My brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know where it is.”
Is she lying? Does she know a way around the truth spell?“Tell me the truth!”
“I am! It was stolen.”
I loosen my hold on her. “Stolen? Then… it’s not here.”
She shakes her head, her wings drooping.
My heart sinks, and my magic lowers us both to the floor. If the Grimoire isn’t here, then I’ve done all of this for nothing. “Why didn’t you say so at the start?”
“That would mean admitting I allowed one ofthemost dangerous books of sorcery out into the world,” she whispers. “The other angels don’t know it’s gone. I would lose my head if they found out.”
I consider her with some pity. Angels might have a reputation as pure and just beings, but they’re ruthless in the face of failure.
“Who took it?” I ask, relying on the truth spell to force her to tell me.
“Mother Kadris.”
My forehead creases. Mother Kadris is a myth, nothing more.
My mother told me bedtime stories about her. Well, not so much bedtime stories as cautionary tales. Mother Kadris was a witch who offered favors in exchange for people’s souls. The way the story goes, she wanted to achieve eternal life, but her actions backfired when a favor she granted led to the loss of the one she loved.
I shake my head with disbelief. “Mother Kadris doesn’t exist.”
“She’s real. She was here.”
I search Iriel’s eyes for the truth. Her earnest expression tells me she truly believes Mother Kadris is real. Either way, it’s clear The Blessed Grimoire has been stolen bysomeoneand that someone could very likely be the most formidable witch in our history. Perhaps I should be worried, but all I feel is more determined. “Then I need to find her.”
Iriel’s pupils constrict with what appears to be a strange mix of fear and excitement. “I heard a whisper that she can only be found once each year in a place where the monsters gather. You can only go if invited…” She leans forward, no longer pulling away from me. “To a ball that I would gladly kill to attend.”
I inch away from her, the sudden dark desire in her eyes making me shiver. I want to break the contact as soon as possible now. “You mean The Monster Ball?”
She nods.
I narrow my eyes at her. The Monster Ball is another myth. Or at least… I think it is. Even if it’s real, Iriel is right: I need an invitation and I’m not likely?—
“You will get one,” she says, shocking me with her declaration. “The brokenhearted always do.”
“That’s enough.” I release her from the spell and quickly mutter, “Perfect power pardon this place from my presence.”
Iriel is in such a hurry to put away her wings before the humans see them that I make it five steps away before she attempts to follow after me.
I break into a quick stride, and she abandons her chase as soon as I draw attention from the students studying at the nearby desk. She won’t want to make a scene that could lead to explanations about the lost Grimoire.
I race down the staircase past the lion statues, cringing as their frozen eyes fling silent accusations at me for invading this place of learning. I can only hope Iriel’s prediction is correct.
If the stories are true, The Monster Ball takes place on All Hallows’ Eve, which is only two nights from now.
A shiver of excitement flows through me.
The Monster Ball is a place where guests leave their inhibitions at the door—something I’ve never done. I’ve always thought ahead, planned, assessed each situation before I act, protective of the people I love, knowing that my actions and choices can endanger them.
But at The Monster Ball… freedom beckons. A night without consequences. There are many stories about The Proprietor of the Ball. Nobody knows for sure what’s true and what isn’t. Some say she’s an all-seeing being with immense magical power. I suspect she has spies everywhere just like the assassins do.
No matter, all I can hope is that Iriel’s prediction will come true.
