I hop a little for leverage and snatch the book out. It’s worn and old, but in good condition for its age. The cover is black leather with wear spots that reveal brown. It’s embossed with a sun and moon at the center, and right in the middle of both is just one word.
Spells.
twelve
Secret Spell Book
It’s too dark to see the book well, so I step closer to the back door and hold it up to the old glass, letting the early sun illuminate it.
The word “Spells” seems to shimmer with opal light. I trace the word with my fingers and the glimmering intensifies. It’s drawing me in. Asking me to open it.
Or maybe I’m going crazy.
Is this some kind of trick, or did I just stumble onto the coolest find ever?
I glance over my shoulder to check the stairs, just to see if Bastian is lingering. There’s a shadow on the wall on the midway landing, but it doesn’t look like him—or a man for that matter—and it doesn’t move. Must be a trick of reflected light.
I turn the book and look at the edges, then run my finger down the worn, smooth pages. Aged paper is a thing, but this book isn’t going for the Dark Ages kind of aged paper where it’s purposefullymisshapen. No, it’s obvious that someone took care in creating the book, but the papers were cut by hand. They’re not all the same width, or color.
A leather cord wraps around the tome twice, then twists around a bronze knob on the front, holding the book closed. The string is soft and weathered like the rest of the book. There are worn spots from where it’s been touched and held in the same way many times.
A loud clatter from the shop makes me jump and I hear Aaron mutter a curse. I glance at the shadow on the stairs.
It hasn’t moved…
I shake off the adrenaline and focus on the book.
My hand moves as if by a summoning, unwinding the cord from the metal knob. The opal sheen of the letter spreads across the cover of the book, and brightens at the edges. My eyes are unfocused as I run my finger over the side of the cover, past the metal knob. A sharp prick on my finger makes me blink, regaining some awareness.
There’s a little needle sticking out beside the metal knob, and it’s glistening with my blood.
“Shit,” I curse, sucking on my index finger.
Why would someone put a freaking needlerightthere?
I use my middle finger to open the cover…
But it doesn’t open.
It’s as if it’s glued shut, all the way down.
My hope falls.
“So, it is a trick.”
“No,” Bastian says behind me and I gasp.
I whirl and look to the stairs. The shadow is gone.
“It wants your blood,” he says, behind me again somehow.
I twist around to see the black shadow beside the door. It’s amorphous and blobby, but it has golden glowing eyes.
I squint at it. “Basty boy?”
The golden eyes squint back.
“Are you in the wall?” I whisper, touching the mark.
