A few Low Society necromancers were self-taught to maximize what little power they had inherited. Even rarer was the prodigy whose natural power propelled them to High Society status. But, as much as it pained Amelie to have any limits imposed upon her, that was not the case for either of my friends.
“No.” I propped my elbow on the table and my chin in my palm. “Why would that matter?”
“Let’s try an experiment before I answer.” He sketched out an unfamiliar design on a fresh sheet of paper. “This sigil muffles sound.” I winced at the reminder of how I woke him. “The most common usage is insulating the walls of homes in predominantly human neighborhoods. I want you to draw it for me.”
I shook out my hand and gave it a go. The lines were simple, and it only took a minute to complete and then check against the original. “Ta-da?”
Linus claimed each paper then held them in opposite hands while he compared the finished products. His brow creased as his gaze flicked back and forth. “Do these sigils look identical to you?”
“I’m out of practice,” I groused, “but it’s not that bad. You’re acting like you can’t tell they’re meant to be the same thing.”
“No, I’m trying to understand.” He held them up, side by side, facing me. “These are not identical. They’re the same at their core, but yours incorporates a flourish. Mine are standard, unembellished. It’s a habit picked up from teaching that makes it easier on my students.” He flipped the pages over, facing him, and studied them again. “Fascinating.”
“Is fascinating a good thing?” Right now, it sounded like a polite way of saying Maud had been right to condemn me to a life as an assistant rather than as a practitioner.
“Mother was wrong about your blood,” he said distractedly. “It’s not just that, it’s this too. Your mind…” He shook his head then tucked the papers away, no doubt saving them for later deliberation. “I’m starting to understand why Maud kept us separate even when we studied the same lessons.”
“She didn’t want anyone else to see what I see.” A frown sank into place. “Do you think this is the reason she enrolled me in human school?”
As much as I longed to hear him say yes, that her decision was a protection and not a condemnation, I couldn’t shake those engrained insecurities that came from being told by one of the world’s most gifted practitioners that I wasn’t enough.
“No one can know for sure, but it seems likely given what we’ve learned.” He crossed the room, and I lost track of him behind the trunks. “I wish we had access to her library. She must have made notes about your condition. She could never leave a good puzzle unsolved. Reading those would help us understand how your brain functions, how your blood works. We could save time building on her knowledge.”
“The basement won’t open for me.” I hammered my heel against the nearest chair leg, but it did nothing to dispel the frisson of unease shivering through me. “It’s the one room Woolly can’t manually unlock.”
Going down there hadn’t ranked high on my priority list until the Grande Dame explained what it meant that I was goddess-touched. That’s when it hit me that whatever Maud had known, I had to know too. I hadn’t tried breaking the wards. Yet. Assuming they could be jimmied. Given how determined Maud had been to hide my nature from me while she was alive, I was willing to bet the extra layers of security activated after her death wouldn’t crumple under a lock-breaker sigil and a few swipes of my brush.
Odds were good Linus could batter his way into her inner sanctum. He was an apt pupil, after all. But once the wards came down, I had nothing to replace them, and I couldn’t afford to leave the library vulnerable.
“That’s too bad.” Wood scraped over metal in the direction Linus had gone. “We can add that to our to-do list.”
Mentally, I scratched that right out. There would be no witnesses when I descended those stairs for the first time post-Maud, and that meant I had to figure it out on my own.
“I hope you don’t mind.” Linus reappeared with a rectangular bundle wrapped in butcher paper. A wide burlap ribbon banded around its middle, and a white wax seal had been pressed to its seam. “I brought you a gift.”
“What is it?” I accepted the parcel and weighed it in my hands. “It’s heavy.”
“Open it.” He leaned a hip against the table. “I commissioned it for you a few months ago.”
Startled by his casual mention of the timeline for my release, I forgot what I had been about to do.
“Mother lobbied for over a year to have you exonerated,” he explained. “I had time to prepare.”
Too bad I hadn’t been given the same forewarning. A spark of hope goes a long way in the dark.
“You can always save it for later.” His hands sank deep in his pockets. “You don’t have to open it now.”
