Page 96 of Autumn L.A.W

He watched closely, knowing he had to become familiar with the hidden books. Whether he should ever need them or not, he had been given a dangerous task. He was determined to follow in his father's footsteps and protect the knowledge within those books.

“Is there anything in there for me?” Victoria spoke from behind them, and they jumped.

“I already gave the volume that might help you to Duke,” Amelia said. “Please never mention the existence of this bookcase.”

“I won’t. I promise.” Victoria said, and she crisscrossed her index finger over her heart. “But… But why would the world need to end?”

“If it became an uninhabitable wasteland. There are horrible possibilities now. Some power-mad idiot could decide to play the ultimate Dr. Doom.”

“Mon Dieu!”

CHAPTER 21

Now that they had located all the ingredients needed for the complicated spell, Victoria and Duke only had to find the damned dry cleaner. Naturally, they headed to Victoria’s Montréal apartment. Duke shrunk the plants down to miniature size by magic so that he could stuff them all in Victoria’s tote bag and be ready to cast the spell at a moment’s notice

Ancient repositories of forbidden knowledge limit one’s environs, and “urban chaos” was out. So, they landed just outside the city and took a bus in like normal, law-abiding citizens, which felt wrong, somehow.

Victoria sat rigidly during the entire ride, clutching her bag of magical ingredients like it might leak or explode.

A toddler across the aisle stared at her.

She stared back.

The toddler burst into tears.

“Good,” she muttered. “Trust your instincts.”

Duke, infuriatingly calm, watched the city roll by. “You could relax, you know.”

“I could,” she said. “But I have a bleeding tree in my bag and a plant that eats things. I feel like vigilance is appropriate.”

When they reached her building, Victoria didn’t hesitate. She bolted up the stairs, adrenaline spiking, already imagining dragging that imposter out by her stolen hair—as long as she didn’t tear it out of her scalp. Her real scalp.

She flung the door open and was greeted by silence. “She’s gone?” Victoria exclaimed. “You have got to be kidding me.”

The closet door hung open. Half the clothes were missing.

“The good ones, of course,” she added darkly. “May every zipper fail her in public.”

A voice came from the kitchen.

“She packed your favorite red dress.”

“Reginald?”

Her raccoon familiar strolled in like he owned the lease. Tiny bottle cap “medals” were pinned to his aluminum can armor. His expression was unimpressed.

He looked her up and down. “Well. This is new. You look… compact.”

Victoria pointed. “You don’t get to critique my situation until you explain why you let her leave.”

Reginald hopped onto the arm of the couch. “Ah, yes. Because I, a raccoon, am capable of stopping a determined human who is wearing my beloved witch’s body.”

“But you knew she wasn’t me. You could’ve bitten her.”

“I tried,” he said. “She called me ‘emotionally aggressive,’ and packed faster.”

Victoria dragged her nemesis’s hands through her short gray hair. “Where is she?”