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

19. Lucy

19

Lucy

The first week of November was a hazy mess of frustration and frost as autumn crept into town. An unsettling ache lingered in my bones. The last discussion I had with Amon was a week ago. It was Sunday afternoon, and the boy I had tutored last week had not shown up. Maybe it was a fluke that Amon suspected that he was really a wendigo.

I’d spent the past week working at the library in a haze about everything I’d experienced since Halloween. There had been discussions about a demon that was threatening to devour something Amon called the shadow archives. I was starting to think that demons were as flaky as men when it came to anything book, or magic related. So why the hell was I even thinking about the R word right now?

The last thing I needed to fantasize about was a relationship. . .

I busied myself in my morning ritual, preparing myself some toast for breakfast. Since Victoria had been in and out of the vet office so much, I’d been put in charge of feeding the hedgehogs.

My phone chimed. New message notifications filled my screen. My Outlook flooded with emails, stating that for the next few weeks, I had no story time bookings.

What the hell was going on?

I grabbed my tote and made my way down the street. I nearly tripped as my boots caught a deep groove in the pavement.

I staggered forward, catching myself as I rounded the corner. I didn’t remember seeing so many gouges on the sidewalk yesterday.

A sign was posted on the library’s front glass door.

LIbrARY CLOSED DUE TO CONSTRUCTION. DANGEROUS SINKHOLE DISCOVERED.

I read the last line again. “A sinkhole ? Seriously?”

Either Grubs had tunneled his way to China to chrysalis, or the universe just plain hated me. With him gone, and no library to return to work, I was a sitting duck. I got the feeling I wouldn’t be going back to work until this grimoire business was settled, meaning one thing.

I had to interact with Amon, whether I liked it or not.

Like Grubs, Grace had gone and disappeared on one of her random camping trips she said was for a species identification exercise for her botany class. I knew it was really an excuse to capture and bring home more familiars who would enjoy her plant collections. She had tasked me with watering the plants in her greenhouse.

I had nothing better to do, anyway. I was trying to stay out of Victoria’s way as much as possible. Apparently, she got so hammered at the books and bake event, she didn’t remember how either of us ended up back at her house .

I reached the greenhouse just as the sun was rising. I wanted it to warm up a bit and burn off the morning fog. The earth was brimming with energy, the kind that made a witch drowsy with a false sense of security. While the soil worked its magic on my nerves, I internally planned on how I was going to tackle the load of chores Grace had given me.

I grabbed a shovel and dug it into the compost pile. The dirt was hard, like it hasn’t been turned over in years. My sister didn’t judge the health of her plants by how much water they needed. She monitored their growth with aura readings . Grace always told me that plants could tell you more about how they felt simply with colors.

Her Vibes chart was hanging on the far wall. A handwritten aura diagram highlighted a few words: The Forbidden Blooms . It looked like some moth had gotten a hold of the edges and devoured what had been written below.

Water too much, and I get extra weepy.

We are screamy.

Don’t forget to prune weekly, or I get awfully smelly.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. Mom texted me.

I got a notification that the library is closed until further notice. Something about a sinkhole? Is magic involved? I guess I won’t be able to rely on you bringing me my book holds. Also, Victoria tells me you have a new boyfriend ?

My face flushed. I really wanted to slap Victoria upside the head now.

Another message from mom came through.

We need to talk. Do your old lady a favor and run an errand for me.

What errand?

Those things from the greenhouse Grace calls silly sprigs? Can you bring some? Make sure you grab the slightly yellow ones. I want to bake up a fresh batch of muffins.

I’m on it.

Mom’s living arrangements weren’t far. It had been at least a couple of weeks since I had gone to visit her. Shame on me . She lived in an old Victorian home similar to my sister’s house a few blocks away. The trees in her neighborhood were less mature than what grew around Victoria’s home, so a few years ago, mom began planting. Her house was the only house on the block with hedges that weren’t junipers. Despite the Midwestern environment, she somehow convinced her own hedges of dragon trees to grow. Judging by the wilted state of her plants, I’d say she was also behind in her winterization ritual.

I walked up the flagstone pathway, passing the lilac bushes that had yet to be cut back. A circle of stone mushrooms Grace created in one of her sculpture classes sat beside the path. They spiraled around a bird bath I gave mom a few summers ago.

The sound of booming music echoed from inside the house.

I reached the green front door and knocked.

The music died.

“Oh no, it’s the bookworm!” A woman cried behind the door. Mom’s roommate was spunky beyond her years, and even though the doctors told the seventy-something ex-nurse to use a walker, she refused. The last time Alba was given unsolicited advice by her doctor, she rebelled and spent the afternoon chasing me around the living room on her new pair of roller skates.

