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

17. Lucy

17

Lucy

I sat up in bed, dazed beyond reason. Whatever happened at the bar had to be a nightmare. No way had a simple kiss done what it did to me.

I also had another vision of that haunting tree. . .

In the vision, a little girl stood by gnarled roots that arched unnaturally. She had red hair and a pretty green dress. The smell of roses permeated the air as she tried to ascend the tree.

She called out someone’s name, which escaped me.

Water appeared out of nowhere, flooding the ground in an instant.

The next thing I knew, I was falling. . .

Everything pierced right through me like a thorn from a rose bush. The vines were everywhere. Dad was there, walking away from me.

I leaned over my bed, my stomach trying to turn in on itself. What did the nightmare mean? The moments all juxtaposed with one another, echoing and bashing against my skull. I vaguely remembered leaving the bar last night with Victoria .

I remembered Krim stepping in, then some woman began screaming. Why did her voice sound like the little red-haired girl in my dream? Her voice is high and shrill, like glass shattering. In the midst of vines exploding out of her body, someone said her name.

Melrose .

Her name sent shivers up my spine.

As soon as I heard it, Amon forced me back into some dark tunnel I couldn’t escape from. Amon’s taste from our gloriously dark kiss still lingered on the back of my tongue. His shadow clung to me like a satin curtain that refused to let me go.

My phone chimed.

Fuck .

It was Monday. I was pretty sure I needed to open, as Eve was on vacation. Jumping out of bed, I tugged on a pair of leggings, a cami and cardigan. Somehow, I felt naked.

My gaze dropped to my tote resting on the ground. It was empty.

The book, where is it?

I grabbed my tote, flipping it over. Like magic, it vanished.

Shit .

Had Amon tricked me? Did he take it?

I scrambled downstairs. A note from my sister was pinned on the refrigerator.

Had an emergency surgery on a parakeet. Will be home for lunch if you want to discuss what happened at the bar. Text me.

Texting Victoria was the last thing I wanted to do right now. Grace’s greenhouse was in the opposite direction of the library, but I really wanted to talk with her. Did kissing a demon make magical items they desired go poof into thin air? Something told me I shouldn’t have listened to one of her magical plants, because now my ears wouldn’t stop ringing. I could hear their little voices, almost laughing at me.

The last thing I needed to see right now was a shadow tendrilling across the ground.

Amon manifested, his black boots hitting the damp pavement on the sidewalk. He crossed his arms in front of his chest as his gaze leveled with me. His dark eyes were swimming with questions and fury. “Why did you kiss me?”

His voice was like a cold wave of salt water breaking over my body. I staggered backward, overcome by the force that wanted to wash me away, or envelope me.

“I thought kissing you would get rid of you,” I replied, suddenly wishing I hadn’t pressed my lips to his. I could still taste him. What kind of spell was I under? Why did I ever take advice from a bunch of screaming death beans?

I wanted him to kiss me again and again . I wanted him to pin me against the bookshelf and—

“Lucy,” he said, breaking my fantasy. “Where did you get the advice that kissing a demon would get rid of him?”

“How about a bunch of screaming death beans?”

He pinched his furrowing brow. “And I thought your grouchy bookworm was a pest. Well, now we’re both screwed. The demon I mentioned that’s more powerful than me? The Bone Threader is a wendigo, and he’ll devour more than the bodies of his victims. He devours the magic of both witches and demons.”

I froze, suddenly paralyzed at his words. Devouring magic? Why would a demon want to do that?

I stomped my foot. “Wait just a minute. You told me to bring the book to the bar. How was I supposed to know some crazy ass witch would come and steal it and piss off some wendigo?”

Amon’s gaze hardened.

I dug my heels into the ground. “Do you know where the grimoire is?”

“Melrose stole it after you kissed me. If we don’t retrieve the grimoire from her, the Bone Threader will do to your library what he’s already started to do to the shadow archives.”

“Wait, what would he want with my library?” I yelled, anger rising in my chest. “The books I deal with don’t have magic locked inside of them. Why would the Bone Threader want to devour them?”

Amon’s eyes darkened. “It doesn’t matter if your books house magic or not. You are a witch, and you’ve been handling non-magical texts for some time. Your magic is all over your library, not to mention you have the help of your gluttonous little sidekick to help spread your magic all over the books.”

“I don’t understand.”

Amon reached into his pocket, tugging out a small leather bag. He tipped it over, spilling rose petals. “I tried to poison your little maggot with rose petals Melrose bewitched, hoping to keep him away from the grimoire. Instead, he led Melrose right to it.” He stuffed the bag back into his pocket. “Now you need to fix this. ”

“Wait just a fat second. How do I need to fix something that you went and made worse? Hasn’t anyone told you not to feed a bookworm anything magical?”

“He’s your familiar. Speaking of the maggot, where is that little dick?”

I folded my arms across my chest. “No idea. And good luck trying to find him when he’s gone into chrysalis. It could be weeks before he turns up. The last time he metamorphosed, I didn’t see him for over a month.”

Amon’s teeth bared. A vein in his neck throbbed as some of his thick dark hair fell in front of his eyes. He looked exactly how I felt.

I threw my hands out to my sides, balling them into fists. “Look, I still have no idea why I should care about this grimoire, or why I should even try to help you get it back. Who wrote it and why do you care so much about it?”

Amon blinked. “My parents wrote it together. Their magic was bound within its pages. I owe it to them to return it to the archive where it belongs.” He dropped his arms to his sides, mimicking my posture. “I need to know. What was it that you saw in your vision of the tree?”

“A pair of spooky white eyes, why?”

“Look past them,” he demanded, and I was sucked into his gaze. The shadows drifting in his eyes held a force too powerful for me to look away. “What else did you see?”

I shivered. It wasn’t what I saw . It was what I felt that still haunted me.

Dad was walking away.

I remembered the day Mom got the call from the hospital. The day I thought my lungs had caved in.

The day I learned dad was gone.

My eyes burned as I turned away from him. “I’m not going to help you retrieve the grimoire. I don’t care anymore.”

Amon took a step toward me. “You do care. Why do you think your magic is reacting?”

I glance down at my fingers, which had gone numb with cold. My fingernails put off a dull purple glow. “You can’t make me.”

“I’m not asking you, I’m telling you,” he pressed. “The magic we are dealing with is too powerful for a witch who isn’t practicing magic to—”

“—I stopped practicing when he. . .” my breath caught. “I saw my dad walking away from me. I stopped practicing magic when he died.” My lungs made the same quivering movement I felt seven years ago. “It was a vision of death, a memory of him dying.”

Amon’s eyes softened. “Now I understand. The tree of shadows guards death. It is death that connects the three magics.”

When he turned, my hand flew out to touch him. “Please, I don’t want to be alone right now,” I requested. Why I requested this of him, I didn’t know. My body wanted to curl up and desperately be alone.

He stopped short enough for my fingers to brush by the tattoo on his forearm. It was damp with the cold feeling I’d spent the past seven years running from. “You’re bleeding.”

Amon flexed his arm. “This cut is nothing compared to what a wendigo can do to you. Melrose has thorns. The Bone Threader has teeth that will rip right through you.”

Even though his words were supposed to scare me, I felt numb. “Where are you going?” I asked, pulling my fingers away from his arm.

“I’m going to talk with that boy you were tutoring. His appetite is going to become a problem if I don’t confront him now.” Amon’s shadows enveloped him, leaving me alone once again.

My stomach knotted. The boy had been hungry when I’d tutored him. Was he really this Bone Threader who was threatening to devour my library?