Deva shrugged. “She said something about going to the library.” She pulled out her phone to call her, but I got totally engrossed in the journals. “Ohh,” Beth said. “I found enchantments.” My gaze skimmed over the pages in front of me and I wasn't sure what I was seeing at first but to me they looked like spells of some kind. Protection maybe? Divination possibly? There were pages and pages of them, each with a slightly different heading to the point that I wasn't sure if it was just drafts of the same spell or different spells completely.
Daniel’s journals stopped the show. “I can’t believe it,” he whispered.
Any interest I had in figuring out what was in my journals took a pause at his tone. “What?” I asked, leaning over to try to read his book. The handwriting was definitely feminine so probably his wife's but it was also squished and extra curly to the point that I was having a hard time reading it.
Finally Daniel said, “My wife was researching a spell she believed your parents had performed on you.” He met my gaze. “One to open you up to magic.”
Open me up to magic? What the hell? What did my parents even know about magic? And could you really open a human up to magic? My head was spinning with questions and I had no idea how I was going to find any answers.
The doorbell rang.
“That’d be lunch,” Deva said.
But, suddenly, I wasn’t hungry.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Emma
“Did you ever get a call back from Carol?” Beth asked, her voice tinged with concern. I looked up from my journal and found Beth staring at her own phone as though she was mentally willing Carol to call her.
Deva looked up from what she was reading and blinked slowly. Once she seemed to be back with us, and not lost in the world these journals were talking about, she reached out and grabbed her phone. The screen came to life but there were no missed calls or notifications, just a photo of cake. The woman knew how to choose her lock screens, I'd give her that. “Oh, geez, no. And it’s almost dinner time. We’ve been sitting here reading this stuff most of the day.”
I understood her owlish blinking. My brain was fuzzy from being so engrossed in the journals. And now that I wasn’t thinking about the words on the page, my stomach growled and I really needed a glass of Henry’s lemonade. He really did make some of the best lemonade I'd ever had. My brain must have been mush if I was thinking more about lemonade than where Carol had run off to.
“I’ll try to get her again,” Beth said. She stood and walked into the kitchen with her cell as we turned back to the journals. I slowly ate from the lunch Deva had dropped off hours ago, while studying the journal. There was just so much information in them to absorb. They had documented everything, every trial, every mistake, everything they could get their hands on. It still wasn't clear what exactly they were trying to accomplish though. It was like they thought even writing it down would get them in trouble.
“So, your parents thought someone was watching you?" Daniel asked, studying me with those jade eyes of his.
I nodded. The thought creeped me out. I'd just been a little girl at the time of the entry that told us what they suspected. “They were worried I’d been marked by the paranormal community, but they didn’t know or understand why.” I pointed to a line in one of the journals. “They worried that if they couldn’t perform this spell, I’d end up dead, but they never said what the spell was.” I flipped to the end. “The journals end with the suggestion that something worked and something went wrong. And that my whole family might have been in danger.”
He nodded as though that helped him understand his own reading, or maybe he just understood my frustration. “My wife’s journals start years later. She was pulled into the organization, or club or whatever it was, by someone she refers to as Z. As the journals progress, it’s clear she goes down the same path as your parents.”
I wanted to scream. But there wasn’t much we could do now to warn Sarah. They were so eager for the barriers to come down between humans and supernatural beings that Sarah had got herself in deep with someone dangerous. I hated that Daniel had lost his wife and I hated even more that it hadn't just been a tragic accident, that someone had intentionally snuffed out the warmth of her from the world.
“These end with…” Daniel turned pages to the end, his fingertips grazing the paper carefully until he found what he's looking for. “In the last entry it says she suspects that what happened to Emma’s parents was Z’s fault and now she’s worried she’s in danger, too. It says she told Thomas!” Daniel looked at me in surprise, then read more. “Said he figured it out so she told him the truth.”
I sighed. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this and stop all this nonsense. Once and for all.” I just didn't know how...yet.
***
Daniel
My chest was aching like I was being stabbed over and over again. Going through all this stuff with Sarah, reading her handwriting… it was like she’d just died a few days or weeks ago. Not years. I could almost smell her perfume on the pages as well, like this time capsule was trying to torture me. It was even worse since I was sitting right next to Emma.
My emotions were all tangled now, even though Sarah had given us her blessing I felt strange about everything. It wasn't that I didn't want Emma, I very much did, but with all this stuff about Sarah being brought back up I felt like I was reliving losing her all over again.
How was it possible that I’d never known all these things about my wife? She was my wife and she was keeping a secret this big from me? I couldn't stop myself from feeling a bit betrayed. I knew she didn't mean anything by it, but it still hurt. Had she not trusted me enough to talk about this? Did she think I was too much of a stickler for the rules to tell me?
To top it off, the thought of foul play had never even crossed my mind. Now, the knowledge that she could have been murdered sent chills through me. I was a cop, I should have looked into it more, should have realized that there was something off about the accident. Shoulda, woulda, coulda...
As my therapist would say, I was should-ing on myself again. The past is the past and we react the best way we can in the moment. I had to believe that or I would start questioning everything.
Between Sarah being murdered and me not knowing about this obsession of hers I was beginning to wonder what else I didn’t know?
My phone pinged with a text. I slipped it from my pocket, worried that it might be something to do with Nathan again. Fortunately, it was just Joel letting me know my truck was finally ready. It would be a shame to see the fancy green truck I'd been driving around go, but I lovedmytruck and all the memories she contained, including all the scratches and dings, which this loaner didn't have. The thing practically looked brand new.
“Should I have dinner delivered?” Deva asked, yawning. “It’s getting late.”
