Ipicked up yet another book of spells from the stack on the table in front of me and huffed out a sigh. This was the first time Maverick had let me out of his sight in three days. We’d spent most of the three days in bed.
I’d gone from sweet and innocent to a literal sex goddess. A small smirk escaped as I thought about how he’d done athingwith his fingers last night that had made me scream so loud it was a wonder the entire realm hadn’t heard.
The sound of a muffled curse made me look up to see Glynda stumbling under the weight of yet more books.
“I wish you’d be more specific about what you need this spell to do,” she grumbled. “Locator spells are a dime a dozen, but they all have different purposes. I mean, if you need a spell to find a lost key, then great, but some additional information would be helpful!”
I winced. The goddess knew I trusted Glynda, but equally, I didn’t want to drag her into my mess. Searching for a lost vampire prince could easily turn into a monumental disaster.
How did I know this?
Because disaster was my middle name.
“I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,” I quipped.
Glynda rolled her eyes and huffed irritably. “Okay, so this is all the books on locator spells I could find. If the spell you need isn’t in any of them, you’re shit out of luck.”
Four hours later, I concluded I was, indeed, shit out of luck. Despite combing through every book in the library, or so it felt, I couldn’t find a spell that would locate a person potentially several continents away.
Because these were academy textbooks, they mostly contained simple spells, such as how to locate a lost sock or trigger a missing phone to buzz loudly. Not exactly what I needed.
“Are there any other spell encyclopedias?”
Glynda pushed the books aside and frowned. “Third-year witches usually have access to their family’s grimoire, but anyone unconnected by blood to the grimoire wouldn’t be able to use it.” She chewed her lip for a moment. “Witch and mage faculty members likely keep their spell books locked in their individual offices. Montgomery has his own personal library.” Glynda glanced around to check no other students were listening. “He’s rumored to have a collection of Dark Arts texts.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
Glynda nodded.
The Mage Council banned the use of black magic decades ago because of how volatile and addictive it was. Witches and mages who dabbled in dark magic almost always fell into a spiral of addiction and death. Death magic ate away your soul until there was nothing left.Some said all black magic originated in the hell realm, and the witches who used it ended up trapped there for all eternity.
I preferred not to think about such things.
“Why would he want books like that?”
“They’re very collectible and worth a fortune, so maybe he keeps them as an investment?” She shrugged. “Who knows? Anyway, the point I was trying to make is that Montgomery has a ton of high-level spellcasting texts, so if the spell you need is a tier five or above, it’s likely in one of those books.”
My shoulders sagged in resigned disappointment. “Ugh. Not helpful. We both know books like that will be locked away behind a ton of wards.”
“Yep.” She picked up a stack of books to return them to their rightful places on the shelves. My friend was just too organized for her own good. I decided that one day, I would be a witch who craved order in her life. The sort of witch who arranged books in alphabetical order rather than leaving them all over her room in random places.
I chewed my pen while thinking. If I couldn’t find a spellbook, then maybe I needed to ask a more powerful witch –or mage– for advice. Good job I knew a mage whomightagree to help.
“No.” Alaric shoved past me before I could get a word out. He reached for a bowl of oatmeal and headed toward the coffee machine. I abandoned my tray and scurried after him. Coffee seemed like a good idea. The goddess knew I needed some caffeine after the terrible night’s sleep I’d endured.
“You’re not giving me a chance to explain.”Stupid, arrogant mage.
“Not interested.” He sneered at me over his shoulder as the coffee machine spat out a double-shot caramel latte.Yum. “You stink of… wet dog.”
A loud burst of feminine laughter broke through my coffee dream.
“What?”
“Have you been rolling around with animals in the forest? It sure smells like it.” He shoved me back, causing me to stumble in surprise.
“Of course she stinks,” Demelza snorted. “That’s what happens when you fuck a bear.” The witch’s lip curled up as her hand slid around Alar-dick’s bicep. I frowned in confusion while trying not to wince at the agonizing pain in my chest. A deep furrow appeared between Alaric’s eyes, and a vein throbbed in his temple. I prayed to the goddess his mean-spirited attitude was as painful for him as it was for me.
“Soul-bonds are sacred,” I pointed out, refusing to let Demelza derail me from my quest. “Are you suggesting the goddess made a mistake? Pretty sure goddesses know what they’re doing, but feel free to call her out on this.” I arched an eyebrow and waited for Demelza to react.
