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“I certainly couldn’t,” says Helena with a laugh.
Our conversation turns to more socially acceptable topics for the dinner table, at least, according to my manners book. I have no idea if vampires have strict manners. When the conversation wanes, I ask Helena, and she laughs.
“Depends on how crotchety the vampire is. You’ll never hear me complaining about manners, that is for sure.”
Raúl leans close to me and whispers in my ear. “I must take care of a few tasks before joining you,” he says. “Can I meet you in the library?”
I nod and in seconds he is gone, the warmth of his breath still on my ear. Helena raises an eyebrow at me. “Well?”
I look at the table, filled with vampires who have incredibly sharp hearing. “Not here, for the love of dragons.”
Helena rolls her eyes. “Fine, fine. Where to?”
“Library, of course. Bring chocolate.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
In the library, I sit on the sofa, waiting for Helena. She sent me a message by servant informing me she will be late. She has a good excuse, though; she’s cooking dessert for me. I’m not about to stop her.
While I wait, I sift through the books I left stacked the other day, until I find the witches grimoire. I hold it carefully. I sit on the sofa and rifle through the pages. Most are common spells, nothing different from the ones in Mother’s—I mean Airalin’s—grimoire.
I close the last page and notice something odd about the back binding. It has a small lip along the spine that is coming undone. Using my fingernail, I slide under it, popping it open.
My mouth drops when a paper falls out, a thin small piece, mostly transparent. On it is a spell and I let out a small sound when I see the subtitle.
A Transforming Spell
To transform the witch into a vampire*
See attached note
I read the bottom for the note. It says, There is a 60% chance of retaining magic while turned. Results are not guaranteed.
Quickly scanning the spell, I grimace at the complexity. It must be done under a full moon. That part is achievable, at least, since there is one next week. The ingredients sound impossible, though. A drop of sunlight? The hair of a goat taken at night? A tooth of a wolf cracked in a fight?
I lean my head against the sofa and stare at the ceiling; the paintings distract my thoughts until I can focus. A single thought comes to my mind. I have my spiders. Why am I not using them?
“Nava,” I say. “Do you know where to find these ingredients?”
She skitters down my arm onto the paper, crawling back and forth before answering. Yes.
“I have tasks for you and your cousins. Are you up for them?”
Yes.
“First, I’d like all of these ingredients gathered and taken to my rooms here. Then, I’d also like some spiders to travel to the town Dreselda lives in. Each night, can they whisper in—" My voice catches and I clear it. “My true parents’ ears that the witch stole their baby. If they hear the truth, maybe they will remember it. Lastly. Can your spiders whisper in the human king’s ear that Airalin must be sent to the desert infinitely?”
If she’s sent to the desert for months, I will know with a surety she cannot come after me.
Nava crawls up my arm. Very interesting. It has been a long time since we’ve played. It will be done.
Just as I finish talking to Nava, Helena walks in, followed by a servant wheeling in a covered tray. She kisses the servant on the cheek and says, “Thank you, darling.”
Then she smacks his bottom as he leaves, his laugh following him out. I raise an eyebrow at her and she grins at me. “He and I have known each other for decades now.” She claps her hands and sits next to me on the sofa, pulling the tray closer. “I have treats.”
She smirks at me and whips off the lid. Underneath is an assortment of chocolate candies, and I eye them with interest. I reach for one and she gently pushes my hand away. “Not-uh! Are you going to give me details, or what?”
I laugh, nodding my head. “Yes, but why would you want to hear them? He’s your cousin.”