Alba opened the door and let me inside.

“Alba? Where’s mom?” I asked, walking into the home that smelled like a perfume bomb went off. Goddess, I hoped I wouldn’t be stuck living like this when I was older. I’d rather live alone than with women who smelled like bad floral soap.

“She’s already in the kitchen setting up shop,” Alba replied.

I stepped sideways. No roller skates today. But Alba definitely had a new trick up her sleeve I knew she was dying to share with me.

“I got a trampoline, you know, one that’s meant for cracked up old ladies like me? I’ve been trying to figure out how to get into the pool next door,” Alba said, her face lighting up.

I laughed. “Remind me to join you when summer rolls around. ”

“Lucy? Is that you?” Mom’s voice sounded from down the hall.

“Cindy, your daughter has arrived!” Alba returned to the living room and flipped on the TV. The music I’d heard blaring resumed, along with a workout video of greasy bronze men wearing nothing but yellow banana hammocks.

My magic flared as I walked into my mother's kitchen. Goddess magic knew when goddesses of the same kin were about. I felt the tug guiding me into the kitchen as my mother’s aura pulled me toward her.

Dad used to say that she was a lightworker—a special witch who helped people find their way through their darkest of days.

Mom turned, a messy brown bun flopping atop her head. She wore a yellow apron with a giant acorn on the front. Even though she was pushing sixty, she had more hair than any of her daughters. She refused to cut it, but looped it up into a messy braid atop her head.

Her eyes met mine, and magical sparks spilled out of her like an exploding firework. Mom could read my aura better than any of my sisters. I could tell from how her magic was reacting that she was reading something very detailed on me.

She clapped her hands to her cheeks, sending white puffs of baking powder into the air. “Oh, he’s a keeper!”

I shook my head. Here she was, making assumptions about my demon boyfriend before I’d even acknowledged his existence. “Where do you want the sprouts? ”

“Right here is fine,” Mom replied. She motioned toward her bamboo cutting board, which was already loaded with cheese and spices.

She trailed her wooden mixing spoon through the air. “There is definitely some emotional turmoil going on. I haven’t seen you this upset since high school, when that guy who worked at Hot Topic didn’t give you the nose piercing you wanted.”

Her energy popped and sizzled over me as she practiced one of her ‘aura cleansing’ techniques. Meanwhile, I was having embarrassing flash-backs about the horrible idea of ever impressing a guy by getting my nostrils pierced.

Mom’s gaze dropped to the sprouts I dug out of my tote. “Ah, those look healthier than the last time Grace experimented with banana peels and mushrooms in her compost! I try to avoid her greenhouse this time of year. My last encounter with her sprillywigs involved me getting cussed at.”

After I set the sprouts down on the table, I plopped down on the stool across from Mom. “Things have been interesting over the past week. Victoria is busy with work and Grace is gone. Grubs has also ghosted me.”

“Leaving you to spend time with this new boyfriend of yours, I hope?” Mom asked as she grabbed the sprouts and began dicing them up with a knife. I swore some of them sizzled as they fell into the bowl full of sugar and eggs .

“Mom. . .”

“What? His aura is all over you! I can practically feel that kiss he,” she gasped as she churned the ingredients. “Oh my, where did he kiss you?”

My belly warmed. The moment Amon’s thick, shadowy musk coalesced around me will forever be crystalized in my mind. Our kiss didn’t feel like any kiss I’d experienced before. I agreed with mom. It did more than linger.

“This energy feels so conflicted. Tell me about this kiss, and how it occurred,” Mom interrupted my thoughts as she whisked her eggs and sugar. “I’m just glad to see that you’re moving on from that Jason fellow.”

I set my elbows on the table, gazing at the eggs combining with sugar as Mom’s movements hypnotized me. I vaguely remembered Mom and Dad making this recipe when I was probably six. The scent of cinnamon, combined with their laughter, was pure bliss in my memory. Relationships really were like baking. All it took was for one wrong ingredient to go into the mix, and everything fell apart.

For me, it was the fact that Jason had been cheating.

Mom released the wooden spoon, but it kept spinning. A lot of her magic went into her time spent in the kitchen. She grabbed the bag of flour and measured out two cups, then poured it into the bowl. “I’m fairly certain my youngest won’t settle down until she’s found a partner who will bake with her. But you, on the other hand, you’ve found someone special. Tell me about this new boyfriend?”

“Demon,” I corrected.

