“This.” She pointed to the open page. It was in Latin, the letters written in old-style script that was more art than anything. Being this close to something this old, something this precious and beautiful filled me with a sense of awe. I recognized some words here and there as I scanned down the page, but not many.
“What is it?”
“A ritual to harness moonlight and earth energy.”
I wasn’t following. “For what purpose, Nana?”
“We can use it to force your injured friend to change, to fully change.”
“But that’s magic!” Erik said.
“Nana you know what could—”
“Of course I do! I’m not a novice, Persephone,” she croaked.
Unwilling to scold her again, I waited with my expectant expression plastered to my face. We stared at each other, neither willing to give. Her expression was, well, weird. Her mouth formed its usual angry line, but her brows weren’t squished down tight together. Instead, they lifted as if in surprise. I wasn’t certain if she was as pissed at me right now as I was at her or if she was going to vomit.
“I don’t understand,” Erik said carefully. “If you know the dangers, then why suggest it?”
“Magic stirs energies into action. It affects the energy field around wæres and causes a reaction, a change. But most magic doesn’t stir enough energy to cause a full-out reaction. Most witches couldn’t handle the amount needed. This spell has plenty, because it’s sorcery.”
Silence.
“Persephone, this can be done, if you are willing.”
I took a breath and considered it. “I’m not unwilling. It’s just that we have all lived with knowing these dangers for so long, it’s not easy to just disregard them.”
“Don’t disregard them; rethink them. If you’re hungry, a single bite of food won’t ease your hunger; it’ll make it worse. If a wære is sensitive to certain energy and is near it, it’s the same concept: it’s not enough, and it makes things worse.”
I followed the logic, but—“What makes you think we can handle the energy?” I’d touched the ley for a smidgen, enough to power my wards. It had felt like touching boiling water. Drawing that much energy could be like dropping your entire body into a vat of boiling water. How could anyone maintain focus like that? If I lost my focus, it might cost Theo her life.
“In this spell, you don’t have to be Superwoman and carry the energy to save the day; you’re the pilot of the plane that’s carrying the energy that saves the day.”
Her analogies made sense to me. The partial-change instances I knew of had been connected to energy practitioners being in too-close proximity to a wære. If the difference was only in the volume of energy, then this could conceivably work. But I wasn’t going to leap without looking. “Okay, I’m following what you’re saying, but how do we call and harness that much energy? It’s sorcery. How do we control it and focus it and—”
“You learn the spell, prepare, and practice.”
So we had a hope of healing Theo. I imagined the Fates backing away from her thread with their scissors.
Johnny cleared his throat. “That is great news—and I’m excited about it—but hey, I’m dying to open that.” He pointed at the wooden box from Vivian’s car.
“Might as well,” Nana said.
Johnny grinned at me. “Go ahead. Open it.”
“Me?”
“Your house.”
I joined him in front of the Codex and paused. I couldn’t think about the box. Just standing this close to him made me feel keyed up, yet at ease. I reached out to the box, feeling confident with him there, but footsteps on the stairs stopped us. “Just a minute,” I said. “I want to see the doc out.”
Meeting Dr. Lincoln and Celia in the hall, I said, “Thanks for coming by so late. People-doctors aren’t usually that courteous.”
“Well, I gave my word. You are all doing a fine job.”
“Feeding tube?”
“In, no problem. New machine I brought in up there. It will regulate the feeding tube. Celia here has instructions for it.”
I paused, facing Celia. “Nana found a spell in that book that might enable us to force Theo to change. I want to explain it to all of you wæres. It will be your decision whether to do it or not, but I wanted to ask the doctor something about it before he left.”
Dr. Lincoln put his hand up. “Uh, I don’t treat the wære-folk that often but, all that magic stuff aside, is that wise?” He pushed his glasses up his nose. “I mean, she’s very weak. How can you be certain she’ll survive the transformation?”
“That’s what I wanted to ask: Can you do anything to make her stronger? Kind of rev her up and make sure her body has the fuel for a spell like this?”
He considered it. “I have some…” He started to tell us the technical side of it, then changed his mind. “Well, hmmm. I just did something like that for the mare, to get her heart pumping and warm her up so she didn’t slip into hypothermia while we waited for the crane to arrive and lift her out. I could adjust a protein serving for Theo and make, well, a kind of monster energy drink version for her.” He scratched his head. “It…yeah, it might work.”
“Great.”
“There’s some in my truck. Let me go get it and think this through again.” He opened the door and went out.
Ares started barking from the crate in the garage, and it occurred to me that I ought to get the doc to give him his puppy shots so I could at least do some normal business with him. I wondered if Nana had asked the previous owners about shots. I turned to ask Dr. Lincoln about Ares and saw him backing through the door, then standing there, staring outside. His jaw opened and closed repeatedly, but no sound came out.
“What?” I asked, advancing toward him.
His hand came up and he pointed outside. “I think I’ll wait a while.”
I looked out the door.
Standing just beyond the porch rail, directly opposite my open door, stood a man with luminous white skin and pale, pale hair gleaming silver in the waning gibbous moon’s light. I’d have sworn he had to be taller than Johnny’s six feet plus. On his elongated scarecrow of a body he wore shiny black, from his high collar to his toes. The intensity of his expression, the tight vibration of his very presence, and the faint smell of rotting leaves unmistakably identified him as a vampire. But it was his eyes that named him for me. I could detect the color even at this distance—blue, like summer forget-me-nots. I had seen them before, on a child’s picture.
“Goliath,” I said.
His mouth broadened slightly into the most condescending smile I’d ever seen. His chin lowered a minute degree in acknowledgment.
I added, “You killed a friend of mine.”
“Perhaps.”
Beverley stepped into the hall. “Go back to the kitchen,” I said.
“Goliath,” she whispered, her stunned expression turning into a grin.
I stared at her. “You know him?”
“Yeah.”
“Hello, Beverley,” Goliath said.
“You don’t think he’s the vampire that killed my mom, do you?”
I didn’t know what to say. She moved toward the door even as I tried to stop her. “Goliath!”
“Beverley!” he called. His expression too had changed.
I pushed between her and the door. “For now, you let me handle this.” I was afraid she’d invite him in or something equally dangerous. “Go to the kitchen, now. Please, please.”
For a tense second I wondered if she would obey; then she just walked away.
I turned back to the vampire. He kept his tone cool and stated, “I have come for Vivian Diamond and for the book.” His voice was deep. Long vocal cords on a body that tall. It startled me, though. I think it was because from one with hair that pale and fine, I’d expected something softer. Shadows appeared under his cheekbones as he spoke.
This made me notice the sharp angles of his face. Such sharpness should have made him harsh and cruel-looking, but instead he was stunning—in an undernourished, Nordic-supermodel way.