by Elle Adams
“Is there anything else you wanted to look for, aside from fairies?” I asked.
“Um…” She paused. “This is going to sound weird, but do you have a section in here on magical codes, and how to translate them? Not like the fairy language, but something a bit more specialist.”
The image of the journal flashed before my eyes. I hadn’t mentioned it aloud. She couldn’t know about it, right? “I think that would be Aunt Adelaide’s area.”
“All right,” she said. “It’s okay if not. Basically, a fairy left a note for me written in code, and I can’t read it. But I trust the person who left it for me, so it must be translatable.”
I might not be able to sense lies the way she could, but her tone rang with sincerity. “Okay, I’ll ask my aunt.”
Someone cleared their throat nearby. I turned around, unsurprised to see Aunt Candace lurking behind a shelf, pen and notebook in hand.
“That,” I said, “is my other aunt, Candace. She writes novels.”
“I dabble.” Aunt Candace walked into view, her pen and notebook vanishing as she did so. “Did I hear someone mention magical codes?”
“I have a note written in a code I need to translate,” said Blair. “I was told a library like yours might be able to help me work it out.”
“We don’t—” I began, but Aunt Candace interrupted.
“Yes,” she said. “We have a spell that can translate hundreds of common codes, including languages that don’t exist yet.”
“Yet?” echoed Blair. “How does that work?”
“I’m lost, too,” I said, equally bewildered. “What spell is this? Why did nobody tell me about it before?”
Aunt Candace tutted. “That’ll be my sister being secretive again, I don’t doubt. I’m sure she won’t mind me borrowing it.”
She pulled out her Biblio-Witch Inventory and tapped a word. At once, a large hardback book appeared in her hand in a flash of light. At least, I thought it was a book, until she pulled the cover back to reveal the inside of a box. “Not bad spellwork.”
“What is that?” I asked.
“There’s no need to sound so accusing,” said Aunt Candace, holding out her free hand. “Put the letter in here and the spell will work its magic.”
Blair pulled a roll of paper from her pocket and hesitantly handed it over to Aunt Candace. With an eager expression on her face, she dropped the paper into the box. When the lid closed, the whole book—I mean, box—glowed bright green.
“Is it supposed to do that?” I asked.
Instead of answering, Aunt Candace laid the box on the desk. “Leave it for twenty minutes or so. I’ll call you here when it’s done.”
I studied the box. A label on the cover said, Prototype. Do not touch. That means you, Candace. “Did Aunt Adelaide give you permission to borrow that?”
“What do you think?” She shook her head. “She’s been sitting on this for weeks. It’s about time we put it to use.”
I hope she’s tested it first. I could think of only one reason Aunt Adelaide would work on a top-secret spell which translated magical codes… to translate my dad’s journal.
Aunt Candace shooed Blair and me away. “Go and entertain yourselves elsewhere, the two of you.”
Giving my aunt a look telling her we’d be having words later, I walked with Blair towards the back of the ground floor. “I hope it works, but you might want to run for the hills when my Aunt Adelaide comes back and finds out her sister borrowed her spell.”
Blair winced. “I hope it doesn’t damage the paper. I only have one copy.”
“Nah, it wasn’t Aunt Candace who made the spell. If it was, I’d worry.” I halted in the Reading Corner. “I actually needed your help with something, if that’s okay.”
“Me?” Her brow furrowed. “Help with what?”
“I need you to help me question a book, using your lie-sensing ability,” I said. “That is… if it works on sentient books, anyway. We’ve tried everything else, and I’m not sure we have any kind of lie-detecting spell that works as well as your talent does.”
“Sentient?” Her eyes flared with interest. “I’ve never seen a sentient book before. But I guess you deal with that kind of thing all the time here.”
“It’s actually a new one for me,” I said. “The book Mr Spencer returned to the library before his death is under a sentience spell. There’s a chance it knows why he was killed, but it keeps throwing tantrums whenever any of us try to get answers from it. That was the book you heard screaming earlier. It might be that we’re wasting our time trying to question it, but I wondered if you might want to give it a try.”