Mom dropped the vanilla extract onto the table. “Is this a new fantasy of yours? ”

“No, Mom. He’s the real thing, a shadow-shifting spirit that you and Dad used to make up stories about.”

Mom’s eyes flashed. “That would explain all of the residual energy around you. You didn't see it coming when he kissed you.”

“That’s not how it went down. I kissed him.”

Mom’s spoon went flying, sending muffin batter into the air. “Why would you kiss a guy you barely know?”

“Because I was dumb. Grace had some crazy experiment going on in her greenhouse, and I listened to her. I was desperate. He’s been harassing me at the library for a month. I wanted to get rid of him.”

“You listened to one of Grace’s greenhouse experiments? Wow, you must have been desperate.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Mom’s expression softened. “Neither did I when I first started dating your father.” Warm daylight illuminated her face. The lines of grief made her look so stoic and beautiful as she aged. “Demons and witches have been enemies long before fairy tales were written. But we’ve also been forbidden lovers. The magic we possess is something they have long sought to win over. Why was he harassing you?”

“He was looking for a book, one that he’s been searching all over town for.”

Mom’s eyebrow arched. “Could this book be a book of shadows?”

I nodded. “I know that witches have long tapped into their inner goddess to find their magic in the earth. Familiars have been our companions to help us with this.” I flexed my hands, thinking of Amon’s cool, silky voice, and how his sound alone could make me see shadows drifting in my periphery. “I guess I’ve never asked about the shadow magic that demons possess. What are these shadows, exactly?”

Mom set both of her hands on the table. “A demon’s shadows are an extension of his soul. They are his primal nature, his artistic expression, all wound up into one.” Mom’s cheeks and chest crimsoned, turning nearly the same vibrant hue as her mixing bowl. “It is with a demon’s shadows that us witches can unleash the desires only known by our inner goddess.”

“What do you mean, desires?”

“You know, the things us women don’t usually discuss, unless you are Victoria. She’s very open about her sexuality and what she wants in the bedroom.”

My body heated. Suddenly, I felt like I was a tween getting the sex talk again.

Mom’s eyes dipped away from me as she continued in her mixing. “Demons are sinfully beautiful beings.”

“Did I hear something about forbidden lovers and desires?” Alba asked, skating by the kitchen.

“Alba, dear. My daughter and I are having a heart-to-heart. Come back later when the muffins are ready.”

Alba grumbled something about forbidden desires , then turned the music up full blast.

Mom waved her hand, sending one of her light incantations into the air. Her magic created a sound-proof barrier of shimmering dusty glass, which muffled the music. She grabbed a new spatula from the drawer and began mixing again. “I want to hear every detail about this demon.”

“His name is Amon. He’s one of three brothers who live in town.”

“He has brothers?”

“Yes. One of them owns Shadow Daddy’s bar up the street. I’ve met him, but not the other.”

Mom’s mixing became more furious. “What I want to know is why he has such a strong interest in my daughter.”

“Since when do you know so much about demons and this shadow magic they practice?”

“Your father and I have known they’ve lived among humans for a long time, blending in, finding opportunities to mix their shadow magic with a witch when an opportunity arises. Witch families have long mingled with their kind, producing children with magical abilities that would make Merlin look like a clown. Your father had family members I know for a fact had talents that allowed them to practice shadow magic.”

I squinted at mom. “Are you saying that Dad’s family has demon blood?”

Mom’s mouth curved down. “I know he did, and your father was ashamed of it. Every time I wanted to share that secret with my daughters, he became argumentative with me. So I swore to him that I would never share. But almost a decade later, here I am, breaking my promise.”

My shoulders stiffened. Dad wasn’t shady at all. He was the most kind, loving individual that when he left, our family of women nearly fell apart .

Mom grabbed my hand. “Your father had a love for all things small and insignificant. That’s why I fell in love with him.”

I saw the emotion in her eyes, but her voice didn't register.

“Lucy, you are so much like your father. He would be so proud of you. Stick by Crystal the witch. I have a feeling her story is what this world needs to hear. There are too many fairy tales out there that talk about magic, but they lack the best part of the story.”

“And what’s that?”

“That magic isn’t always the answer we’re looking for. That sometimes, we have to overlook something we believe to be magic for us to find value in it one day. If there was anything I learned from your father, it was to pay attention to the smaller things in life. Learn to read the subtleties that nature provides. It’s often the things we overlook that house the most magic.”

Alba waved her hands in the kitchen entryway.

Mom flicked her wrist, and her soundproof barrier evaporated.

Alba pointed her hand toward the hallway. “There is a tall, dark, and handsome gentleman at the door looking for Lucy?”