Page 12 of Witches of Dubious Origin
“I’m sorry,” Tariq said. “Did you miss the part where it unlocked when you dripped blood on it?”
I frowned at him. I was not in the mood to be confronted with facts. Agatha’s homemade remedies aside, in my experience, magic brought nothing but misery and despair. I’d lost too much in the name of magic, and I was always going to resent what it had taken from me. Plus, I’d made a vow and had managed to keep it for twenty-two years.
“I think it’s time for a tour of our department,” Miles said. He rose from his seat, indicating that the tour would be now.
“I’m sorry, I can’t,” I refused. “I have to get back to Wessex.”
Olive rose from her seat and stared down at me. I forced myself not to squirm. “Our special collection is called the Books of Dubious Origin, or the BODO for short. Don’t you want to know why?”
I did.Damn it.
“Fine.” I picked up the book, sliding the ends of the metal band back into the hexagon until they clicked, and placed it in my shoulder bag as I stood. “But just a quick tour.”
Claire rose from her seat with a warm smile. “I’ll leave you in my team’s capable hands, then.”
“You’re not coming with us?” I asked.
“No, I haven’t gotten the smell out of my favorite sweater from the last time I visited the BODO,” she said. “I’ll meet up with you at the end.”
This would have sounded ominous, but there was a glint of humor in Claire’s eyes that made me think she was teasing. I tried not to worry.
Olive swept out of the office, leaving the rest of us to follow. I found myself between Tariq and Miles, chasing her long-legged stride. They had no problem keeping up, but I had to shift into a higher gear to keep pace in those blasted heels, which had me winded by the time we reached the stairs.
It’s not that I was excessively short or out of shape. I was just medium in height and weight and athletic ability. I even had medium-length brown hair. Everything about me, in fact, was a very forgettable medium. If generic was a brand of human, that was me.
“Are you all right?” Olive asked. The eyebrow with the scar arched up as she studied me.
“Just fine,” I said. I hoped I didn’t sound like a fish out of water, gasping for breath. She nodded once and strode down the staircase.
Back at the main entrance, Olive went in the opposite direction from the library. I glanced over my shoulder to see if Jasper was there. I wanted to see his reaction to my being in the company of the Special Collections staff. If he looked freaked-out, I would take it as a sign to run. Unfortunately, there was no sign of the handsome Brit.
We passed through the opposite side of the building. Ancient books and papyri were on display in thick glass cubes scattered across the enormous room, which I suspected had once been a ballroom. I saw one item out of the corner of my eye and stopped in my tracks. It couldn’t be. I approached the glass in wonder. Sitting on a stand and lit from above was a clay disk with a variety of characters engraved on its surface.
“You have the Phaistos Disc?” I asked.
“It’s on loan from the Heraklion Archaeological Museum,” Miles said. “Our curator Sarah Novak specializes in ancient Greece and Rome. We should introduce you. You’d like her. She had quite the adventure recently.”
I wondered whatadventurewas a euphemism for, but I didn’t ask. Olive was standing beside an open door at the end of the room. She very pointedly checked the time on her wristwatch again. We hurried to catch up. Well, Tariq and I did. Miles did not seem to feel the same sense of urgency.
The door was made of a heavy metal material. Unlike the ornamental brass doors out front, this one was solid and plain.Iron, if I was to guess. A cold draft poured out of the opening and I was glad I’d worn my wool coat and scarf.
Olive slipped inside and then Tariq. I followed, leaving Miles to bring up the rear. The lighting was dim, the area illuminated only by softly glowing wall sconces. I registered that I was on a metal landing that led to a spiral staircase that twisted down, down, down. It reminded me of being in a lighthouse. Our footsteps clanged as we wound our way to the landing at the bottom. It was a small space enclosed by three concrete walls and another metal door, but this one had an intricate web of blue lasers shooting across it. Not gonna lie, it was impressive.
Olive stepped up to the lasers and paused. I expected her to shut them off, but she didn’t. Instead, she walked into them.
“Ah!” I cried. I fully expected her to be torched like a very large fly in a bug zapper. Instead, she simply disappeared. “What the hell?”
Tariq went next and then Miles crooked his elbow at me. “Take my arm and you’ll be all right.”
I gave him a doubtful look. “The door behind those lasers looks like it’s made of iron or steel or some other very thick metal.”
“It’s iron,” he confirmed. “It’s the first line of defense against the supernatural.”
Supernatural?Suddenly, I was more alarmed than eager to know what constituted a book of dubious origin. “Why did it look as if Olive and Tariq just melted through it? Is the door an illusion?”
“You could think of it that way,” he said. “But more accurately, they magicked through it and we will, too.”
“What about the lasers?”