“Sure. No problem.” Blair must know I hadn’t told her everything, if her lie-detecting ability could sense such things, but I’d piqued her curiosity. As far as I knew, she didn’t know anything about the vampires or anyone who’d have reason to target our books, so there was no danger of her telling tales.
Blair and I approached the classroom behind the Reading Corner. Aunt Candace had left the door locked, so I pulled out my Biblio-Witch Inventory.
“What’s that?” asked Blair.
I ran my fingertip down the page. “This is my family’s magical talent.”
I tapped the word open, and the door unlocked itself. I braced myself to hear screaming, but the book was silent. Okay. Good start. Just as long as Sylvester stayed away.
“Jet, can you wait outside?” I whispered to the crow.
“Certainly, partner!” My familiar flew down to land on a nearby shelf, shedding leaves from the fairy cave in the process. Meanwhile, Blair and I entered the room. Here goes nothing.
“You’re new,” said the book.
“It can see me?” Blair jumped a little. “How?”
“How do you think?” said the book. “I’m all-seeing.”
At least it wasn’t screaming this time. I moved closer to the table. “Would someone have a reason to commit murder to get their hands on you?”
“Yes. People will commit murder over anything.”
That’s not much of an answer.
“What do you contain information about?” I asked. “Dark magic?”
“Dark magic!” The book’s cover seemed to meld itself to the pages as Blair reached out a hesitant hand. “Don’t you touch me, witchling. I’ve had enough of being poked and prodded around.”
“We’ll leave you alone if you tell me if you know who murdered Mr Spencer.”
There was a long pause. “Do you expect me to know everything about every human who touches me?”
“That wasn’t an answer,” Blair said.
“What’s it to you?” said the book. “Murder indeed. Do you accuse all your books of inspiring deadly deeds?”
“No, but Mr Spencer called me on the phone and was in the middle of mentioning something about you when he died,” I said. “What was he saying?”
“I can’t read minds, idiot,” said the book.
“Oi,” said Blair. “That’s not very nice of you. How do we open you, then?”
The book snapped its pages like teeth, and she withdrew her fingers out the way. “You don’t.”
There must be a way. Mr Spencer must have known—not to mention at least one of my aunts.
“The book’s telling the truth,” Blair murmured. “Maybe it only opens for certain people.”
“Don’t you sound sure of yourself,” he said. “What’re you, then? Another witch, yes, but not just that.”
“Yes, I am.” Blair leaned in. “What are you, then?”
“A book.”
“Guess I walked into that one,” said Blair. “What information do you contain?”
“Nothing that would interest you.”
She frowned. “True. Huh.”
“You can sense truth from lies?” said the book. “I’m not playing this game. I quit.”
“Don’t be difficult.” I gave the book a stern look. “Why wouldn’t your information interest us? Answer me.”
�
��Would you like me to start screaming again?” said the book.
“Not really.” I sighed. “I think we’d better try again later.”
We left the room. At least I’d got a clue… of sorts. If Mr Spencer had a trick for opening the book and shutting it up, though, it was beyond me.
Sylvester sat on the bookshelf outside, tilting his head when Blair and I walked past.
“Hello,” said Sylvester. “New in town, are you?”
“Oh, he talks too?” said Blair.
“He does,” I said. “That’s Sylvester. He works for the library.”
“The library works for me,” he corrected, ruffling his feathers. “Poking that book again, were you? I’ve never seen a sentience charm so sharply crafted before.”
“Is that what it is?” I asked. “Can you undo the spell?”
“Me? I’m just an owl.”
“You know what I mean.”
“MIAOW.” Sky looked up at the owl with the most disapproving expression I’d ever seen on a cat’s face. Did the cat somehow sense that he wasn’t a real owl? He hadn’t had an issue with Jet at all.
