Page 40 of Warmongers and Wands
Chapter 13
Bronwyn
Iwas ready to toss these spell books through the window. Except the cabin only had one tiny window. I wondered why that was? If Diebin had been able to lug a feed tub for baths and a giant cast-iron soup pot through the woods, then certainly he could have dragged three or four nice sets of energy-efficient windows.
I’d been through two of the spell books and found nothing to do with demons. Nothing. Clearly there had been some unspoken family taboo about summoning and using demons because not only had Celesta never referred to her actions in her journals, but neither she nor Matilda had anything about hell’s minions in their spell books. Had there been a separate book she’d used for this ritual? For the research she’d put into this? Something she kept hidden so others might not see? I was beginning to believe that. If so, I was worried the book might not have survived two hundred years.
One thing I was positive of—there was a book. No witch did this stuff from memory. All the details, all the research, and the initial efforts were meticulously recorded. I had a spell book. Cassie had a spell book. Every one of my sisters had a spell book. To not keep track of these things in detail was the sort of sloppy magical practice none of us would have been guilty of. I refused to believe Celesta was any different. She’d been very exact in the spell book I’d spent the afternoon reading. There had to be another more secret one somewhere.
But where?
I clenched my jaw at the thought that I might not find it, that it might have inadvertently been destroyed. Our family tried to keep all the spell books—not just those of the head witches. Journals we might be more careless of, but not spell books. Even the most powerless of witches might have knowledge we’d need some day. Throughout the centuries we might have changed, our focus shifted, but no one ever took the value of a spell book lightly.
For example, if our house burned to the ground, these things would still be there among the ashes, unharmed. That’s how seriously we took our preservation efforts.
It had to be somewhere. And if it wasn’t…well, then, I’d need to search the globe for any of the other witches who’d survived the burning times. I’d find the correct ritual. I’d free Hadur.
And if I couldn’t, then I’d remain with him until my dying breath. I’d made that promise and I meant it. But I wasn’t about to see Hadur trapped, knowing that he’d still be stuck here after my death. No, finding that ritual would be my life’s focus.
Sorry centaurs, those blingy horseshoes would need to wait a bit.
“Need a break?” Hadur asked. “I can cook something up for dinner. One of these canned things, or that box of macaroni your sister brought.”
“I need to get out of this cabin,” I told him. “I’m going a bit stir crazy, and these spell books aren’t helping.”
He eyed my leg. “With your crutches? We’re in the woods. The ground is uneven and it’s rocky. Maybe we could just go outside and sit. Get some fresh air. Or I can carry you if there’s a certain place you want to see.”
I loved that he had this need to take care of me. No one besides Cassie had ever been that way toward me. Maybe my grandmother when I was little. Maybe my mother when I was an infant. But by the time I was eight, both of them had been occupied with more serious matters. And by the time I was eleven, Grandmother was dead and Mom was gone and there was only Cassie.
Two years older than me. She’d done everything she could to mother us, but I’d grown up with her as a peer, sharing a bedroom, hiding under the covers with flashlights, reading at night. Her efforts to make me feel safe were admirable, but I’d seen through them to the scared teenager who was struggling to care for six sisters all while grieving for a beloved grandmother and hiding her fury toward a mother who’d left us all behind.
Mom had her reasons. But her leaving had meant there were few people who’d ever protected me, who’d ever fussed over me, who’d ever put me first.
So, I loved Hadur for his suggestion. And I also knew I couldn’t let him coddle me.
“I’ve got another idea. Let’s head out to my truck. I haven’t seen it or my trailer since I got hurt, and I want to take a look at it.”
His eyebrows went up. “Perhaps you shouldn’t.”
I stood. “Perhaps I should. I’m going. You can either go with me or stay here.”
He sighed. I swear I saw him roll his eyes. “Fine. Can I at least carry you?”
“No.” I hobbled to the door. “Maybe. Only if I get too tired or I can’t make it up a hill or something. I need fresh air. I need exercise. I’m ready to jump out of my skin right now and it’s been a week since I had my accident. Three more weeks like this? Trust me, you won’t want to be near me if I can’t get out and get moving a bit.”
I headed out, the war demon behind me.
“Turn left. Head up the path, then turn left after the blackberry bush.” He followed me, close enough that he could catch me if I fell, but far enough away that he didn’t seem like he was hovering over me.
I shuffled along, breathing heavy and sweating by the time I took that left at the blackberry bush.
And this time it really was sweat.
I barely recognized my truck when it finally came into view. It didn’t even look like a truck. I looked up, up the steep, rock-strewn hill, past the smashed saplings and crushed bushes, up over what had been a breathtakingly sheer drop from the road. Then I looked at the twisted hunk of metal half buried in limbs and briars.
I cried. I cried about the loss of my beautiful truck and trailer, for the tools and forge that were somewhere scattered down this mountainside. I cried with relief that I’d somehow survived this horrific crash with minimal injuries. I could have died. I should have died. And looking at the wreck brought it all home to me.
Strong arms came around me and I leaned into Hadur’s chest, not worrying about the tears and snot soaking his shirt. What miracle had allowed me to survive this crash? What miracle had made me go off the road right at Hadur’s spot, sent me crashing into the woods inside the confines of his summoning circle? If the truck had come to a stop just ten feet farther, he would have been unable to reach me, to help me.
