Page 51 of Witches of Dubious Origin
• • •
It took a lengthy call to Miles and some time replacing my front door with the plywood before I had a moment to throw some things, including my grimoire, into a duffel bag and leave my house.
Jasper had been invaluable in helping secure the sheet of plywood. He told me he’d arranged for someone to come early the next morning to replace my door, for which I was grateful. I was used to doing all of life’s chores and tasks bymyself, but the night had been more harrowing than I was used to—dramatic understatement—and I was finding it difficult to process, so the assist was welcome.
We arrived at Agatha’s house just before midnight. She was waiting for us with a fresh pot of chamomile tea and two guest bedrooms all made up for us. I was exhausted in body but not in mind, so I accepted the tea, weaving my way around her possessions to one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace, which had a nice blaze going. Jasper took the chair opposite me and Agatha sat on the sofa.
She waited until we were settled and had sipped our tea and relaxed into our seats before she said, “What happened tonight?”
Jasper glanced at me over the rim of his cup, clearly indicating that I should do the telling. Fine.
“Potentially, I called an undead Viking into being and he arrived at my house looking for the grimoire.” I sipped my tea, wondering how long it would take the chamomile to soothe my frayed nerves. The whiskey certainly hadn’t.
Agatha peered at me over the top of her reading glasses. “That makes no sense. You haven’t used any of your abilities since you were a child.”
“Actually, I’ve been studying the craft under the supervision of the BODO staff,” I said.
“Zoe, why didn’t you tell me?” Agatha put her hand over her heart and looked wounded.
“I just started,” I said. I glanced at Jasper for unspoken backup.
“She did,” he confirmed.
“Fine,” Agatha said, looking somewhat mollified. “Buthow could you raise a Viking when you can’t even read the book?”
Jasper’s head swiveled from Agatha to me as he awaited my answer. I told Agatha the same thing I’d told him about studying my notes and then deciding to meditate on a page in the grimoire. Halfway through the telling, a weird feeling, like a chill in my bones, overcame me.
“Hold on,” I said. I put my teacup down on the hearth, as there was no place else to put it, and I hurried to the base of the stairs, where I’d left my duffel bag. I rifled through my meager possessions, looking for the one thing I didn’t remember packing. It wasn’t there. My heart started to beat double time. I dumped the contents of my bag onto the floor, searching for my notebook. It definitely wasn’t there.
“Zoe? What’s wrong?”
I turned to find Agatha and Jasper watching me with matching expressions of concern.
“I didn’t pack my notebook. It’s where I wrote all the grimoire’s symbols along with their frequency of use and groupings.”
“Do you want to go back and get it?” Jasper offered.
“It’s not there.” I began stuffing my bag with my things. “I would have grabbed it if it was still on the floor in front of the fire when I picked up the rest of the room.”
“Maybe it got kicked under the furniture in the ruckus.”
“No, I looked everywhere when I was cleaning up.” I met Agatha’s fretful gaze. “That means while we were being chased by an undead Viking, someone went into my house and took my notes.”
“This is concerning for a variety of reasons.” Jasper tookout his phone and stepped back into the living room. “Excuse me, I need to make a call.”
I pressed a hand to my forehead, trying to remember the details of the notes I’d made about the grimoire. There was nothing in the notes that would help anyone without access to the source material. It was more that someone had entered my home and taken my work. I was pissed.
Agatha frowned. “One question.”
“Yes?”
“Where is your undead Viking? How did you manage to lose him?”
“About that…” I rose to my feet and gestured to the kitchen, where I knew she kept the hard stuff. “You might want something stronger to drink than chamomile while I tell you.”
• • •
All in all, Agatha took the news of an undead Viking trapped in her family’s mausoleum fairly well. She agreed to stay away from the tomb, and I handed her the key that was usually kept in the marble box for safekeeping.
