by Mary Hughes
“Thank you.” Emma hugged the book to herself. And now that I have the journal, I have to leave. Unspeakable sadness settled over her.
“The book was your father’s?” Gabriel peered over her shoulder. “It looks older.”
“This is actually the journal of an iota ancestor. He was a great builder—that was his power.” Another good iota power. Why did she have to be a nasty berserker? “But my father added to it. There’s a genealogy at the end, and he…” She smoothed fingertips along the worked leather cover, “…he painted a tree to join the names.”
“Show me?” he said.
Touched that he’d want to see, reluctant to leave, and smothering another yawn, she unwound the string closure to open the small book. She turned to the last page which held the earliest Singer names. “This is the tree.”
“Gorgeous.” Gabriel brushed a finger over the sweeping branches of the hand-painted tree, not quite touching the page. “Your father was a genius.”
“Thanks.” Her cheeks heated with pleasure at his appreciation. “I thought so too, but I’m biased.”
“For being centuries old, the paper or vellum is in good shape.” He pointed at the trunk. “Is this Fezz fellow at the bottom your builder ancestor?”
“Fezz Singer?” Goodwin echoed sharply.
“He’s the author of the journal,” Emma said. “His writing is in the front of the book, the first twenty pages or so.” And then, because it had always bothered her, she added, “But the middle pages are blank. My father told me never to write on them.”
The familiar stared at her, expression grave, green irises tightening, collapsing his round pupil into vertical slits. “Can we see?”
The hair on her nape rose. “Well…I really need to go. My brother, Edge…somehow he got out of prison. He wants to ship me back to Bruiser.”
“Elroy Sharpclaw?” The way Gabriel spat her brother’s name said the wizard prince not only knew that Edge had been in the Council’s prison, he knew exactly what her brother had done to land there. “No way he’s putting one finger on you. But how the hell did he get out of…frosted fuckflakes. Edge Singer Sharpclaw. He must be the one who informed on Noah and Sophia.”
“What? No. He wouldn’t.” Before her subconscious could argue that Edge would do almost anything for the right amount of cash, she added, “He couldn’t. He was in jail. He wouldn’t have known.”
“You knew,” Linda pointed out.
“From my mother. But Edge was locked up. Incommunicado…” Except for the letters her mother wrote her brother.
“The journal,” Goodwin repeated. “Please? I think it may be important.”
“Not if Emma is danger.” Gabriel slapped the book shut and picked it up with one hand. “We need to get her out of town now.” He took her elbow with the other hand and urged her into motion toward a doorway curtained with beads.
“Gabriel, wait.” The distinguished man’s voice was almost agonized. “That book may be a time bomb.”
“What?” Stopping abruptly, Gabriel’s hand on her elbow tightened, echoing her own tension. “What do you mean?”
“The name Fezz… I seem to recall it in connection with the founding of the Witches’ Council. Coming on top of the prophecy activating, those blank pages in Fezz’s journal are disturbing.”
“Worse than Emma’s brother wanting to sell her?” Gabriel’s jaw worked as if he was chewing on their alternatives and found them all gristle.
She touched his arm. “Mr. Goodwin may have a point. The blank pages aren’t simply blank—they can’t be written on.” She blushed. “I tried, even though Dad told me not to. Pen, pencil, paint, nothing works.”
Gabriel snarled at no one and everyone. “The moment we figure if the journal is safe or not, you’re getting out of town.” He stalked her back to the display case and plunked the book down. “Show us.”
Emma flipped a few pages toward the middle of a bristling sheaf of thick pristine pages. She flattened a pair at random.
Closing his eyes, Gabriel traced a large finger along one blank page.
A corresponding hum buzzed along her skin. It scared her. “What are you doing?”
His eyes opened, a touch out of focus, giving him a vulnerable look. “Nothing alarming. Witch’s Sight. We also call it ‘going up on the etheric’ or ‘opening the third eye’ or simply the Sight.”
“Magic?”