But he had put time and effort, and likely a good bit of money, into buying this for me. The way he kept pushing his glasses up his nose before they got a chance to slip told me he was excited to see my reaction. He had done the same thing as a boy each time he picked up a new mystery novel from the library.
“I’m curious what’s put that look on your face,” I admitted as I tore into the package then froze with numb fingers. A shudder of revulsion rocked me, and I had to fight my instinct to drop the thing onto the table. “This is, um, wow. You shouldn’t have.”
I stared at the grimoire, and the grimoire stared right back.
Exposure to light caused its nine eyes to squint after so long in its wrapping. The cover was a patchwork blend of black and brown leather in varying shades that had been stitched together with broad thread. The hide was smooth in places and rough in others. I peeked at the underside and found it sewn from similar scraps, these covered in lumpy warts. Cracking open the cover, I flipped through the hundreds of pages of crisp, white paper awaiting my mark then set it back on the counter.
“What’s it made of?” I rubbed my finger between two yellow eyeballs with slitted, vertical pupils, and its lids fluttered with pleasure. “It’s…livelier than the ones Maud used.”
Crimson leather with gold inlay was more her style. Even in that regard, she had been a traditionalist.
“A number of things I imagine.” He tapped the corner. “A goblin who consults for Strophalos makes them from creatures who have been condemned to death by Faerie.”
“You know an actual goblin from actual Faerie?” The fae were ruled by the Earthen Conclave in this world. That was the governing body the Society brushed against when fae caused issues for necromancers. But the location of their home realm, and how they accessed this one, was a secret fae immigrants guarded with their lives. “Have you ever seen him without glamour?”
“Yes, and no.” Linus straightened. “Contact with the fae is forbidden outside contracts negotiated between our solicitors, so I’m not allowed to speak to him directly. I’ve never actually met him.”
About what I’d expected to hear but still comforting to learn that even the vaunted Lawson reach was limited.
“Well, thank you.” The thing was so ugly, it was almost cute. “It was kind of you to think of me.”
“Ah.” He held up a finger. “You haven’t asked what it does.”
I examined it for clues. “Other than blink creepily?”
“Write a combination sigil, something basic, but leave a quarter of it unfinished.”
I did as he instructed then waited for the magic to happen.
“Close the book.” He gave it about thirty seconds. “Open the cover.”
“The book completed the sigil,” I marveled. “How?”
“More eyes on a problem make for less work.”
I laughed under my breath. “That is such teacher logic.”
He shuffled my quiz papers into a neat stack then turned to carry them back to the office. I captured him by the wrist, and his pulse jumped under my fingertips. Wisps of black clouded his eyes when he glanced back until he blinked them clear, and I loosened my grip.
“Thank you,” I said again, meaning it this time. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“I wanted to,” he countered, holding so still he seemed to enjoy being caught. “I want to help you, Grier.”
Him and everyone else with something to gain, but all this help was five years too late in coming.
“I should go.” I released him and stood in a rush, snagging the grimoire at the last moment. I couldn’t afford to forget why he was here or who had sent him. “This—” I gestured around the mess we’d made in the kitchen, “—was nice.”
His gaze dipped to the chair I had vacated. “What are you doing for breakfast tomorrow?”
Boxes of oatmeal, all bought on clearance, awaited me in the pantry. “Reconstituting dried fruit?”
“Would you consider joining me?” Linus still hadn’t glanced up from my seat. “I have bacon.”
How could I say no to that? “Are nightly pop quizzes going to be a thing with us?”
A smile flirted with his lips. “It’s not a pop quiz if I warn you ahead of time.”
Flushing because he was right, and I wanted to impress him despite the nagging voice warning me not to care what he thought of me, I darted through the door into the cool garden before I stuck my foot in my mouth again. I might eat a lot of PB&J, but toe jam was not my favorite flavor.
Two
I was kneeling on the grass, pinching the drowsy heads off a row of peonies, when a curvy Indian woman about my height cranked open the side gate leading into the garden. She strode through the four connected archways dripping with fragrant jasmine and clusters of lavender wisteria to stand before me. Her outfit of tight black tee and fatigues clued me in to her identity seconds before her boot swung at my head.