“Miaow yourself,” said Sylvester. “We don’t allow cats in here.”
“There’s no rule against them,” I said, for Blair’s benefit. “Sylvester dislikes sharing his space.”
“We’re leaving,” Blair said hastily. “We’re just waiting for Rory’s aunt to finish translating something for me.”
“Stole Adelaide’s spell, did she?” Sylvester hooted with laughter. “This, I’d like to see.”
“Even you knew about it?” I shook my head at him.
“There’s nothing I don’t know,” the owl called after us as we walked back to the front desk.
“Here it is,” said Aunt Candace, waving her wand over the translator spell. “Ta da.”
The box sprang open. Blair reached into it and pulled out two pieces of paper. One was the original note, and the other was written in English. I caught the word fairy and averted my gaze. The paper must be important to Blair, but I wouldn’t pry into its contents, not when I had enough secrets of my own.
Blair clutched the paper and slipped it into her pocket. “Thanks. I’ll read it later.”
“You’re welcome,” said Aunt Candace. “Enjoy your stay. And please keep your cat to yourself.”
I looked down at Sky, who now sat on the desk, glaring at Sylvester.
“Sky,” said Blair, beckoning to her familiar. “C’mon. we’re leaving.”
The cat hissed, then hopped off the desk and followed her to the door.
“Would it be possible for you to talk to the other guests at the hotel if you see them?” I asked Blair. “Perhaps one of them knows how to open the book. Mr Blake might, since he and Mr Spencer knew one another.”
“I can try,” she said. “Mr Dreyer knows about old books, so he might know.”
“Mr Dreyer, the relic collector?” I said. “Not sure the book counts as a relic, but the two of them were talking the night before he died.”
Her eyes widened in understanding. “Sure. I can have a word with him. I’ll drop by tomorrow and let you know if I find anything out.”
“Cheers.” I waved goodbye to her. I’d considered asking Mr Blake if his friend had been able to read the book, but maybe I was better off letting Blair do the questioning. She seemed to have more experience than I did, with good reason, considering her lie-sensing power. And she wouldn’t have to be direct with her questioning, for the same reason. Any lie, however minor, might point her to the culprit.
Aunt Candace clucked her teeth behind me. “That’s one interesting friend you’ve made.”
I wheeled on the spot. The translator spell had vanished, as though it’d never existed. “Is Aunt Adelaide going to notice you borrowed her spell?”
“Oh, don’t get your knickers in a twist, Rory. I know for a fact she planned to use it on that blasted book as soon as it stopped screaming long enough.”
I folded my arms. “Good, because you probably just ruined her big reveal.”
“Big reveal? More like she forgot about it,” she said. “What with you people running around solving murders. Don’t think I didn’t hear you talking to that Blair.”
“She’s staying at the hotel. It’s hard not to get involved.” I shook my head. “We still need to work out who Mr Spencer was, why he died, and why he called me moments before his death.”
She clucked her teeth. “Pity we can’t get the dead to speak to us, isn’t it?”
That’s one way of putting it. Even the Reaper couldn’t, though it was starting to look like he’d need to stay involved in this case one way or another.
But was it possible to involve Xavier in my life without getting my heart tangled up in the process?
7
When I went downstairs the following morning, I found Estelle and Aunt Adelaide sitting at the kitchen table with the translator spell of all things. I stood there in the doorway, my mouth hanging open.
“There’s more toast over there,” said Aunt Adelaide. “And yes, I know Candace borrowed my spell yesterday. She and I had a little chat this morning.”
I glanced at the box. “Sorry. I should have stopped her.”
“There’s no stopping my sister when she’s on a mission,” said Aunt Adelaide. “Besides, I gathered the young woman’s request was important.”
“Yeah, but I’m glad it worked,” I said. “She didn’t even test it first.”
“Luckily, I did.” Aunt Adelaide gave the box a shake. “It doesn’t seem to be cooperating with me today. This is why I wanted to do some more testing before putting it to work.”
