Page 3 of Drawn to the Demon Duke
Aspellbook.
I knew it. From the moment my fingers brushed against the pitted leather with the pentacle embossed on the cover, combing through a pile of books on the table outside my former neighbor’s house, I knew there was something different about it. Something unique. The name on the title page was my first clue that it was something special. Then there was the way it was printed. It was unlike any typeset I’d ever seen, on yellowed pages that were so old, it was basically ancient.
Still, I offered Mrs. Green ten bucks for it—all of my babysitting money from when I watched her kids the Saturday night before—and she let me have it. Little Bobby eventually told me that his mom mentioned not having any idea where the book came from in the first place, but I still thought it was an amazing deal, even if I couldn’t read it.
For the next twelve years, I’ve made it my mission to translate it. Once I knew that I just had to go word by word, I made some progress. I kept a second notebook for my translations, not sure if I was wasting my time, though it felt…rightto go through the book, page by page.
Until the beginning of summer when I landed on one of the middle pages, and everything changed.
CHAPTER 2
MANIFEST AND PROMISE
SUSANNA
VERUS AMOR.
That’s what the blocky print at the top of the page read. It was easy to translate it since neither of the words were that unfamiliar gibberish, and when I realized it said ‘true love’, I was stunned.
Stunned and, well, kind of psyched.
A true love spell… is that why this book called to me? Because it knew that innocent sixteen-year-old Suzy Benoit would turn into awkward-in-love twenty-eight-year-old Susanna? That, after a life of reading about and watching love stories with guaranteed happily-ever-afters, I would see a true love spell and believe it could be my only chance at having a happy ending of my own?
Maybe. All I can say for sure is that, for weeks, I’ve focused on translating as much of that page as I could. It took forever. Of all the pages, it had the most words, broken down into two distinct sections. Following the same scheme, I’d say I was able to translate about eighty-two-ish percent into English; the restwere a collection of harsh syllables that I only hoped didn’t change my interpretation of it too much.
Because the spell? I’m pretty sure I understand the difference between the two parts.
The first paragraph had phrases liketheGod grant you to your heartandI’m calling you,uxormy, to me. I don’t know what ‘uxor’ means exactly, though the rest of the paragraph makes it obvious it’s referring to the true love it’s trying to call.
No. Manifest. That’s the word I jotted down in pencil next to the first paragraph. It’s a spell to manifest the true love.
The second paragraph was much longer, repeating that same word, but it’s full of promises. Like a wedding vow, almost, and I guess that makes sense. Wouldn’t you want to promise that you’d always choose your true love? So though I kept my attempts at the translations in my notebook, once I was sure that I understood what the second paragraph meant, I added the word ‘promise’ in pencil.
At the top, I doodled ‘true love’ next to the blocky print so that I knew this page was different from all the others. Those three lines were the only ways I altered the book… except for scribbling my name on the inner cover years ago when I was first afraid Mindy might take it to keep me from devoting all of my time and effort on it… until now.
After I tore open Ed’s letter, reading the advice he provided—advice that I wanted confirmation on—I ran to my bedroom, retrieving the book. Still clutching the letter, I tucked the book under my arm, then snagged a pencil.
From the moment I realized that this book was a bonafide spellbook, I always knew that I would read one of the spells. What’s the point of owning a grimoire if I didn’t at leasttryto do some magic?
I blame my fascination on the book with seeingBedknobs and Broomsticksat an impressionable age. I was only thirteenwhen the Disney movie came out, and I thought it was magical, the way they had cartoons and people in the same film. Then there was how Eglentine had a magic book and… yeah. Part of me always thought that magic could be real, and not only because I grew up onBewitchedreruns.
But, well, Satanic Panic is also a thing. There were enough clues throughout my years-long project of translating the pages to tell me that what I manifest might not be, well, human. That doesn’t mean I expect, like, ALF to appear in my house, or maybe even E.T. But what if I pull a Sarah fromLabyrinthand manifest a goblin king into my brother’s bedroom? Or the Lord of Darkness fromLegend?
Now, I wouldn’t complain if David Bowie showed up at my house. But a red-skinned demon with horns? I figured it couldn’t hurt to get a little advice from someone who knows what they’re doing.
Thank you, Mr. Woodrow.
Cracking the book open, setting his letter down on the left page, I try not to think about my sister. Mindy would be so disappointed if she knew that I was still obsessed with the book. Four years ago, when I came to live in Madison and first got my job at the call center, I fibbed a little and told her that I’d finally realized that I needed to grow up and move on from it.
I didn’t. I just got better at not letting anyone know that I dedicated most of my teens and all of my twenties to trying to understand the hold it has on me.
True love. It would be worth it all if I could find my true love.
I was cautious, though. When I wrote to Mr. Woodrow, I asked if there were any precautions I should take if I planned on trying to manifest something into our world. Instead of writing me off as another cuckoo fan, he actually answered me.
Scanning his letter again, I note the things he told me I would need. Chalk… salt… I figured as much and already bought a packof yellow chalk at Woolworth’s. I’ve got plenty of salt in the kitchen, too. He says I should use the chalk to draw a pentacle, then circle it with the salt. He was even so helpful as to illustrate what he means, and I quickly copy it onto theverus amorpage to practice it myself before adding a small note to draw it in yellow chalk, then circling it with the salt so I don’t forget.
Then, with a hint of a smile on my face, I added a few more instructions. To perform the spell, according to two of the witches I wrote last month, I’d need an open mind, an open space, a clear floor, and a willingness to be love. The clear floor makes sense now that Mr. Woodrow confirmed I need it for the protective circle, and the willingness to be loved… well, I have to believe in true love if I want the spell to work—and I do. I totally do.
