A Demon’s Book Of Shadows (Witches & Demons #1)

11. Lucy

11

Lucy

I barely slept a wink Halloween night. As soon as the sun rose, I propped myself up on my elbows in bed, too tired to get up and withdraw my curtains. I clutched my pillow as my time asleep cycled through me. My dreams were nightmares full of wickedness that I couldn’t escape from. I remembered standing at the edge of a field, watching the thunderclouds build as a storm blew in. The scent of lightning burned in the air as my magic brimmed in my fingertips.

In my nightmare, I flew over Midhaven, my feet dangling below me as I took to the night sky. It took me a moment to realize why I had fled. I had just discovered the truth behind my relationship with Jason. I was running from finding his hidden emails, and his text messages to other women.

As always, I found refuge in my library. When I entered the building, a cool blanket of mist tendrilled through the bookshelves. I followed the cooling sensation as it soothed the burning anger I felt from Jason’s betrayal. Shadows coalesced near the far bookshelf. A demon stood at the end, his hand outstretched .

Hunger swam in Amon's eyes like I’d never known in a man. The desire was not something I’d felt before. He wanted something beyond my body—he demanded my soul.

Then, I saw Dad out on the farm. He was climbing out of the well we used to go hunting for familiars nearby. Grubs sat on Dad’s shoulder—a villainous black shadow poured out of his body and coiled after me.

Sunday morning, I left Victoria’s house as soon as the sun was half-way up the sky. The grimoire was safely tucked into my tote, which I hadn’t attempted to open. Part of me still felt like discovering it was a dream. Or maybe that’s how I was feeling about Jason and had only now come to terms with it.

Thankfully, Victoria had gotten called into the vet clinic for an emergency, allowing me to escape a day of her questioning. Quite frankly, I didn’t want to have my eldest sister probing me about this demon who was haunting the library. All I knew was that I had a book that he wanted, and having it in my possession was quickly becoming a problem.

Should I toss it back into the hole beneath the bookshelf and act like I’d never discovered it?

Quite frankly, I was surprised Amon hadn't come to stalk me. Sooner or later, I was pretty sure that he would be searching for it. The name Amon, if that was his name, of course. The sound of it sent shivers up my spine. There was something so secretive about its sound, the way it tried to hide itself away in my brain. If only my annoying familiar would do the same .

I glanced up from the sidewalk, startled at the tree I could see from the next block over. Apparently, I’d made quick work of the sidewalk, already making it to Grace’s tiny house.

One of the shrubs lining the path trembled as a tiny green bug accordioned its way up a twig. “ There’s my witch! ”

The twig bowed, catapulting my familiar into the air. He landed with a soft thwop upon my book tote. “ Why are you carrying this nasty thing around ?”

“Well, it can't go back to the library.” I replied, reaching in and tugging him away from the grimoire.

He shimmied around my palm. “ Should I take a bite out of it ?”

“Absolutely not!” It took all of my strength not to flick my finger into his wriggling body.

He inched his way up my arm and perched atop my shoulder. A low rumbling sound emitted in my ear.

“You’re just hitching a ride because you want to pig out at the greenhouse,” I scolded him.

“ I had a feeling you were headed to see your sister. No more nasty Halloween candy. I'm eating a real lunch today !”

Grace’s residence came into view as I passed the grove of giant cottonwoods. This past summer, her home was nearly swallowed by the vines that exploded out of her greenhouse. Her property put off a bayou vibe, while simultaneously screaming ‘I’m a witchy hippie.’

Magical energy tingled up my arms and back. Grace’s property, like Victoria’s, was brimming with earth magic. I skipped up the stone steps, stopping at Grace’s tiny house. It definitely put off cottagecore vibes being painted green, with a roof she had painted red with white polka dots. Her mobile mushroom home was propped on a set of wheels, which had all started to rust. I remembered only two years ago, Grace had experienced what she called a mid-witch-crisis where she took the house out into the desert in Arizona, leaving Victoria and I wondering if she might ever return home.

I shifted aside the Virginia creeper and knocked on the lime green door. No answer. I shouldn’t be so surprised. Grace was rarely inside, unless she was doing homework.

Grubs inched closer to my ear as I swiveled on my heel and headed for the earthly abode tucked behind the tiny home. I could feel his aura tingling with anticipation as I approached his snacking opportunity.

The greenhouse was a community garden project that Grace spent her freshman and sophomore years of college reviving. With some magical TLC, and her portion of Dad’s inheritance, she quite literally brought a hunk of old plastic and metal beams back to life. The walls were made of foggy tempered plastic that could resist gale-force winds, and even hail storms. This past summer, a tornado touched down only a few blocks away. Somehow, Grace’s greenhouse didn’t suffer any damage at all. It was probably due to the fact that her greenhouse was haunted by familiars.

The door was ajar. The crispness in the air dissipated the moment I walked inside. I was bombarded with the aroma Grace would argue was the source of all familiar magic—the breath of decomposing earth—detritus .

