.”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Better not. If you drag your feet much longer, I’ll talk to your father on my own.”
Maybe it would be better that way—I can preserve my relationship with my family, and we can still solve this.
But I know that’s not how it’s supposed to be. Jun offered to join with me, and I can’t leave him alone, even if my life would be much easier without him.
Before I can say anything, he disappears in another puff of smoke, and I find what I’m looking for—the sigil. The same sigil I found pinned to the latest victim.
I snap a picture and swiftly send it to the group text.
Tobey
Oh. My. God.
Margaux
It’s Strode’s sigil.
He really is involved.
And I can really trust Jun. Maybe.