10
Back at the cabin, Clay put Asa to bed. In his room. Clay had played nurse for me often enough I trusted him to take care of his partner without me hovering. Asa and I might be swapping spit muffins, but there were rules and traditions and protocols when it came to every aspect of his life and person, it seemed, and I didn’t want to misstep.
And no, I wasn’t tossing out excuses as fast as they came to mind.
Or hiding out in my room because for one heart-stopping moment, I had thought I lost him.
I didn’t even have him. Not really. A hair bracelet and a few dozen cupcakes did not a boyfriend make.
“Rue.”
I jumped a foot in the air when Clay found me. Pacing. Asa’s dried blood still under my nails.
“Hey, now.” He hauled me in for a hug. “He’s sleeping off the healing, that’s all.”
“I don’t like this.” I mashed my face into his chest. “I don’t like feelings.”
“Yeah, you do.” He chuckled and swayed a little with me in his arms. “You’re worried about Ace. That’s a totally normal reaction.”
“Not for me,” I grumbled. “I thought he was…”
“Me too.” He kissed my temple. “Shorty told me about the voice.”
“What do you think it means?” I tipped back my head. “Usually, hearing voices is not a good sign.”
“Hearing voices is never a good sign.” He spun me out in a practiced move and let go of my hand so that I fell onto the mattress. “Do you think she means it literally?” He stretched out on the bed beside me. “Could it be her instincts waking up now that she’s getting regular practice with her magic?”
“Literal, as far as I know.” I curled on my side against him. “Goddess bless, what a mess.”
“We’ll figure it out.” His wide hand stroked up and down my back. “Don’t worry.”
“Oh crap.” I jerked away from him. “I almost forgot.” I thumped my head on the pillow. “The book.”
Braced on one arm, he stared down at me. “What about it?”
“The grimoire.” I spelled it out for him. “David Taylor’s grimoire.”
“That has to be what the witch was after.” I rubbed my temples. “What else could she have meant?”
The name on the inside cover was Proctor, but there was no record of a Proctor working for Black Hat.
Then again, the copycat had admitted David Taylor was a masque. We had no idea of his true identity.
“I forgot you had that.” His lips twisted at one corner. “How much have you read?”
Asa had read it from cover to cover, but Clay wouldn’t have forgotten it if he had put his hands on it. The thing pulsed with black magic even I could sense. That was why I put it in the safe. To dampen its pull. At least that was what I told myself to avoid remembering how the thing liked to move around on its own.
“Enough to know I ought to destroy it after I’ve memorized the parts relevant to Colby.”
Most witches had excellent memories, a requirement for spellwork unless you wanted to drag a sack full of reference grimoires with you everywhere you went for the rest of your life. As soon as I got home, the Colby-inspired passages were top of my to-do list. The sooner I committed that research to memory, the sooner I could set fire to the Proctor magnum opus, whoever they may be or might have been.
“You sure that’s wise?” He rubbed his jaw. “Might be worth a more in-depth read.”
“Tempting me is dangerous.” I wiggled my toes. “I don’t need help making bad decisions.”
“Hey, I warned you off Ace.” He chuckled at my scowl. “It doesn’t get worse than that.”
“Pretty sure there are worse things than crushing on a coworker.”