The temperature immediately warmed as I approached the raised plant beds, some with pots lining them. While most normal flowers put off scents, Grace’s haunted greenhouse was full of plants that created sounds. Disembodied voices echoed through the humid air. It was always a hassle just trying to figure out how I should navigate the constantly changing greenery.

There were her boo bushes that went boo ! for no reason at all. There were also piles of popping leaves and walls covered in whispering vines. This past summer was a particularly bad season for what she called the symphony of sprillywigs , which involved the often flamboyant vocalized assault from her most precious spices.

Grace was a green witch, something I’d never be interested in pursuing. There were too many things that could bite or poison you. I’d rather find those stories in the books I was reading. Apart from having an incredibly magical green thumb, Grace also had a thing for soil speaking —a form of divination that involved retrieving information from the nature spirits who formed earth magic.

My tote ruffled. The temptation of everything in the greenhouse was too much for my hungry bookworm. As soon as he spotted one of her plants, he launched himself from my shoulder, diving into the leaves where he started to munch.

I spotted Grace’s bed bundle in the corner by the thyme. Something was wrong. She only slept in the greenhouse when she was unsettled about something.

Grace stood near a cactus that was half-alive, half-hollow. Something was likely living inside of the holes that lined the not as spiky side. The puffiness around the corners of her eyes meant one of two things. She was hung over, or had been crying.

“Hi Grace.” I walked up to her. The only thing separating us was the cactus, which started to wobble in its pot.

Her body language was just as prickly toward me. Grace was shy and reserved, even for a college student. Sometimes I wondered if she might be better suited as a librarian. But she was too devoted to the sensation of having damp soil embedded under her fingernails. Ever since high school, her mantra had always been soil, earth, and clay keeps the creeps away.

I spotted the flowers I thought only a few days ago were heading for the dumpster. Grace had a magical green thumb I was jealous of. I could barely keep a succulent alive, and here she was, making a half-dead cactus grow.

Her rumpled Target bag sat next to the pots. Only Grace would use her shoplifting magic to steal a bunch of potting soil. Plants bobbed next to her as she doused them with a healthy spray from a watering can.

“Weren’t you supposed to be partying with your college friends?” I asked.

Grace didn’t look up. She set down the watering can and stuck her hand into a pot. She turned over handfuls of soil instead, patiently, deliberately with every flick of her fingers and thumb, digging for hidden treasure through the moss.

“I got tied up doing homework,” she said, which I knew was a lie. Tending to her plants was her way of easing unspoken tension. One of the pumpkins next to her flashed from orange to a startling lime green. “I shouldn’t have changed my major again.”

“What’s this, your third time?”

“Fifth.”

“Do you ever want to graduate?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault that my allergies always seem to implode during the worst times possible. I'm pretty sure I'm going to flunk chemistry for the third time.”

I knew the time Grace was referring to. A couple of years ago, she spent a lengthy time at home for remote learning due to a flare-up with her allergies, which gave all of us a scare. She’d come so close to death, that Mom had to forbid her from going to class for an entire semester.

Grace sighed exasperatedly. “Don’t get me wrong, I love plants, even the ones I’m allergic to. But sometimes, I think they have their own thoughts and dreams that don’t require me.”

The pumpkins jostled as a hedgehog poked his prickly face out from them, seeming to be just as startled at the squash’s change in color. I realized Grace used the pumpkins as both a snack for the hedgehog, and a den. “That’s not true. If you didn’t water them, I’m pretty sure this entire greenhouse would die. Also, you really spoil the familiars you befriend, even the ones who are supposed to be wild.”

She laughed. “No wild familiar who enters my greenhouse ever wants to be wild again. And as for my plants, I’m pretty sure your bookworm alone would kill them. ”

Nostalgia flooded through me as I remember the bedtime stories Dad used to read to me. They often involved tales about how a witch found their familiar companions. “I wish Dad was still here. His stories always made me wonder how I could send Grubs back to whatever plane of existence he came from.”

“Dad would have been super proud seeing that you were actually writing a book inspired by his love for nature.”

Emotion swelled in my chest. Sharing my book with Dad was one thing I’d never be able to experience. Unless he came around the library, haunting me like Amon.

One of the plants shifted next to Grace. She set her hand out, catching a tiny arachnid as it slowly inched up her wrist.

“They still live in your old bedroom,” I said.

“Jumping spiders are the shit. They’ll even wear a raindrop hat for you if they’re feeling sassy.” She cradled her jumping spider companion in her hands. “Skittles, what did you do with the witch had I made you?”

Skittles hopped in her palm, bouncing between her fingers as he apparently had no answer to come up with.

I shook my head. I still didn’t understand how my sister convinced her jumping spiders to wear the paper mache hats she created for them. “So what did you do for Halloween then if you were doing, you know, homework ?” I asked, keeping a watchful eye on the spider in case it did decide to launch itself toward me.

