Page 15 of Witches of Dubious Origin
I glanced around the main room, looking for something more scientific. “How do you authenticate the materials you acquire?”
“So glad you asked,” Miles said. “This way.”
He crossed the room to another narrow wooden door. He pushed it open and stepped inside, waving me in after him. Olive and Tariq joined us, which surprised me, as I didn’t think Olive wanted me to be privy to their secrets. I blinkedas I took in the glaringly bright room. This was the laboratory I had been expecting.
“Tariq is our master of radiocarbon dating,” Miles said. He gestured for Tariq to take over.
Tariq nodded and crossed the room to a large piece of equipment with coils and wires and tubes. It looked like something out of a science fiction novel.
“This is our accelerated mass spectrometer,” he said.
Yup, totally sci-fi. “It feels rather techy for objects of dubious origin,” I said.
“Science and the arcane can coexist,” Miles assured me. “In fact, it’s generally science that reveals the mystical and magical, shining a light on the mysteries we can’t solve or comprehend.”
I gave him a doubtful look and asked, “How does it work?”
“This machine accelerates negatively charged ions in order to separate the rare carbon-14 atoms from the more common carbon-12 for mass analysis,” Tariq explained. “Once we determine the decay of the carbon-14, we can estimate the age of the paper or parchment.”
I didn’t completely understand, so I asked a follow-up just to be clear. “And we can use this method on my book?”
“Absolutely,” Tariq answered at the same time Miles said, “Potentially.”
Both Tariq and I turned to face him.
“Potentially?” I asked.
“Zoe, I would like to offer you a position here in the BODO,” Miles said.
“What?” Olive and I cried in unison.
“We have a vacancy and I think you would fit in well.” Miles held his hands wide to indicate the lab.
“You’re giving her Niall’s position,” Olive said. It wasn’t a question, and she didn’t sound happy about it.
“He’s been gone for two years, Olive,” Miles said. His voice was understanding but also firm.
Olive turned and strode to the door, where she leaned against the doorframe, clearly refusing to participate.
“Why me?” I asked. “Surely, you have loads of more-qualified candidates and people in-house who would enjoy this collection much more than I would.”
“I’ve seen your curriculum vitae,” Miles said.
“How did you see my CV?” I asked. Miles didn’t answer, but I knew. “Agatha.”
He didn’t confirm or deny, but I knew it was Agatha. She’d always believed I was destined for bigger things than the Wessex Public Library, completely disregarding the fact that Wessex was where I wanted to be.
“You’d bring a unique set of skills to the department,” Miles said.
I stared at him. I knew what he was going to say before he said it and I wanted to argue, but the very book I’d brought here would make a liar out of me.
“The Donadieu coven is one of the oldest and most powerful in the world,” Miles said. “With that blood in your veins and your family’s grimoire, you have the potential to be one of the greatest witches of the modern age.”
“Pfft,” Olive huffed from her place beside the door.
“There are two problems with that,” I said. “The first is that I can’t read the book and the second is that even if Icould, having not practiced any witchcraft since I was a child, I’m likely not powerful enough to manage any magic at all.”
I didn’t mention my reluctance to examine my abilities. How could I explain to a roomful of strangers what my childhood had been like? That I’d grown up in a household where my mother was an extraordinary witch, so much so that the high priestess of the local coven was threatened by her power. As the members of the local coven frequently turned to my mother instead of the high priestess for help in casting their spells, my father had become concerned that something horrible would happen to my mother because of her ability.