“On my dad’s journal?”
She gave me a brief glance, then the box spat a few green sparks into the air. She waved her wand, coughing. “As you can see, it needs some more fine-tuning.”
I held my breath against the burning smell and moved the coffee pot out of reach before a spark fell into it.
“We’ve found out more about this Mr Spencer though,” said Estelle. “Seems he’s travelled all over. Lived in dozens of locations.”
“All magical?” I sat down at the table, pouring myself some coffee from the pot.
“No,” she said. “That’s the odd part. I haven’t managed to nail down where he was born, but he’s lived in cities like London at least as often as he’s lived in magical towns like ours. It seems he didn’t like to settle in any one place for long.”
“For the last few years, at least,” added Aunt Adelaide. “According to Edwin, he had no family within reach, so his body is being held in storage until they know if he has anyone to contact.”
I loaded my plate and dug in. “Did you figure out when he checked out the book?”
“Not yet,” said Estelle. “We don’t think he stayed in town either, though we’ll be checking with Frederick. The odds of him picking a different hotel are low, considering Frederick’s is the most popular. If his details are somewhere in the hotel records, it'll give us a clue about which dates in the logbook to check.”
I chewed a mouthful of toast. “So he came to town for the sole purpose of borrowing that book?”
“Perhaps,” said Aunt Adelaide, rising to her feet and levitating her plate over to the sink. “His friend Mr Blake seems to have a similar history, though as far as I know, it’s his first time visiting Ivory Beach. That’s as much as I managed to get from Edwin, anyway.”
“You mean that Mr Blake guy also travelled the world and never settled in one place?” I asked. “What did the two of them even do for a living?”
“That, I don’t know.” Her brow furrowed. “It seems odd, but perhaps they have the same interests and that’s what drew them together. In any case, it’s hard to draw any conclusions until we get more in-depth information from Edwin.”
Perhaps Blair had had better luck questioning Mr Blake, but I’d have to wait until the library opened to speak to her.
I was finishing up my coffee when Aunt Cand
ace bounded into the room. “I found it.”
“Found what?” I put my mug down.
“That.” She threw a sheet of paper onto the table. “I’ve worked out what the title of the book is.”
“You didn’t even know what the title was?” I said disbelievingly.
“Why are you so surprised?” said Aunt Candace. “There’s a whole section of title-less volumes, not to mention the ones with invisible text.”
“Aunt Candace, stop teasing her,” said Estelle sternly. “You’re right to be concerned, Rory. The book had a placeholder title in our records, but it’ll be easier to track it down if we have the translated version. How did you figure it out, Aunt Candace?”
“I put it in the translator box,” she said proudly. “It nearly exploded in the process, but I managed to salvage it.”
“You put it inside the translator box without knowing if it would work?” Aunt Adelaide’s face went brick red. “Is that why it’s spitting sparks at people? Couldn’t you have waited for me to finish the box before you gave it a test run?”
“You’re the most ungrateful bunch of individuals I’ve ever met.” Aunt Candace thrust the paper into her sister’s face. “There.”
Aunt Adelaide’s gaze fixed on the page. “I could have worked that one out without breaking a spell that’s taken me weeks to make.”
“Aunt Candace said it works on languages that don’t exist yet.” I gave her a pointed look. “Which makes no sense to me.”
“It makes perfect sense,” said Aunt Candace. “That book, though, can’t be fully translated until we get the blasted thing open.”
“Convenient,” muttered Aunt Adelaide. “A book that hides its contents… I know I’ve dealt with it before, but it must be a very long time since I’ve handled that particular title.”
Aunt Candace gave her a disgruntled look. “I really don’t know why I bother with you people. Are there any other mundane chores you need me to do?”
“No, but I should mention Evangeline was here yesterday,” I added. “She heard about the book Mr Spencer returned and wanted to express her interest in having a look at it herself.”
“She did?” Aunt Adelaide’s eyes widened. “Did she give her reasons?”