Grace focused on the rapid leg movement of her newfound spider friend. “I don’t want to talk about it. ”

“Come on. It can’t be as bad as finding out your ex was seeing, six, no—” I flushed. Jason had been cheating on me with so many women, it hurt to count them.

“ Twelve other women ,” Grubs said, rubbing dirt into my wound.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Either we talk, or my grouchy bookworm will cut in.”

Grace’s head whipped around as she searched for him. “Great, you let the most invasive species of bookworm into my greenhouse? Do you know how long it took me to recover from the last time he munched through my death daisies?”

I shrugged. No use trying to hide him now.

“Months, Lucy!” Her honey-brown curls flew out from her shoulders as she threw both of her hands out to her sides. “Out!”

Grubs dove out of sight. “ Wait, I have gossip !”

Grace turned back to me, her eyebrow arching up. “What kind of gossip?”

“ Lucy’s library is being haunted by a demon ,” Grubs said. It took all of my effort not to launch my tote at the plants he’s hiding in.

“Is this the same demon you mentioned to Victoria and I earlier?” Grace asked, both of her eyebrows disappearing into her mossy bangs.

“ His name is Amon, and he’s bad juju beans. He also smells like dirty underwear. ”

“He was searching for this,” I reached into my tote, tugging out the book. I swear, the textures changed. It was now damp, putting off the scent of mildew, and the spine was almost slimy in spots.

Grace’s mouth popped open. “Wow. A grimoire? ”

I nodded. “Grubs swears he saw some spirit fly out of the book when I opened it at the library.”

“Why would a spirit be trapped in the book?”

“Victoria thought you might have some kind of magical plant that could help identify the name of the spirit who escaped the grimoire. She mentioned something about one of Mom’s old magical recipes, and ended up with beans? She was slightly drunk when she advised me.”

The plants around me drooped. Maybe it was a sign that the earth magic in the soil agreed with me.

Grace rolled her eyes. “Victoria doesn’t know what she’s talking about. She’s crazy. And the fact that she hasn’t even thought about how to keep you protected from this demon is what’s irking me.” A crazed look overcame my sister. The jumping spider in her palm skittered up her arm and launched into her plants. “I have just the thing that might be able to help you.”

She walked over to a pot not far from me and turned it over. Out popped a dark green seedpod that resembled a rotten pineapple. “My lucky seedpod, just where I left it!” Grace cried, holding up her prize.

“You’ve been watching too much Hocus Pocus,” I teased.

“Hey, Victoria plays that movie on rerun the entire month of August. She’s obsessed with Summerween. I’m pretty sure I have the entire movie memorized.” Her eyes dipped to the grimoire. “Bring that book over here. Things are about to get dirty.”

I did as told, stopping at Grace’s side. A wooden sign stuck out of the compost that read :

Here Lies The Home Of The Screaming Death Beans

“Set the book in the compost,” she instructed as she gathered the seed pod.

I hesitated. “Are you serious?”

“Just do it!”

I cringed. Had it been any normal library book, I would have screamed. But this thing, it looked like it crawled out of a grave. Maybe that’s where it needed to return.

I set the book on the pile of rotting vegetables, eggshells, and detritus, half expecting a gnarled hand to come clawing its way out.

Grace opened the seedpod, which exuded a musk so foul, I thought Grubs had released one of his noxious fart clouds. She set three of the screaming death beans, which were oddly square in shape, around the book, then resumed her place next to me. She thrusted her arm toward me. “Grab my hand, and ask with me. The beans will whisper first before they scream.”

I grabbed Grace’s free hand.

She tossed the remaining beans in the empty pot sitting above the book, their husks clattering against terra-cotta like runes. Raising her hand, she took mine into the air and chants out a spell, “Spirits of the earth, I summon thee. Reveal the name of the spirit tied to Amon who is now free.”

An explosive pop, followed by a simmering fwwisssshhhhh filled the greenhouse. The plants released more than oxygen. They had voices, and they were singing. The voices left my ears ringing .

I closed my eyes and stared into the back of my eyelids, waiting for something to happen.

A rancid smell filled the greenhouse, leaving Grace and I fanning our faces.

Kiiiisssssshhhhhhhh …

Grace clapped her hands together as the rancid beans expelled a plume of noxious purple gas into the air. “It’s simple. You have to kiss him.”

“What did you say?”

“The only way to reveal the name of the spirit tied to this book is to kiss Amon.”

“Why would I kiss this demon, when he’s been nothing but a pain in the ass to me?”

“You want to get rid of him, right?”

“That’s why I have two sisters who practice magic to help me.”

Grace wiped the excess soil from her hands back into the pot. “Nope. This is on your turf, not mine. You need to set some boundaries with him, not I. Besides, I can imagine kissing him would be a lot better than kissing your ex.”

I cringed. The last thing I wanted to do was think about the horrible aftertaste Jason left in my life.