Page 32 of Potions and Proposals
Rosie sighed. “And I can’t help being raised in a pack.”
Silence sank between them, along with a sense that everything was about to change.
“I should get you a wedding present,” Rosie teased.
“Don’t you dare! No magless traditions. This is a binding, not a wedding,” Lucy snapped.
There was a second of tension, and then they both erupted into laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation.
Rosie suddenly stopped, grabbing Lucy’s arm. “What about the Order? Are you going to tell them about your engagement?” she asked, worry creasing her brows. “Two of the most powerful families in Foxford are binding their descendants; such events would pique their interest.”
“They’ve no say in coven matters,” Lucy shrugged. They were the last of her concerns.
“What if they find out on their own? They’re sending someone for the grimoire; they might find it strange you didn’t mention it in your correspondence.”
“We don’t discuss personal matters. Once whoever collects the grimoire arrives, they’ll be on their way.” If Lucy let the stress of another thing get to her, she might combust into one giant flame. “Can we talk about anything else? My head is starting to throb, and everything’ll be fine.” She was reassuring herself as much as her friend. She wished she could tell Rosie everything about the element swap, but it was the coven who’d granted Rosie refuge when she’d left her pack; it would be unfair to make her keep a secret from them.
“Not another word on the subject.” Rosie zipped her lips. “I’ve got to start ordering the Christmas books. We can’t put it off any longer.”
Stopping by the portraits hung between the shelves, Lucy noticed they were dusted to perfection.A promise is a promise.She whistled, hoping it was safe to use her magic to summon their cleaner. Thankfully, nothing burst into flames, and Broomhilda came clattering from the cleaning closet at the end of the hall.
So far so good; no flames yet.She tried not to get too cocky.
“You did a great job, and I did promise you could have some company,” she told the broom. With a click of her fingers, another clatter echoed from the cleaning closet. The mop fell out of the door before picking itself up and swishing over to them. The broom and mop stood before her, awaiting instruction.
“You two can clean together today, but no repeats of last time. I don’t want to have to move another shelf to hide another ink stain not even magic could get out of the carpet,” Lucy warned.
The enchanted objects dipped forward as if ashamed of themselves.
“Off you go. Have fun,” she ordered, and they hurried away to their chores on the various floors. She hoped they wouldn’t be too much of a nuisance to visitors.
Sliding along the laddered shelves, she put the grimoires back in their rightful places. Rosie had been too distracted by the binding revelation to notice her potion research. Now she needed to get to the vault and find the curse-stripping potion before the Order member arrived.
Lucy woke up with a terrible crick in her neck after spending the night in the vault. She suspected she’d have ended up with a cold if Rosie hadn’t put a blanket over her. Not that she felt it – Benedict’s element kept her at a temperature she could only compare to the fires of Mordor.
A soft, deep voice caught her off guard as she put a book back on the shelf.
“Sorry to disturb you. I’m looking for Lucinda Hawthorne?”
Lucy whipped round and then rubbed her sore neck. She hadn’t expected anyone to stop by the library first thing. The book she’d been holding landed on the creaky wooden floors with an almighty thump.
“You found and nearly killed her,” she said, stepping down from the ladder and noting the new scorch marks on the wood.The fright must have triggered the fire’s desire to protect me.She slid the ladder away before the visitor could notice. With the study area littered with books, she’d decided to do a quick tidy up.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. Rosie, the woman downstairs, told me you were up here,” the stranger said, clutching his satchel to his side. Lucy wasn’t sure if he was afraid of her or just awkward.
Her eyes went to the pin on his jacket: the Vatican seal.
“I called to let you know I was on my way.” He followed her gaze to the pin and awkwardly adjusted his glasses. Handsome, in a nerdy way. “Emerson Hughes,” he added, extending his hand.
Lucy picked up the dropped book instead. She didn’t want her magic to sense her discomfort and burn him.
He drew his hand back. “I’m a professor at Darworth University with your father.”With his tweed jacket, and brown shoes, he looked every bit the scholar.
Lucy cursed silently. She needed more time to study the curse-stripping potion before she handed the Hawthorne grimoire over. She still had to double-check her translations and make sure she wouldn’t rid them of their elements entirely.
“The Order of Occult Research sent me, and since I’ve heard so much about you and Foxford, I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone,” Emerson concluded.
“If you’re here for the book, you’ll have to wait a few more days. The final incantations are proving tricky,” Lucy said firmly, wondering if she should warn him about referencing stones and killing while in town. His tight grip on his satchel revealed his nerves, so she let it slide.
