Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 128893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
“Look, Avery said, pointing though he was careful not to touch the page. “It gets even worse!”
“To be certain of our parting, the Elders have ruled that I shall be espoused to another—a man of the village who has no magic in him. Thus they hope to dull my powers and to make certain that my line shall have no magic in their blood.”
“Well, I guess that part of their plan backfired,” Avery remarked, looking pointedly at me. “Since you obviously have more than your fair share of magic and Corinne is your Great-great-great—who knows how many greats—grandmother.”
“Look—they made him go off with someone else too,” I said sadly, pointing at the page.
“My own dear love they have paired with one of his own kind,” Corinne went on. “But he has said that he will start a school—a place where Others of all kinds may learn together, even though they may not mingle in fleshy congress.”
“Um, I’m guessing that ‘fleshy congress’ is Old English for sexy times,” Avery said dryly.
“Yes, probably,” I said absently. “But no wonder she used that Latin motto at the beginning of the book—the Night Reigns over All, remember? Her true love must have been the founder of Nocturne Academy!”
“Wow.” Avery nodded thoughtfully. “I knew the school was old but I didn’t know it was that old.”
“Apparently so,” I said and sighed. “Poor Corinne—what an awful thing to happen to her.”
“I agree—the whole thing sucks,” Avery said flatly. “I guess even back then people were afraid of what they didn’t understand.” He sighed. “Is that the last entry?”
“Actually no, look at this,” I said, when I turned the page.
There was an illustration here—a rough sketch but I could recognize it very well as the same picture we had seen in Avery’s silver scrying bowl.
It was the woman with long hair holding out her bleeding wrist to the knight with fangs.
“Look,” breathed Avery. “The Witch Queen and her Blood Knight!”
“Beautiful,” I whispered. Hardly knowing what I was doing, I reached out and brushed the hair of the Witch Queen with my still-bleeding fingertip, leaving just a tiny speck of blood on the page.
“Megan, you shouldn’t—” Avery began and then we both whispered, “Ohhhh!”
68
Color had rushed from the tiny spot of blood, filling in the lines of the rough sketch until it was so rich and vibrant it might almost have been a photograph or one of those hyper-realistic drawings you see sometimes on the Internet. The Witch Queen’s hair was a rich auburn and the blood on her wrist was bright crimson. The knight’s pale eyes shone like lightning and his hair was as black as coal. The looks on their faces were filled with love and devotion—the desire to protect—the need to be close.
It was beautiful.
“It’s exactly like we saw in my scrying bowl,” Avery whispered. “Do you think Corinne painted it herself?”
“She must have,” I murmured. “I haven’t seen anyone else’s hand in here and it’s very well done—like her drawings of the plants and herbs but even better.”
“She was definitely multi-talented,” Avery agreed. “But what does it mean?”
“Look—the book is showing us!” I said excitedly, pointing to the page opposite the picture.
As we watched, the words appeared to be writing themselves across the parchment. And the color of the ink had changed again—this time blazing out of the page in thin silver lines, as though the page was being etched with the precious metal before our eyes.
“This vow and foretelling I leave for my descendants,”
Corinne had written—or was presently writing, I guessed. Was this a spell left on the grimoire or was she contacting us from beyond the grave? The idea sent a cold finger skating down my spine.
As we watched, the writing went on.
“One day a descendent of mine shall come into her power—a power to equal my own. Magic shall be in her blood, and she shall use her blood to call magic forth and bend it to her will. She shall meet one of my true love’s line and together they will end the Edict, this cruel and evil law which seeks to keep Others of different kinds apart. None shall gainsay her for she shall be The Witch Queen reborn and he shall be her Blood Knight and together they shall set the Others free.
Take this as a sign—from now until her coming, the sacred roses around the Coven’s Hallowed Glade shall be as withered and dead as my heart. When they begin to green again, The Witch Queen of my line is near. And when once again they bloom, she is come and all the Coven must tremble before her! This curse do I lay on them and their descendants—that she shall reign over them with her Blood Knight at her side and none shall gainsay her. Then shall all Others live together in peace and love, with none to interfere. This do I, Corinne Latimer, swear, attest, and avow.