The celestial charts stared back at me, drawn with intricate detail, and with lovely penmanship. Slowly, I paged through the book, and gasped when I realized what I was holding.
It was a spell book.
But it was also so much more than that. The women of my family had made notes in the margins, adjusting spells, adding their insights, or even, like on one page, making a joke about another’s cooking. It was a journal. It was a grimoire. It was a family history of shared magick and love.
What a gift.
I couldn’t believe it had been tucked away for so long, and being the curious sort that I was, I was desperate to try a small spell. Just to see if any of this worked…
Just to see if I actually had this kind of magick.
I mean, I should, right? My name was right there, added to the book.
Paging through the various spells, I landed on one that seemed innocuous enough. A spell for truth-telling. I wasn’t sure who I’d use it on, but maybe I could just practice it? Just to see if anything, I don’t know, shifted in the air around me as I did.
Humming to myself, I studied the spell. It seemed simple enough. I needed to pick a small item to anchor the spell in the middle of my circle, and then do the incantation. If the person I needed to be truthful stepped inside the circle, the spell would activate.
Thinking, I popped up off the couch and picked up the acorn I’d taken inside with me after Bracken had thrown it at me. Laying it on the floor, I crossed the room and picked up the book. I then traced a large circle around the acorn with my foot, just setting the parameters of the spell even though I didn’t mark anything into the floor.
“Right, so the acorn roots the spell,” I murmured, standing there with the book in my hand. “I’ve got my circle. Now I just need to do an incantation?”
Reciting it to myself several times to make sure I had it straight, I stared down at the acorn, my back to the door, and began.
“Root of witness, bell of clear, bind the tongue, let truth be near.”
I repeated the spell, slowly and with intention, focusing on the words. Just as I was finishing the third round, a sound caught my attention.
A man stepped into the room, directly into my circle, and stared down at the acorn on the floor, a question on his face.
“No.” I gasped, my eyes widening as his face turned up from the floor, his eyes meeting mine.
“What are you?—”
“Torin.” I gawked.
“Not you,” Torin Cattanach, the man whose relationship I’d seemingly ruined, gaped at me in surprise. “Bloody hell, Liora, but you’ve gotten even more beautiful than the last time I saw you.”
“What? You think I’m beautiful?” It felt like a record scratching as awkward silence filled the room. The last time I’d seen Torin he’d been berating me for destroying his relationship with Avery.
“Wait. What?” Torin looked down at himself, askance, dismay on his face. “Did I just say that out loud?”
The truth spell.Shite, shite, shite.
“Um, aye, you did.” I pressed my lips together, suddenly very nervous. Torin wasn’t the type of man to play around with, if I remembered correctly. He was gruff, terse, and often downright short with people.
“That’s… odd. Damn it, why are you here? And what am I supposed to do with a freaking goddess living under my roof?” Torin’s face filled with horror, and he slapped his hand over his mouth, looking down at the acorn on the floor to where I stood, gaping at him, a thousand emotions running through me. “Bloody hell, woman, what have you done to me?”
CHAPTER FOUR
Torin
Liora …bloody… Webster.
My new tenant.
The universe must hate me. Not only did my favorite chainsaw break today, but I had to come home to… whateverthiswas.
A mess I’d created.