Page 47 of Rogue Witch

We’re still visible to one another, but neither of us question whether or not the spell worked. Penelope is a strong witch. If she’s confident the spell works, then we’re good to go. I nod and we head toward the potionary.

“We’re going to have to go in through the back door,” Blade says. “Can’t have the police seeing a door open by itself.” The amusement in his voice tells me he wouldn’t mind doing just that.

Five minutes later, we jump the backyard fence and enter the house from the back door, which isn’t locked.

“Let’s stick together,” I say.

“Shall we take a look upstairs first?” Blade meets my gaze. “Just to be sure?” he adds, and I know he wants to get a look a Leilah’s room and check on the absence of her chemistry book.

“Yeah,” I reply.

We check the master bedroom and bathroom and a den with no issues. We reach Leilah’s room and I enter. Penelope halts in the doorway with Blade behind her.

“Whoa,” she murmurs.

I turn. “Whoa, what?”

She scans the room and takes a tentative step inside. “There’s been strong magic here.”

“This was Miriam Crowe’s house,” I say. “There is bound to be much strong residual magic.”

“Yeah,” she says slowly. “But this is recent.”

“The vandals?” Blade asks.

“I don’t know. Whoever was here, is a powerful witch.” Her gaze shifts to the desk to the left of the door. She takes two steps, holds her palm an inch over the desk where the chemistry book used to sit, then frowns. “There’s something strange.”

“Strange?” I exchange a glance with Blade.

She withdraws her hand. “This spot is devoid of any magic.”

“What? Like…a black hole?” I ask.

“That’s an apt analogy.” She looks from Blade to me. “We’ve encountered lots of residual magic in the world. Really, you can’t throw a stone without hitting even a little fairy magic.” Penelope’s gaze returns to the desk. “It wouldn’t be strange if there was no magic in the room. But for the room to hum with residual magic everywhere except one spot is…well, like I said, odd.”

Even odder when one knows that a charmed book used to occupy that spot.

“Any idea why the spot is devoid of magic?” Blade asks.

She blows out a breath. “No.”

“Let’s go to the basement, then.” He meets my gaze. “We can give more thought to this oddity later.”

I lead the way to the basement. The sun has set and the room is full of shadows. I command a small flame to illuminate the hole in the middle of the cement floor. I’ve seen the hole half a dozen times, but the sigil drawn around the edge sends a chill through me.

“Well, well,” Blade murmurs. “Someone did go to a lot of trouble, didn’t they?”

“Wow.” Penelope squats to my right and traces a finger along the sigil. “So intricate. The artist is a master. I cant distinguish where one letter melds into another.” She frowns and looks up at me. “These aren’t English letters.”

Blade squats beside her. “I believe she’s right. I can’t discern any letters. Do you recognize the language, Penelope?” He rises.

She stands and rounds the hole to the opposite side and studies the sigil for a long moment, then looks up at us. “I have no idea.”

“Let’s find out, shall we?” Blade asks.

Penelope reaches inside her shirt and pulls out a gold chain with a gold pendant encircled with semi-precious stones. She grasps the chain three inches above the pendant and murmurs, “Time and space reveal in this place those who created this.”

A shimmer begins at the wall behind Penelope, ripples across the room, passes through us, and halts at the far wall. Four translucent, cloaked figures descend the stairs. By the time they step onto the cement floor, they are fully formed. We step back as they approach. They reach the hole and throw back their hoods.