“Strictly speaking, no. I can’t explain it in a way you’d understand…wait.” He shook his head, and a small half-smile lifted the corner of his mouth as his gaze focused on her. “Actually you, of all people, might.”
Some of her tension, her tired aching, lifted at that. “Try me.”
“Remember those magic eye pictures? They look like a blobby mass of ink, until you focus your eyes slightly above the page. Then the picture jumps out. Witch’s Sight is a way to see the reality coded in the blobby mass of space-time.”
Emma nodded. “And what reality did you see when you focused your third eye above the blobby mass of blank pages?”
He cupped her face. “My Emma. You understood.”
Those sea-blue eyes were so warm and sparkling, she longed for a midnight skinny dip in them—
“They’re not blank.”
“What?” Emma’s shock snapped her out of her daydream.
He dropped his hands from her face to touch the book. “The reason you can’t write on these pages is there’s already something on them. But it’s hidden.”
Emma’s breath quickened with a seed of new alarm, exhaustion falling away. Why would her journal have hidden writing?
“Pan?” Gabriel raised his voice. “I need you here for this, buddy.”
“I’m busy,” the man growled.
“Too busy for invisible writing?”
A beat. “A mystery? Give me a second to wrap up this call.” Moments later, Pan glided to where the four of them surrounded the journal.
Goodwin asked, “What did Noah have to say?”
“Noah was incoherent with rage. I was talking mostly with his beta, Mason. He has a few ideas. He’d rather not leave Noah alone in the garage and wants us to meet there. But first, let’s see about this delightful secret message.”
Leaning over the countertop, Pan peered at the blank page. A frown the twin to Gabriel’s appeared on his face. “There’s something on these pages, all right. But it doesn’t feel transparent so much as…” He sniffed the page. “Damn. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
“Auntie, could you try a reveal?” Gabriel said.
“If it’s all right with the owner?” She raised questioning brows at Emma.
The agitation in Emma’s stomach increased. The old leather-covered journal was physically fragile. What could happen to it, hit by magic?
“I won’t hurt it,” Linda said as if answering her thoughts. “Only reveal the writing already in it. Emma dear, it’ll be fine.”
“I know, but…” It wasn’t until Gabriel’s hand found hers and tightened that she felt brave enough to say, “All right.”
The knitting-needle wand reappeared in Linda’s fist. “One for the money. Two for the show.” She tapped the blank page with each verse. “Three to get ready. And four to—reveal!”
Emma leaned closer, goosed equally by fear and fascination.
The page was still blank.
Gabriel blinked. “What kind of hide spell won’t yield to a reveal?”
“Not a hide.” Pan’s frown was dark. “Magically locked. No beginner’s craft—this is royal magic.”
“B-but that journal belonged to my father’s ancestor.” A flood of acid opened in Emma’s stomach. Why would a wolf’s journal be locked with royal witch magic?
“Oh dear,” Linda twittered as she disappeared her wand. “Goodwin, you appear to be right. It’s the prophecy again.”
Emma needed to go, but she couldn’t leave without knowing her journal wouldn’t turn into a chomping monster or worse. “What is this prophec
y everyone keeps talking about?”
“Superstitious nonsense,” Gabriel said. “Not to be taken seriously.”
Linda shook her head. “Some people are taking it very seriously. Powerful people, willing to kill for it.”
Emma picked up her journal and held it tight. “Is the prophecy magic?”
“In a way.”
“Prophesy isn’t real,” Gabriel insisted.
“It’s as real as magic,” Goodwin said. “Magic collapses possibilities into one reality. But time does too—and that is prophecy in a nutshell.”
“Prophecy predicts whether time picks Yes or No from future Maybes?” Emma asked.
“Couldn’t have said it better, dear girl.”
Gabriel stubbornly shook his head. “Time collapses possibilities randomly, which makes long-range prophecy impossible.”
“Impossible?” Emma asked. “Or only difficult, like predicting long-range weather?”
“Exactly!” Linda bestowed a pleased look on Gabriel, mouthing “Keeper.”
