Chapter Twenty-Four
A Lovely Shade of Boogerberry
“Why would the grimoire show up blank for us?” I stammer. I can’t believe we’ve snuck our way down into the bowels of Paris’ magical world and miraculously opened this infamous grimoire only for it to be filled with empty pages.
“But it doesn’t,” Tuesday says, eyes growing wider by the second, “I can see everything.” She looks back at her twin, shock written on her face. “I can read it, Morrow!”
Setting a hand on her sister’s back, Tomorrow releases the briefest sigh of relief. “That’s great, Tu, cause we can’t see anything.”
“‘The Spell of Joined Things,’” Tomorrow reads softly, flipping back to the page marked by the skeleton’s finger. “Curious.”
As she pours over the spells only her spellwriter eyes can see, Soren exchanges a look with me. If only Tuesday can read this grimoire, then he’s going to have to tell her what to look for.
And maybe what he is.
“Can you find the section on Soul Magic?” he asks.
The pages continued turning, but Tuesday shakes her head. “I don’t see anything in here about Soul Magic.”
Sabbath frowns, thoughtful. “Can you try a spell for revealing hidden things? I’ve heard that in many of the textbooks for upperclassmen, the more dangerous pages are hidden so no one will stumble upon them by accident.”
“Good idea,” Nik breathes, stepping in closer, and Sab gives him a pleased look.
Muttering an incantation under her breath, Tuesday gasps as a whole new section of the book materializes. Her mouth drops open a little as she thumbs through the new pages. “There are so many dangerous spells in here, Soren. Which dangerous spell is yours?”
He hesitates for a moment. “Mysteria de Anima Translatio.”
“What does it do?” Tomorrow asks again, as if she thinks she can catch Soren off guard.
“I want to fix something that’s wrong.”
“Well someone else does, too.” Tuesday runs her hands along the jagged remains of a page.
The sharp planes of Soren’s face harden, his eyes growing cold. “It was the spell the High Council just took. They’re the only ones powerful enough to remove a page.”
“What kind of spell was it that the High Council would take it?” Nik asks, dubious eyes finding Soren.
“No questions,” Soren snaps, but the slightest twitch of a line between his brows betrays him. He’s not just covering himself this time. He’s covering the fact that he has no idea why the Council took that spell, and this scares him.
“Did someone bring paper?” Tuesday asks, and Sabbath withdraws the notebook on which she’d meant to transcribe the spell. Tuesday tears a page from it, taking out a bit of charcoal from her bag and pressing it to the book. She sweeps the charcoal across it and faint marks began to emerge, marks that even we can see.
“Wow,” Tu says, looking surprised. “I didn’t think that would work.”
“Is that—”
“I’ve traced the quill markings left on the page beneath the spell. Many of the ancient texts used quills that embedded a magical copy of the words several pages deep, in case spells were stolen. Morrow, can you deepen the contrast?”
Tomorrow’s eyes squint with concentration. The black of the charcoal deepens, leaving all the lighter places brighter than before. There are definitely clear words on the page, but the problem is that there are three sets of them: the scribblings from both the front and back sides of the missing page, and the spell on the page Tu traced itself.
“Mmm, well, yes,” Tuesday nods. “Rudimentary without the proper tools, but I think I can separate them. I’ll just need a few days to study it. Work some magic.” Tuesday shrugs at Soren. It’s the best she can do.
He swallows back the sigh I instinctually know he’d rather give, instead opting for an affirmative nod. “Thank you, Tuesday. Let’s go.”
We sneak through Bracco & Briggs unnoticed and hurry back to Spellfall before our absence draws attention.
“Wait, Mika.”
Soren grabs my arm in the darkened hallway, just before I turn to follow the girls back to our rooms. He spins me back around to him, startling me with the gentle touch of his hand. Drawing something there, he then playfully tugs on my hair as it ripens back into a bright shade of bubblegum.
“I fixed it.”
I roll my eyes. “Really?”
“I like the pink.”
“It’s not about what you like, Soren. Feminism 101. Guess there’s one class they didn’t offer at Burnbright.”
He gives me an indolent look, sinking a hand into his pocket, and I push back the instinct to swat at him. Knowing his secret has shifted something between us. Soren seems bolder with me, his eyes a little brighter and his taunts a little lazier. He’s thawing out around me, losing his sharp edges.
It scares me.
“Do you want me to change it?” he offers.
“No!” I retort. My face forms a frown as I work out a careful response. “I kind of like the pink. But just, like, ask. You know?”
“Alright then.” I get a strange look that quickly falls into a dimpled grin, like Soren Cain is delighted we agree on something as basic as the color pink.
A gross feeling twists inside me, something that feels almost good, but is far too dangerous to be.
* * *
The next week is spent hunkered down in any available nooks in the château, avoiding the crowds of the library, and bemoaning the occupied seats at the Comet. It’s strange to be so focused on normal things like exams, instead of plotting new ways to break the law.
