I seteverything on the kitchen table and open the grimoire, pulling out the folded paper with my own notes. I read them over until the oven beeps, get up to put two lasagnas in the oven, then go right back to the book.
I woke up the gargoyles, bringing them back to the men they used to be. I can hold fire in my bare hands and not feel the heat. I can do the glamour spells. Obviously I have magic inside me. I need to figure this shit out and do something with it.
Uncapping a pen, I stare at my notebook. Jacques said I can make my own spells, and the spells already written in the book aren’t strong enough to break the curse. I’m sure it takes years of practice to get to the point of creating spells, but what if I combine what’s already written?
I make lists of the ingredients of every spell translated so far that could be applied to curse breaking, circling anything that’s mentioned more than once, thinking maybe if I double those ingredients, I’ll up the ante and make a spell that’ll pack a punch.
It sounds too easy, I know, but it’s all I’ve got right now. Getting annoyed with myself for not thinking up a genius idea that will break this curse, I get up, not able to sit still any longer. Checking on the food in the oven, I spend a few minutes cleaning up the kitchen and pull out the vacuum.
The guys and I have fallen into a routine. It was weird having to show them how to do simple household chores, but since they never lived in this millennium until recently, those simple things were foreign to them.
This house is so damn big it takes all of us to keep it clean. I get the living room, kitchen, and dining room vacuumed, then stop to keep working on dinner, mixing up a salad and getting garlic bread ready to go in the oven later.
I sit on the porch steps, waiting for the guys to wake up. My thoughts drift back to that bloody basement, back to the vacant look in Mrs. Green’s eyes when she told me about the Dark Ones.
There was no connection made from the stolen body in the alley to the blood on the basement walls. The two are being treated as separate incidences, though my gut tells me otherwise.
And now I’m thinking about ghosts again, mind going crazy with everything Jacques and I talked about this morning. If there was a way to speak to the spirits of my parents, I’d know what happened.
I’d know how to make sure it never happens again.
Bits of stone and dust start to fall from Thomas’s and Gilbert’s wings. I watch, impressed every time I see them shift from stone to man. Well,almostman.
“Morning, sunshine,” I say, getting to my feet. Gilbert shakes dust from his hair and smiles, looking up at the house for the others to join. “How’d you sleep?”
Gilbert gives me a glare. “Like a baby.”
“Yeah, it’s really comfortable up there,” Thomas deadpans.
“It looks terrible, really. I can only imagine the stiff neck you’d wake up with.”
“That’s not the only stiff part I wake up with,” Thomas says with a smirk. Jacques joins us, followed a moment later by Hasan. My heart feels full the second the guys awaken, but the feeling of butterflies when I look at Jacques is new.
And I like it.
“Dinner should be ready soon,” I say, going back inside.
“What’s all this?” Jacques asks right away, looking at the kitchen table.
“Curse Breaking: 101. I’m going to give it a shot tonight. I know it won’t remove everything, but if it makes it so you can stay in the house during the day I’ll call it progress.”
“I agree,” Jacques says. “I’ll help you with it after dinner, if you’d like.”
“Thanks.” I look into Jacques’s eyes, remembering the way his lips felt on mine. I want to grab his hand, lead him upstairs, and have him kiss me again. This time, the sunrise won’t stop us.
But dinner does. The timer goes off, and I get dinner out of the oven before it burns. A few minutes later, we’re all seated in the dining room.
“What is your plan?” Gilbert asks.
“I’m going to wing it and see what happens.”
“Wing it?” Hasan questions.
“It means just try something without a plan, basically.”
“That’s not a plan.”
“It’s a plan to not have a plan,” Thomas tries, grinning. “Which is something I can relate to.”
