“Or someone didn’t want the book to be found.” Using her hand as a guide, she lowers the book to an empty table. “Ya know they always say it’s the last place you look.”
As we near the cover, the resonating light dims. “Is there a buzzing sound coming from inside as well?”
“Seems so. Look at this mark on the cover. Three legs, three spirals coming off from a shared center. It’s the same mark as on the babies’ legs.”
Tricia pivots, catching my slip. “I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
“Both Salina and Lily bear the mark. I see them as my nieces. I love those babies, but I love you and ours more. Let’s just focus on us right now, please.”
Peter comes to stand beside us. He’s one of Tricia’s father’s confidants and an elder fae, and the strongest of the men who has a nose for Other Kind. “This is a Celtic symbol, but the Triskele is over sixty-five hundred years old.”
“What does it mean?” She runs her hand over the emblem that snaps with magic.
“It highlights the deeper meaning of life pertaining to the number three. So the action and cycles of three variations. For instance, life-death-rebirth, past-present- future, mind-body-soul, power-intellect-love, creations-preservation-destruction, mother-father-child, etc.”
I reach out my hand.
With uncanny speed, Peter blocks me, stopping me from touching the book. “This tome is laced with silver.”
“I’m ancient and not affected by silver like turned vampires.”
He removes his hand. “Proceed with caution. It reacted to Tricia’s magic and touch. It could be either warded to protect her or bespelled to hurt her since it sought her out. If I recall, the pixies who live deep within the Cornwall Forest still live as our ancestors did, full of treachery and distrust.”
Tricia’s face turns a pale shade of neon green. “We don’t have the liberty of time.”
She takes up my hand, giving me a long glance. Then she places our stacked hands on the manual.
It bursts into scorching flames.
Chapter 6
Tricia
With the PDU library spinning above me, Riley gathers me up, shielding me with his body as our guards rip us from the flaming book. The fire disappears two seconds later, but in this moment, I realize there are many things I love about Riley. Him rescuing me at the right moment will always be in the top five. The vampires move closer now that the fire has dispersed. I think we’re all asking the same question. “What was that about?”
I check out my hand, expecting blisters, but my skin isn’t even red.
“Magic,” Riley murmurs, shaking his hand.
Peter encroaches, his sharp green gaze checking both of us out before turning his attention to the book. Built like a wrestler, the fae waves his hand over the book. “The problem with this magic is that it’s not one even I recognize, which means I’m not sure if we can trust it.”
Riley takes my hand, flipping it over to confirm I’m not burned. A flat line takes the place of his lips. “It felt hot, but Peter is right, whatever happened seems benign.”
My skin sparks with magic I don’t recognize. But what are my options? I only have one lead, and I need to explore its resources. “This book spoke to me. We all know that magic isn’t predictable, but there is only one cure to saving me and my child’s life. If it’s inside this book, I have to risk touching it again with Riley.
Riley squeezes me tighter, leaning forward. “Are you certain?”
“As certain as I’ve ever been.” I open the cover as Riley grasps my hand, this time following through as we lock our palms against the page.
The words leap off the parchment.
“It’s happening again.” Riley clutches me against him as if by holding me I’ll somehow stay planted in the human realm, but a portal opens, drawing me downward. “I can’t hold on.”
“I won’t let go.”
“I don’t think it’s real, like the fire. This book, the place it wants to suck me into, is one of illusion. Let me go...”
A force pulls me, calls to me, knocking on a door that I can no longer resist opening. It’s not my grandmother’s magic, for she’s perverse darkness to serve her wiles. I let go of Riley’s hand, even as he struggles to reach me. But then he vanishes above me as I descend into the book’s portal, landing outside the gates of the Cornwall Forest.
Chapter 7
Tricia
When it comes to a map of the earth, the Faery Cornwall Forest lays directly under St. Nectan’s Glen, near Trethevy, the south-western peninsula of England. But heck if I recall a marketplace in Faery. A shadow darts to my left, the creature resembling a small human the size of my hand. I trot after her, keeping close to the fence of reeds leading to the bustle of the market. My heart races laps, but I tell myself this book is not one of words but one of actions. Specifically, of my fae history as a city I’m certain no longer exists within the Faery realm.
Along with others who meander through the crushing marketplace, I’m jostled about.
Protectively, I shield my belly.
A woman on my right lines her table with an assortment of fruits that have no names in an earthly produce section. “Sweet, just picked, ripe for your tasting.”
“Clay bowls. Reed bowls. Come.” Another marketer entices me with his gaze. “Finest in Faery.”
At least I appear to be in the right place. I avoid interacting, instead keeping my focus on the little woman, who darts between tables selling crafts that have no purpose in the human realm.
Another woman brushes past me, but I don’t feel her touch. The air doesn’t swirl about her as she stirs up the dusty road. I can’t smell her scent, nor her baby’s. I don’t think I’m truly there. I’m as much an illusion as the fire.
But I press forward, heading deeper into the narrow alley where the street falls dark. Just when I think I’ve lost the pixie, she darts from one seller’s table to another, jumping up onto a jute sack that’s bursting at the seams with white powder.
With caution, I approach the table. I’m not the only one who knows not to ingest any elixir that could lock me inside the book forever. “Who are you?”
The tiny woman picks up her head, meeting my eyes. Her hair is medium brown, plain as her simple face and peasant clothing. She gives me a nod and holds up three fingers before she vanishes into the air that suddenly feels weighted, damp, a mix of ozone and magic sparkling about the fae woman who then appears in her place.
“Who was that? Was that you all along? Are you a shifter? A changeling?”
She bows her head to me.
Suddenly, I’m feeling self-conscious. She’s pretty, about the same age as me or a tad older. She hides her shape behind loose-fitting clothes and shades green eyes with a low-brimmed hat that hides her tipped ears.
“You have questions. I don’t have all the answers.”
I approach the table, spotting a Triskele stamped on round stones, soaps, and various apothecaries. The scene is right out of a photo depository internet site, after I’ve searched for magic. I suppose it’s a scene of my own creation. But, like the mini fae, the woman also sees me. Not only that, she recognizes my station. “Who are you? What is this place?”