Every time I read those lines, I felt a stab of jealousy. Nancy and I had so much in common—we were both girls without mothers who had a penchant for getting ourselves into and out of scrapes. And while I’d had a wonderful childhood with my grandparents, Nancy had a father, Carson Drew. To an orphan, even an absentee or neglectful father sounded like the height of luxury, but Nancy had one who clearly adored her. I envied her like a twin sister who had gotten an extra Christmas present. According toThe Secret of the Old Clock,Nancy’s mother had died when she was ten. That meant she’d also gotten ten years with a mother in her life, and I’d only gotten a few months, months I didn’t even remember.
Of course I’d asked my grandparents everything they knew about my mother, and they’d told me wonderful stories about her. Young Ellery March, like me, had been obsessed with books. First it was anything with unicorns, then sharks, then anything set in space, then Nancy Drew by the time she turned ten. Before me, she was the youngest Book Witch, joining the Ink and Paper Coven at only fifteen years old. She took on every assignment fearlessly, making her a legend by the age of twenty-one.
And then…something happened. At age twenty-nine, she disappeared for an entire year without a trace. And when she showed up on my grandparents’ doorstep, she was eight months pregnant with me. She would answer no questions about where she’d been or say who my father was, not even to her own parents.
Pops said that shortly before she died, my mother had given himThe Secret of the Old Clockand told him to pass it on to me when I turned eighteen or became a Book Witch myself, whichever came sooner. He’d always assumed she’d left a secret message in the book forme, a letter or something, but when Pops gave it to me the night of my initiation into the Ink and Paper Coven, the only note I found inside was her name on the title page written in peacock blue ink.
Therewasa message in the book for me, however. And you didn’t even need Nancy Drew’s help to decipher it. It came through loud and clear. The book was about a girl growing up without a mother. Nancy Drew turned out fine, more than fine. She was clever, courageous, good-hearted, intelligent, strong-willed, and happy. So happy she barely even thought of her dead mother and certainly never grieved for her.
Be clever, courageous, and happy. Don’t think too much about what you’ve lost, and you’ll be all right.That was the unwritten message from my mother. In other words, be just like Nancy Drew.
When the red hotline phone on the desk suddenly rang, I dove for it like a drowning girl diving for a life preserver. The secure landline was for Coven business only.
“Hello? Rainy March at your service. Please.”
“Hi, Rainy, it’s Penny Nichols!”
Oh, joy. Penny. Penny, the pretty, perky apprentice Book Witch. Penny Nichols, the crown princess of exclamation points. She’d only been with Ink and Paper for about a month, and it seemed she’d spent that entire month trying to be my new best friend.
“Hi, Penny,” I said and tried not to sigh audibly.
“How are you, Rainy? Doing anything fun today?”
“Having an allergy attack.”
“Is that fun?” She sounded skeptical but open-minded. I couldn’t help but like her, even if she did make me feel about fifty years old.
“Even less fun than it sounds.”
“Would you like a break from having an allergy attack?”
“I would kill for one,” I said. Was I finally out of the doghouse with Dr. Fanshawe?
“What’s the situation?” I asked.
“Rogue main character. Burner set her free for some reason.”
A runaway main character was an important assignment, muchmore important than mending spines and making Excel spreadsheets of book titles and publication dates.The Mark of SinandLoving Luciferwould have to wait their turn.
“Dr. Fanshawe says to meet her at the bookstore in African Cuisine in fifteen minutes.”
“I’ll be there in ten.”
Chapter Eight
No time to waste. I climbed onto the ottoman once more to retrieve my umbrella. Book Witches use umbrellas as wands, of course, but we also use them as umbrellas. Book Witches, not unlike certain vampires, spend a lot of time in the Pacific Northwest and out here umbrellas are a must-have. Summers are very nice, but the rest of the year? Rain. Endless, driving, pitiless, merciless rain. Biblical rain. End of the world rain. Name your daughter after the rain, because around here, the rain is in charge and it never hurts to suck up to the boss. That kind of rain.
I pulled my umbrella out of the safe. Pops had taken his with him on his top secret mission. I told myself he was likely tucked away in some eccentric billionaire’s private library, being paid handsomely to catalog his collection of ancient occult tomes and magical cursed codices. He was Ink and Paper’s go-to guy for that sort of thing. He was probably having the time of his life. Still, he was almost never gone this long, and I couldn’t help but worry a little.
Into the safe I placedThe Secret of the Old Clock.Before Duke, I’d always kept it in my bedside table in a locked drawer, but after learning what Duke kept in his safe—all the treasures from his brothers—I started storing the book in our wall safe too. Why? I don’t know. Romantic silliness, really. Plus a touch of paranoia courtesy of Pops. For some reason, all my mother’s papers and case notebooks had beenseized when she died. Pops said the Coven’s leaders took them for “reasons,” and he worried they’d want to take the book too if they thought she’d left some sort of secret message behind in it.
If you asked me, there were too many secrets in this house.
The Secret of My Grandfather’s Mysterious Mission.
The Secret of My Mother’s Missing Year.
The Secret of The Secret of the Old Clock.