“You’re a boy who wants facts,” Goodwin said. “If prophecy isn’t real, how have all the fabled predictions of the great wizard prince Jean-Dion d’Avignon come true? Not a few, not half, not most, but all of them. Including the Avignon Quatrain.” He recited:
“HEART beats for a wolf and a Blue
MIND is focused by Light
SOUL belongs to those who are True
The KEY unlocks the Night.”
“What does that mean?” Emma said.
“Who knows?” Gabriel rolled his eyes. “They’re all vague but portentous. And pretentious too.”
“But what if it isn’t, dear?” Linda’s hands fluttered like butterflies, bracelets clacking. “What if the key is real?”
Emma’s heart thumped against the journal pressed to her chest. “The key to what?”
“Night,” Linda said.
“Magic itself,” Goodwin breathed.
“Or the shed out back.” Gabriel crossed arms. “We don’t know.”
“We know the heart piece is real,” Linda retorted. “It’s Noah’s wolf pendant, originally his father’s—charged with his mother’s and father’s love.”
“We think heart, mind, and soul are all talismans,” Goodwin said. “And that they combine to form the key.”
“A mysterious key that controls magic.” Skepticism rode Gabriel’s tone.
“That’s one idea,” Pan said. “It could be for if mundanes break magic. A way to keep doing it.”
“Or it’s a key to enhancing magic,” Goodwin said. “To make the holder the most powerful witch in the world. Which would explain why so many witches have been pursuing it.”
“Maybe this, maybe that.” Gabriel gave an irritated shrug. “Too many vague options. Essentially useless.”
Gabriel’s aunt reached across and patted his hand. “Whatever the key is, we know it’s important.”
Clutched to her chest, Emma’s journal seemed to warm. “And this prophecy is active? What does that mean?”
“Extra writing appears when something is about to happen,” Pan said. “A message, aimed at a person or persons directly involved in that event. It’s happened twice before, once when Gabriel’s cousin found the parchment containing the quatrain, and once when his sister identified the heart piece. This time it says—”
“I don’t care,” Gabriel said. “It’s all coincidence.”
“Coincidence ‘Beware the Hungry Ghost’ was scribbled immediately before your sister battled the power-hungry Burgot?” Pan’s black brow rose mockingly.
“Fine. You’re right, again.”
“You mean ‘as usual’.” Pan’s brow lowered into smugness.
“Keep it up, buddy.” Gabriel glared at the assistant manager. “Your favorite amulets ain’t gonna charge themselves.”
Emma watched the interplay between the two, getting the impression it was something they did often. The banter, the fact that Gabriel’s assistant manager had come along on the trip… She gaped at the black-haired man. “You’re not simply an assistant manager. You’re his familiar.”
“Panther.” That black brow cocked at her. “You’re just figuring that out?”
“Considering I learned he was a witch only a few hours ago, I’d say I caught on remarkably quick. So what does the extra writing say this time?”
“Glad you asked. It says—”
“Don’t care.” Gabriel sliced a hand through the air, cutting off the familiar. “Prophecy’s a bunch of one-size-fits-all futures.”
“Emma asked me, not you, Mr. Doubtfire,” Pan sniffed. “It says, ‘Give in to the rage…and then a word I don’t know. Daniel read it to me over the phone, and it sounded like PEH-tee-OH-ta.”
“The rage?” Emma’s stomach churned. That was too close to her nasty berserker talent for comfort. She forced herself to shrug. “Well, I have to go with Gabriel on this. Too vague to be helpful.”
“Ha.” Gabriel wet a finger and dashed a tally line in the air.
“Yeah?” Pan growled. “Maybe I’ll let you find the way to open your sister’s jail through hit-or-miss humping all over town.”
Emma’s face flamed. “Wait, what?”
Gabriel passed a hand over his forehead, a gesture Emma recognized from many encounters with Brant the Blundering. “I’ll explain later.” Dropping his hand, he nailed his familiar with his narrowest gaze. “Fine. We have an active prophecy, writing in an old journal that’s magically locked, my sister in jail, an Enforcer who hates me, and a possibly unrepeatable way to open a second portal out of said jail. And you think all of these things are related?”
