Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 49441 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49441 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
And there was a new flavor of cupcakes coming to my local bakery next month that I’d been dying to try.
There was a lot to live for, damn it.
So I had to find this stupid key.
I crept my way back down the steps, making another turn around the room, trying to open myself up to receiving signs from the universe or the vibration of the wards.
It wasn’t until I was in the chapel again that I noticed a door I’d missed before.
There was a brass plaque on the wood declaring one word.
Patio.
I didn’t know what I was expecting.
But a sprawling, meticulously maintained garden enclosed in tall walls to protect it from the outside world was not it.
The paths moved alongside colorful beds of roses, zinnias, daisies, coneflowers, sage, marigolds, and hydrangeas.
Stone benches were placed here and there, likely spaces meant for meditation, reflection, and prayer.
It was no surprise to me when I took a step into the patio that I finally heard it.
A sweet, high-pitched humming. A music that never slowed, never dulled.
A song that could only be attributed to one thing.
A spell.
Of course this was where the witches would have hidden the key. Especially if they placed it here a hundred or more years ago.
Witches, especially ones of past generations, always felt their power was stronger when surrounded by nature. Feet in the grass, moon above their heads.
It would also feel less sacrilegious to them to place it here. Since nature belonged to all of us.
I wondered as I moved down the paths of flowers, if worshipers could hear this song, and if they could, what they would attribute it to.
I imagined the nuns on their knees tending to their gardens, the music swelling around them, soft and sweet as an angel’s song.
Or perhaps only other witches could hear the music.
It grew louder as I walked until it was loud enough to drown out even my own thoughts as I approached a fountain.
The water cascaded in a lazy stream from the top basin into the large circular bottom, complete with a wide enough ledge for someone to sit and rest on.
I went ahead and lowered myself down, closing my eyes, trying to focus on the song, figure out where, exactly, it was coming from.
Shifting in my seat, I leaned down toward the water, hearing the song intensify.
It was in the water, somewhere.
I reached into it, the cool water giving me momentary relief from the cloying heat.
Feeling along the base of the fountain itself, little round circles met my exploring fingers until, suddenly, one felt too smooth compared to the others.
If there was a question in my mind about it, the way electricity shot up my arm sure answered it for me.
“Ow,” I hissed, snatching back my hand.
Okay.
What was my move here?
I could grit it out and just work the crystal free, ignoring the pain that zapped up my arm.
Something told me, though, that it wouldn’t be that simple.
It was placed here by witches. It was spelled. Getting it out would require more of the same.
And I had nothing on me to cast anything with.
But when left without supplies, I suppose there were always sigils. Sure, I hadn’t actually used a sigil in years, let alone created my own out of thin air.
Magic was pretty basic, though, if you boiled it down to its most basic ingredients.
Fire.
Air.
Earth.
And water.
I certainly had the last.
Deciding to give writing one in the water a try, I dipped my fingers back into the water as I cleared my mind, so I could focus on the idea of breaking the ward, of removing the stone.
Before I knew I was even doing it, I felt the vibration of the song of the ward moving through me as my finger traced a sigil onto the side of the fountain.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The song had been so overwhelming that the sudden silence had my ears ringing as I sat there too stunned to move.
It worked.
It actually worked.
Right?
There was only one way to know.
I plunged my hand back under the water, feeling for the too-smooth stone and tracing my fingers over it. But this time, there was no current of pain up my arm.
And with a little digging with my fingernails, the stone came free, a perfectly round circle dropping into the palm of my hand.
My hand lifted out of the fountain, water cascading from my palm as I opened it to see a tumbled crystal quartz with something enclosed in the center.
This?
This was the key to unlock a mystical labyrinth?
One that held something a vampire, who seemed to have everything in the world, wanted?
What the hell was he having me steal?
CHAPTER SIX
Nathaniel
I was half-expecting the witch to slide back into the town car with bedhead, informing me that she got tired while searching and took a little nap in the pews.
She came running out of the cathedral like she was being chased, looking over her shoulder now and again until she finally flung herself into the backseat, leaning back and breathing fast.