I shoved some sausage in my mouth as a promise to my stomach that more food was on the way.
“Now we discover what she has taken and piece it together with what we know already And just like Columbo, we will have all the answers we need to solve this mystery.”
“And just how are you meant to know what has been taken?” Aunt Liz said from behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and grimaced at the disapproving stare.
“I took precautions.”
“That vault is meant to be safe from such precautions.”
“It is.”
“Then what the hell have you done?” Aunt Liz snapped. “My mother is not to be trifled with.”
“I have a replica vault.” Thick silence coated the room. “It will show us what has changed.”
“That’s a very dangerous game you are playing, Cora. I hope you know what you are doing.”
I scooped up some fluffy scrambled eggs and joined her in that sentiment. I also hoped I knew what I was doing, because this game wasn’t only dangerous, it was deadly.
Cora Roberts—demolisher of eggs and family trust.
Chapter Seventeen
Just when you think things can’t get any worse, the universe sucker punches you in the face.
When you’ve violated the trust of your family, you have to make sure it was for a damn good reason. I only hoped my grandmother hadn’t taken something insignificant from the vault. Otherwise, I could kiss the support of my aunts goodbye.
With Aunt Liz at my back, I opened the first vault, which contained much of my personal collection. We’d left everyone else in the main house. This was primarily Roberts’ business.
“How does this show us what she took?” my aunt asked as she gazed at the treasures I’d hoarded over the years.
I stalked to the back of the vault and pushed a cabinet two feet to the left, revealing an unassuming rectangular door. I whispered a chant specific to myself, and the door clicked open, a small gap appearing at the side.
My hands wrapped around the handle and I yanked it open. The lights flared to life, like it was welcoming me home. My aunt followed on my heels.
She spun in a circle, her mouth popping open. “You replicated the entire third vault?”
I nodded at where a faint purple magical signature hovered like a glittery beacon. “I did, and for about three hours afterwards, the room replicates the movements of the visitor, showing what they touched.”
I moved toward the glitter and gazed at a book on a waist height wooden pedestal. My grandmother’s signature was concentrated in this area, she hadn’t been anywhere else. This is what she took.
Aunt Liz peered at the book, a look of foreboding blanketing her features. “Is this just for show, or can we see what the book contains?”
I cast her a look, a smile pulling at my lips. “Since when do I do anything halfhearted, Aunt?”
Her hands trembled a little as she touched the cover. “Nothing good can come from this grimoire.”
“Whose is it?”
“Eunice Roberts, your great-grandmother. She was an expert spell caster and the reason I cannot have children, neither can you. It would be a death sentence to the father, and I think you are rather fond of Hudson.”
Eunice Roberts was born without elemental power, and she made it her mission to alter the curse placed on the Roberts’ bloodline. The first born of each generation would drain their fathers dry of magic and life-force. Technically, my father should be dead, but the curse was no match for an archangel. I suspected I had weakened him, and that’s why he stayed out of my life. Also, I technically was a Nephilim, a feared race that were commonly slaughtered at birth. My mother had the common sense to conceal my identity and teach me how to chain my alter ego.
This grimoire would contain all of Eunice’s secrets, her darkest spells, and greatest accomplishments. She was both revered and feared in our community, and what the hell my grandmother wanted with her mother’s grimoire terrified me.
“This is an exact replica?” Aunt Liz asked.
I nodded. “Down to the crinkled pages and torn edges.”
