Page 52 of Shackled to the World
Only death.
His death.
And she was determined the man wouldn’t escape her this time.
He would never lay another hand on her or anyone else, not if she had anything to say about it.
Annora flipped through the book, allowing Edgar time to regain his calm. The beginning of the book was older, the writing more slanted, the language older, and one she only vaguely recognized.
There appeared to be close to four hundred pages, possibly five or six authors. Only one section looked masculine. When she reached the end, a folded page fluttered to the ground. Annora hesitantly picked it up and opened it.
Her mother’s handwriting jumped out at her, and a tremor shook her hands.
It had only one short paragraph.
I’m sorry I didn’t have time to watch you grow up into the beautiful woman I see when I look at you. Keep this book close. It’s the only thing that will keep you safe. Love you, baby.
The page blurred and she quickly blinked away the tears.
“What does it say?” Edgar didn’t try to read the note.
She glanced up at him, studying him a moment, then handed it over for him to read.
“I think she dug up every bit of phantom lore she could find and wrote it in the book to protect you.” He nodded toward the grimoire, frowned, and flipped back a couple pages, then ran his fingertips along the ragged edges where sheets had been ripped out.
He glanced up at her. “Do you still have the page you found?”
Annora scrambled to her feet and collected the page from her discarded jeans, then handed it over to him. He unfolded the sheet and held it next to the ragged edges. Much to her surprise, magic sparked along the seams, sealing them together until it looked brand new.
“How did you know it would do that?” Annora demanded, dropping down to get a better look at the newly restored page.
Edgar frowned at her, his brows furrowed. “I didn’t. It was more of a hunch. The book practically radiates magic. It wants to be whole. You don’t feel it?”
Annora bit her lip, opening her senses, and saw the book swirl with a rainbow of light and dark colors. “The magic is not the same as it is in the afterworld.”
It wasn’t what she was expecting.
She wasn’t sure if she’d even be able to use it.
He only nodded, seemingly not worried in the least. “It makes sense, since your mother was a witch and not a phantom.”
“So this isn’t the ancient grimoire the witches are so eager to get their hands on?” It was all she could do not to snatch the book away from him to read more of her mother’s legacy to her.
“Possibly.” He shrugged when she forced her eyes away from the book to give him a questioning look. “The grimoire goes back five or six generations. In each generation, only one person in the entire family can access it and keep it up to date. The spells are unique to that family. So, out of hundreds of people in this family line, only you have access to it.”
“Me?” She wasn’t sure how she felt about the possibility of having more family out there, not if it meant they knowingly left her to suffer at her uncle’s hands. Her mother never mentioned them, which was telling, especially since the two of them moved around so much when Annora was younger.
Unaware of her rambling thoughts, Edgar nodded. “You. Instead of continuing to record spells for the next generation, she recorded phantom lore to help you.”
“But if she was a witch, how can the magic be helpful against actual phantoms? She couldn’t know what would work if she couldn’t cast the magic herself.” When she flipped to the back of the book that held the information about phantoms, Edgar closed it with a snap. “Hey!”
“You are now bound to the book, but I caution you against using the spells until you know what you’re doing. One wrong move can have dire consequences.” He scowled at her when she opened her mouth to protest. “The afterworld behaves a little differently with each phantom. Not many can access it the way you do…they’re not bonded in the same way…but that doesn’t mean people can’t find you there and hurt you.”
“I do have one question…why did my mother not tell me?” If she’d known, she could’ve protected herself better, and never let her uncle discover the truth.
She could’ve had a normal life.
Edgar didn’t flinch away from the question. “My guess? She was protecting you the best way she knew how. She bound your gifts when you were younger, but when she fell sick, it was too late, and she was too weak to help you. She must have been a powerful witch to even be able to conceive you. Phantom births are hard, and severely drain the mother, which is one of the many reasons why mating is banned between witches and phantoms. Death of the mother is almost guaranteed.”
