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“You’re done in the bedroom?” Danica follows me into Dad’s office. “You didn’t look very hard.”
My magic yearns to react to every insult and jab she throws my way, and I struggle to keep a handle on it. I’m bruised, winded, nauseous, and can’t withstand much more of this without falling apart.
Maybe literally.
Is it possible for a witch’s magic to tear her apart from the inside out? Hopefully, I won’t find out.
My hands ball into fists and I dig the blunt edges of my nails into my palms to keep from lashing out again.
“Are all Sun Witches as emotional as you? You never stop crying.”
“Piss off.” It doesn’t have the desired effect, with tears streaming down my face.
Danica laughs at me.
“Fine by me—try, don’t try—whatever.” She shrugs as she takes up her place. “Either way, I’m first in line when you come out of here empty-handed.”
“You don’t think the amulet is here?” I sink into the chair at my dad’s old desk, depleted of my will to carry on.
I’m not convinced the moonstone amulet is stashed in my old home either, but if they don’t think so either—then why are we here?
“I don’t know why Egan wants it so bad anyway—that tacky thing was never his to begin with,” Danica scoffs.
“Dani!” a low voice calls from the first floor.
“Yeah?”
“Alpha is sending Walter and Sarah for a lunch run.”
“Thank fuck. I’m starving.”
So am I.
Danica steps out of the room to confer with her packmate about fast food orders, giving me a respite from her constant gaze. I would take a double cheeseburger right about now, though I doubt they’re going to ask for my order.
Pretty soon, I’m going to rethink my stance on eating the offered pack scraps. Last night, I had a dream about Callius’ chocolate cheesecake.
I regret not accepting a slice now more than ever.
Ignoring my grumbling stomach, I walk along the edge of the room, tracing my finger up and down the spines of the wall of books. There are a variety of gardening books, from herbs to flowers to vegetables. There are history texts, and philosophy papers. There are volumes of encyclopedias, and a row dedicated to messy journals with bulging pages.
Dad had a thirst for knowledge—the four framed degrees on the wall prove that much.
I continue past the bookshelf and skim my hands against the wainscoting. A memory brushes my mind and I press one of the wooden panels. It sinks inward and slides to the side, revealing a little alcove I forgot existed until now.
It was my hiding place when I played hide and seek.
Kneeling down to look inside the concealed space, I find a dingy, plush bunny rabbit covered in dust and cobwebs.
Doctor Flopkins! What is she doing here?
But it’s what’s next to my cherished childhood stuffed animal that makes me freeze.
I cast a quick glance over my shoulder to ensure I’m not being watched, but Danica is still chatting in the hall about lunch. That leaves me clear to inspect my found treasure.
No bloody way.
I pause with my fingers mere inches from the leather cover of the missing Dumont family grimoire.