Tonight, Nik, Sab, and I speed-eat so we can hurry back and nab seats in the common room.
“I need to stop sneaking you lattés,” Sabbath notes as she watches my hands shake. I’m tossing ingredients into my portable cauldron, practicing a concoction for my Brewing & Stewing exam. I have mainly been subsisting on caffeine and sugar, both conveniently supplied by the pumpkin spice lattés she brings me during our study sessions.
“Don’t. They are my lifeline.”
Sighing, she leans closer to Nik. “You know, I just noticed your eyes are greener sometimes,” Sabbath observes, her head resting on her chin as she looks over at him.
He looks up from his notes, brows dancing up and then down as he tries to interpret her comment.
Sabbath turns a deep red, realizing what she’s said.
“I just meant, like, I didn’t know if you were doing that on purpose. With magic.”
Nice save, Sab. I can’t really blame her for her flirting fumble. With night classes, her work schedule, and all of our study sessions, she’s a bit more delirious than the rest of us.
Nik sticks his lower lip out, shaking his head. “Nope, just my eyes.”
He returns to his paper and I watch Sabbath cringe, her eyes closing in pained embarrassment. I also catch Nik’s eyes steal another glance at her.
Sabbath does have a point. His eyes do look like a very lovely shade of boogerberry potion today.
I clear my throat. “What are you two doing for the Solstice Ball?”
“We’ve been over this, Mika,” Sabbath groans. “I can’t even think about it until exams are over.”
“What’s the Solstice Ball?” Nik asks, ready for a distraction as he sets his pen aside. I plop some weeds into my cauldron.
“Yeah, Sabbath, what’s the Solstice Ball?”
She shoots me a look that says, “Really?” before turning to explain. “All Hallows’ Eve is one of the witching world’s most sacred holidays, but the other is the Winter Solstice, which celebrates the historical forming of the High Council. Centuries ago, magic was failing. Fifteen of the witching world’s leaders met up every year on the solstice to devise a plan. They ended up making a deal with the spirits. Combining their powers, they distributed them evenly among magical communities throughout the world.”
“They gave up their magic?”
Sabbath nods. “That’s why we celebrate their sacrifice each year.”
“So, do I have to get dressed up?”
“Yes,” I reply. “And you must have a date.”
Noticing Sabbath open her mouth to interrupt, I shoot a glare her way. I will not let her ruin this for herself. “Right, Sab?”
She remains tight-lipped, staring at me.
“You know,” I say to Nik, “she really doesn’t want to talk about it. But, I think we should save her the trouble of figuring things out later. You take her this year.”
“And who are you going to go with, Mika?” she asks tightly.
I shrug. “It’s a surprise.”
“Sure, I’ll take you,” Nik offers. “Sounds fun!”
He smiles at her and she opens her mouth to say something I’m certain will be embarrassing. I shake my head ever so slightly, and she thankfully snaps her mouth shut, returning his smile with a nod.
When Tuesday hurries into the room with bountiful energy, my caffeine-fueled body jumps, hand smacking into my practice concoction. It spills across the table, sizzling angrily. I’m pretty sure it’s not supposed to do that.
Tu’s trailed by an exhausted-looking Tomorrow and Soren. “I figured it out!” she announces gleefully, plopping down onto the floor next to us. “The spell from the Grimoire du Mage. I know what we have to do.”
Sabbath looks back at Tuesday with a sort of dull expression on her face. She’s functioning at such high capacity that I wouldn’t be shocked if she’s taking this moment to take a nap inside her brain.
“The spell involves an incantation, a potion—which is what the ingredients listed are for—and a final ritual,” Tuesday explains. “We start with cord magic as part of a power transference. That traps our desires around the potion as it steeps, and,” she bends her head down to read off her paper. “‘Releasing the knots will release the power. One must align the untying of knots with the cycle of the moon most capable of benefiting it.’”
“So, what would that be?” Tomorrow asks, looking between Tu and Soren.
“Well,” Tuesday says carefully, her eyes moving reluctantly away from Soren. I’m sure she’s figured out what we’re doing, even if she doesn’t know why. “This is big magic, and full moons are the most powerful.”
She’s suggesting we start the brew the night of the solstice. “We can use the ball as a diversion,” I agree. “It’ll be easy to sneak off while everyone’s distracted. And I know a room we can use.” I nod. “So, brewing and stewing with cord magic, then a ritual. Got it.”
“There’s one more thing,” Tuesday sucks a tooth nervously, passing the paper to Soren. “You were right about all the ingredients, except for—”
“A human heart,” Soren reads gruffly.
Sabbath and I exchange a look, and I fold my arms. “Lucky for us, Sab and I happen to know where to find one of those.”
“Great,” he says. “One that’s still beating?”