“Quite the tangled ball of yarn.” Linda said.
“I couldn’t have put it better myself, Auntie. So what, wisdom creature, is our next step?”
“Untangle the ball.” Pan’s gold eyes seemed to scan the room as his brain worked. “Split our forces to cover more ground. Someone needs to keep an eye on the Enforcer, to let us know what he’s up to and give us warning if he gets a bead on our escapees here. Someone innocent.” He gazed straight at Linda. “Innocent-looking, I mean.”
She dimpled. “My pleasure. Let me get some props first.” She trotted off.
“Then there’s the tantalizing second portal you and Emma opened,” Pan continued. “Even if the technique only works from inside a jail, it does raise possibilities. Goodwin can research that in the library here.”
“And you?”
“When I talked with Noah’s beta, Mason, he said something strange was going on with Noah’s mating bond to Sophia. And surprise, Noah’s thinking about doing something stupid. I’ll follow up with Mason at the garage and help him and Noah’s familiar sit on Noah.”
“The garage. You mean…” Emma couldn’t help a big yawn. “Sorry. Blackwood Small Engine Repair?”
“You poor dear.” Linda returned, tucking yarn and crochet hook into her craft bag. “You two have been on the go since yesterday. Gabriel, dear boy, take Emma to your pocket universe. Both of you should get some bed rest.”
Emma was shivering with another yawn, but the way the little round witch beamed between Emma and Gabriel, she might have said bed, but there wasn’t any resting involved.
Emma stopped shuddering mid-yawn.
“Auntie, I’m not sleeping until I see Emma safely away from her brother.”
“Do you think that’s wise?” Goodwin raised one distinguished brow. “Whatever’s going on, we know her journal is part of it.”
“We don’t know that.” Gabriel’s jaw set. Then he glanced at her. “But I do admit I’m worried. Emma?”
She yawned again. “A nap wouldn’t hurt. I don’t want to cause an accident driving.”
“Whatever.” Pan started for the door. “I’ll be at the garage. Once you’re done ‘resting’ see if you can figure out what that prophecy warning means.”
“Me?” Gabriel seemed surprised.
“Both of you.” He flicked a gold gaze over his should
er. “The writing apparently appeared when we got into town. Since I’m not notably rage-filled, it’s probably meant for one of you two.”
“I’m off to research jail portals.” Goodwin slid a talisman from his pocket and intoned, “McResearch, McResearch, look for the golden arches.” An iris opened to rows and rows of tall bookshelves filled with thick, ancient-looking books. He stepped through. “Although if it becomes known that Enforcer jails are not impregnable, it would raise red flags with some seriously dangerous people. We must be careful.” The iris closed.
Emma’s spine iced, until Gabriel muttered, “Thanks for the snappy exit line.” Then he speared a hand through his hair. “ Auntie? Do you think Sophia’s okay? And the babies?”
His own freedom, his very life in danger, and he was worried about his sister. Emma’s heart warmed. Caring for his sister and her babies…baby.
The idea that had been flitting about the back of Emma’s mind hit her full blown.
A baby.
Bruiser couldn’t drag her off to Manistee’s sacred ground and claim her, even with a ceremony, if she were already mated. Since she wasn’t finding her mate in the next hour, the next best thing was getting pregnant.
Her breath stopped at the idea. Although generally shifters didn’t have to worry about children until mated, they could get pregnant before then. It didn’t happen every day, but with the libido of a wolf, it did happen—and it was more likely to happen with another shifter, because a little extra magic didn’t hurt.
Gabriel has magic. More than a little extra, at that.
Her breath came back, rasping and excited.
She’d no longer have to run from her brother or Bruiser. She could stay here, with Gabriel.
Well, not here, not with the Enforcer. But if they ran, they’d both have to run. Together.
I’d have a connection to Gabriel forever.
His aunt was saying, “Sophia is safe enough, dear, at least until the Council schedules her for trial.”
Pan tapped an impatient toe. “Whatever we do, we should do it quickly. Agreed?”
“Aye,” Linda said.
