My throat tightened at the memory of my friend. A bird’s cry sounded from high above, and I looked up.
The raven flew overhead, following me once again. We were nearly to the library, only a few blocks away, but quite far from Eve’s shop, where the raven usually spent its time.
What was it with that bird? If only the seer hadn’t been so opaque.
“Were both your parents magical?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Not my father. And my mother…I don’t know.”
“You don’t think of her?”
“Absolutely not.” Just the idea of it made my heart hurt. “There was a time when I wondered about her. I was still little enough to have fantasies that she would come and get me. But those got me nowhere. Eventually, I grew old enough to realize they were ridiculous and hurting me. So I stopped thinking of her.” My technique had worked for the longest time, too.
No longer.
“That takes a powerful will.”
“One thing I’ve got. I don’t know when to quit—even when it would be smart.” My drive had kept me doggedly going after criminals in the human world. Had gotten me arrested for a murder I didn’t commit. “So my mother must have been a supernatural?”
“Yes, more than likely. Magical talent is most often genetic. Given what the seer said, I think that’s the case for you.”
I nodded. How such an ancient book was going to tell me about my past, I had no idea. But it was our only lead.
We arrived at the library a moment later. Golden light shone from the small windows on either side of the door, which was unlocked. I slipped inside, Grey close at my heels.
“Back here,” Seraphia shouted.
I followed her voice toward the rear of the library, where she’d set up a workstation at a large wooden table. It was covered with books and various small tools—knives and brushes and little pots that glowed with light.
She looked up from her seat at the table, her dark hair messy and her eyes shadowed. She still wore the ratty T-shirt and jeans, and she looked like a far different woman than the one I’d first met outside my shop.
Something was up with Seraphia.
I hurried to her side. “Have you been working on this all day?”
“Yes.”
“You look exhausted.” I stared at the book, hoping it hadn’t been completely devouring her time and energy.
“It’s not the book’s fault. I’ve got some…things going on.” She shook her head. “But don’t worry about that. Look here.” She pointed to the book, which lay on the table underneath a small lamp, then maneuvered a large magnifying glass over the golden clasp.
Grey crowded close, and we both peered at the book. Beneath the magnifying glass, it was possible to see tiny grooves carved into the metal. She pointed to them. “This is the lock. There’s no key for it, but I think you’re meant to put a liquid in there. It would travel through the grooves, into the interior, then open it. But I have no idea what type of liquid, and if we get it wrong, the journal will probably self-destruct.”
“It’s my blood,” I said, remembering w
hat the seer had told me.
Seraphia’s gaze flicked to me, eyebrows raised. “Blood makes sense. How do you know it’s meant to be yours?”
“A seer told us. It’s something to do with my past.”
“An ancestor of yours might have written this book, then?”
“Maybe.”
“Okay, then.” She pointed to the book, indicating the three small holes drilled into the metal clasp. “I think two of these holes are meant to trick you. Ignore them. Place a small drop of blood in this hole near the edge. That’s the proper starting point.”
I drew in an unsteady breath, wondering what we were going to find. It’d been so long since I’d thought of my past, and now I’d been handed a gift.