Page 38 of Touched

This is crazy. I’ve officially lost my mind.

No, I haven’t.

Straightening, I narrow my eyes to help see through the darkness.

I need light. I’ll never be able to see in here, much less find what I’m after without it.

Directly beside me is a small golden candle made from beeswax and a vine. Two tiny pieces of flint are beside it.

Ah, a candle. Perfect.

Squinting, I grab them, striking them together above a small bowl. It takes several tries, but a spark ignites and falls into the small pile of dried leaves placed in a hollowed-out cypress knot. The bowl is coated with melted beeswax, protecting the wood from burning. A small flame appears, and I carefully blow on it to help it catch. Grabbing the candle, I hold it over the flames, allowing the vine to light. Wiggling my fingers over the small vibrant fire within the bowl, I snuff it out with the air I create. I lean down to make certain it is indeed out, and nod as I see the smoking remains of the burnt leaves. Once it cools completely, I’ll replace the leaves with a few from the pile in a basket beneath the table.

As I straighten, I cup my hand around the small flame atop the candle and turn, facing the rows and rows of rolled parchment and leather-bound books within the small room. My head angles as I realize the entire room would barely hold three people.

All the protection plans and spells for the whole colony are in this one tiny space.

That’s wild.

I mutter aloud, “Well, that should make finding what I need much easier, shouldn’t it?” But my eyes narrow as I realize that for such a small space, there are a lot of scrolls and books in here. “Oh, hells. Where do I even start?”

Crossing behind the single desk in the room, I skirt the stool that wasn’t pushed in, from whoever was in here last, and glance down at the wooden top of the desk. A few books are set atop it. They’re holding down a scroll, keeping it from refurling. Two of the books are open. Looking down, I scan the pages of the first. It seems to be the locations of surrounding Fae colonies.

That’s of no use to me.

Leaning in, I look at the second. This one has a drawing of a half-man, half-wolf creature. ARougarou. I haven’t even thought about them since the lessons in school.

I carefully look at the charcoal drawing, taking in the overtly tall, yet muscular build. It looks human except for the dark fur covering the skin and its head. The face is all defined angles and sharp teeth. Its eyes are dark, black, but rimmed in red and appear soulless. The ears are pointed, like a wolf.

All in all, it’s a very scary creature. Thankfully, I’ve never encountered one. But they don’t come out to the colony. They prefer to skulk around the edges of the bayous nearer to humans. Their primary food source is children… naughty children, according to human folklore. Though the truth is they aren’t particularly picky about what they kill, from my learnings as a fledgling.

A shudder escapes me at the thought.

I whisper aloud, “I hope I never encounter one.”

The last book is closed. The cover is concealed by the open book with the Rougarou depiction. Carefully moving it to the side, I lean down to make out the faded title.Laric: Protection Spells and Charms.

Is it really that simple? Is the book I need right in front of me?

Why is this out? Are we in danger?

Or does it just remain out for easy access?

That doesn’t make much sense.

Setting the candle beside me on the desk, I pick up the book. It’s old. The leather is smooth within my palms. Holding my breath, I listen to everything, once more, before opening the cover. It’s so old there’s no index. Huffing out a frustrated breath, I open it and start flipping pages, hoping what I’m looking for is labeled and will stand out. Lines form on my forehead as I skim the words.

Finally, something jumps out at me.

“Ah ha! This is it!” I exclaim, freezing when I realize just how loud I was in my excitement. My ears perk up as I hold my breath once more. But it’s still perfectly quiet. Nothing but silence and the slight crackling of the fire upon the vine wick and the slow drip of the sweetly-scented beeswax greets my ears and my nose.

Laric Wards: Raising, Enforcing, Bypassing, and Removing.

Really? This is just written out in a book?

My eyes furiously flit over the page, looking for the one thing that will tell me how I can slip through them undetected, and then, hopefully slip back in the same way.

I flip through four pages, hastily scanning, before I find what I’m looking for.

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