“I understand your caution.” He tilted his head, listening. “I’m going to tell the others you’re awake.”
“Thank you.” I caught his hand as he stood. “I mean it.”
Without another word, he bent and brushed his warm lips across my suddenly hot and tingly cheek.
Shoving handsome agents who knitted out of my mind, I cracked open the grimoire to a marked page.
I read the passage, reread the passage, then well and truly felt like a fool of the highest order.
What I did to Colby wasn’t an accident. It was a conscious decision. For us both. But I never intended her to fulfil her role as my familiar. Therefore, I didn’t study her rare condition, our unique bond, or anything else to do with what happened that night. We both chose to pretend this was how we had always been.
Last night—I assumed it was last night?—proved that ignorance was not bliss.
According to the grimoire, Taylor hypothesized that since I’d bound Colby to me at the height of my power that she would have a greater capacity for storing and channeling magic. But she was a soul given form. An innocent soul. The rarest and most powerful kind. Children of a certain age were often targeted by supernatural predators for that exact reason. In binding Colby, I had caught pure lightning in a bottle.
And, according to the numerous spells outlined in the grimoire, anyone could pop her cap and drink.
All they had to do was kill me first so that our bond would release Colby’s soul.
As I flipped deeper into the book, I discovered the complex spell Taylor used for creating his masque and worse. Far worse. Curses. Enchantments. Soul magic.
The door burst open on cat-size Colby and Clay, and I shoved the grimoire under my pillow.
I took a moth right between the eyes as she smacked into my face and clung tight to my hair.
“You’re awake.” Her furry body jittered as she slid down to stare at me. “You slept a lot longer than me.”
“Go ahead.” I peeled her off and plonked her on my lap. “Mock me with your supreme powers.”
For a moth, she did smug well. “I thought I just did.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I examined her. “You’re not hurt or feeling puny or anything?”
“I feel like I drank the whole tub of sugar water in one gulp.”
“Um…” I glanced at Clay, our resident familiar expert. “Is that normal?”
“The more power a familiar channels, the more power they’re able to channel.” He shrugged. “Colby is already a powerhouse. She’s only going to grow stronger the more you work with her.” He hesitated. “The cork is out of the bottle, so to speak. Now that Colby has used her powers in conjunction with yours, she has to keep expending the energy her body will naturally begin to retain, or she will be consumed by it.”
Most black witches didn’t keep familiars. We didn’t need them. We gained power through consumption. Of all the lessons I had been taught, the care and keeping of rare familiars hadn’t been a footnote in the margin. That was why I treated Colby like a kid, like a person, instead of as a pet or a conduit.
After I finished reading the grimoire from cover to cover, I would have more research ahead of me.
“Ha! That means we’re a team whether you want to be or not.” She was smug as a bug. “You don’t get a vote.”
“Harsh.” I wiggled my lap to make her dance. “Phenomenal cosmic powers are making your head swell.”
Launching herself off my knee, she zoomed closer. “Do you know what tonight is?”
“I don’t even know what today is.”
“It’s Halloween.” She pirouetted in the air. “Will you take me trick-or-treating?”
“Colby,” Clay chided in a gentle tone. “Rue is exhausted. We need to let her rest.”
“Hollis Apothecary was supposed to have an open house tonight.” I plucked at the covers. “I’m not sure I’m ready to face the store yet. Or the town.”
There would be so many questions about the store, the girls, my ex. And I was tired of the lying.