Fel leans forward. “So it’s all on paper?”
“Yes. Some are in books or on scrolls, depending on the age of the item.”
I open the pouch and reveal aged wooden circles with runes etched onto them. I wonder how long ago this was originally made.
“The rune set might be listed a number of ways. Under scrying tools or in the R section,” Mrs. Blanchard says.
“Why do the Morels believe they have a claim on this, sir?” I ask as I shift the weight from one hand to the other inside the bag.
“We do store things from time to time. It’s possible records may have been misplaced on our part, but we doubt it. When one uses an item enough, they may become attached to it. This link will make them feel if it’s theirs, if it’s not. Family legacies are important. We may be generous with our things, but we aren’t careless, or forgetful.”
“I understand. It may take us some time, but we’ll get this all sorted out.”
Mr. Blanchard nods, and his wife smiles prettily. “Excellent. We knew we could count on you ladies. Vale and I find your latest business venture smart and incredibly practical. In these days, when the world is shrinking, and allies are a necessity, we do what we must to survive. A neutral party to help smooth over the choppy waters as they come is a godsend.”
I offer up a smile, grateful for the long winded, supportive statement.
“Our son will show you ladies to the library. We have fresh tea, water, and snacks set out to help you keep your reserves up.”
“Thank you for your thoughtfulness.” Fel delivers her megawatt smile. He pats her hand and then mine. It feels like a blessing.
The library is the thing of dreams. Two stories with rows of books of various ages, bindings, categories, and sizes. Trailing my hand over the hardbacks, I feel the hum of untapped potential as Sykes gives us a rundown of how the books and records are set up. Fifteen-minutes later, we’re alone in a room full of dusty scrolls.
“I feel like we should have on face masks,” Fel mumbles.
“Not exactly the detective job I was expecting either. Let’s roll up our sleeves and knock out the scrying tools section.”
“You know what’s kind of scary is how much they have their hands on,” Fel spins in a slow circle as she takes in the room. Her bell sleeved white t-shirt billows out around her gray tights.
“Imagine what the actual vaults must look like.”
As we work our way through the R’s in the section, I try to ignore the hypnotic call of the runes we left on a table. I pause, neck deep on dust.
“Okay, I have to ask. Do you feel that?”
“Feel what?” Fel sneezes. “Like I’m about to have an allergy attack?”
“No. That call. The pouch is singing to me like I’m Winfred Sanderson from Hocus Pocus and it’s her book.”
Fel groans. “You and your witchy pop culture.”
“Everyone needs a hobby.” I set down the scroll in my hands and back out of the temperature-controlled room, retracing our steps. The siren’s call wins out. I touch the pouch and images flicker through my head. Darkness, blood, teeth, and screams. I sway, clutching the edge of the table to remain on my feet.
“Lou.” Fel grabs my arm.
“It’s okay. The pouch just showed me something. I think I need to cast the runes.” Unfolding the pouch, I open my left hand over the wooden circles warped and worn by age. I think of the witch who’s continued to elude us and sink my fingers into the bag until I feel a tug. Grasping the rune, I remove it. I repeat the process twice more, choosing Three Norns. I look at the Norn Urd, farthest to the left, representing the past actions. The backward R is Radio. The past is full of injustice, death, and crisis. I think of the murders. It’s spot on so far. The middle rune, Norn Skuld, tells me what’s likely to happen. Ewhaz, in its state upside down, like an M turned on its head, it speaks of betrayal and disharmony. My gut aches. The final rune farthest to the right, Norn Verandi, tells me what’s currently influencing the future. Perth, in its current backward C position, represents loneliness and malaise.
My gut aches. “No.” I close my eyes against the images of ravaged land, dead bodies strewn on the ground, and chaos. Why show me this unless I can change it?
“Think of another question and cast again. Maybe it’ll help clarify what this means,” Fel suggests.
“You’re right.” I place the runes back inside the bag and swirl it, mixing them together.
Can I chang
e this outcome? I concentrate on the question and dip my hand back into the bag. My fingers brush the bark until I hit one that burns me with a cold flame. I pull it out with a shaking hand. The slanted cross brings tears to my eyes. Nauthiz means endurance and survival.
How can we prevail? I repeat the process and hold my breath. Fear paralyzes me. I meet Fel’s gaze. She nods, silently lending me support. I pull the wooden chip. The diamond-shaped Inguz fills me with relief. Family, love, common sense, caring. I pair it with the first reading.