She wasn’t a spider expert.
Nor did she want to be.
Though she had a serious suspicion she was about to become one before long.
Running her hand along it, she was at least relieved to find that it didn’t move, it didn’t bite her, and it didn’t hurt. It felt like anoldtattoo. It’d also be easy enough to hide with her t-shirts. She debated lying about it to the others, claiming she’d always had it. But that went out the window pretty quickly. A seven-legged, green, Celtic spider tattoo?
No. They’d see right through that shit instantly. Nos would, at the very least.
“What did youdoto me?” Now she was talking to herself. First to trees, then to herself. Great. She pulled the chemise back over the tattoo, not wanting to look at it anymore. She hated spiders. And she was going to get spooked every time she saw it in the mirror, thinking one was on her.Thanks, jerk.
But she knew what Serrik did to her.
He’d given her access to his magic.
Not like she knew how to use it. She supposed that part probably came next. Shaking her head, she walked out of the room. She should get dressed, go find Ibin, and figure out what the next steps with them were, or if she could get some food because she was starv?—
She stopped.
The book was sitting on the table by the fireplace. One, that wasn’t where she left it. And two?
It was open.
The pages were blank. But it was wide open. Inviting her to come look at it. “This is a trap. I know it’s a trap.” Ava pointed at it. “Listen.Hocus Pocuswas, like, my favorite movie growing up. And the sequel was pretty good. Bette Midler can still rock it. But I know how you cursed books operate. You’re going to eat my hand or sprout an eye or eat my face off or—or something.”
The book just sat there.
Open.
Waiting.
“Son of a bitch.”She knew she swore too much. She’d always been given crap for that her whole life. But she stopped caring. Especially recently. Running both her hands down her face, she stared at the book. Should she ignore it? Or investigate?
The damn thing followed her. It was leashed to her like a puppy.
A cursed puppy. A cursed magical puppy.
“Fine. Fine, okay. Whatever.” She threw up her hands in frustration. “Why not? Why not. Let’s see how you can make this shit-show even worse. Somehow. Because I know you’re not going to make this any better, Book.”
Naming it Book just felt right. And slightly insulting for something that was apparently a thing that could access all magical spells ever written in all of human existenceincludingin the future. So, it suited her needs.
Stepping forward, she looked down at it.
It did nothing.
“Am I supposed to say something?” She put her hands on her hips. “Wiggle my fingers? Do some…mumbo jumbo? If so, you’re out of luck, buddy.” She laughed. “I have no idea what I’m doing. So you better skip the preamble and just get to it.”
She jumped back in surprise as, apparently, Book listened to her. The pages started to whip by violently as if turned, not by wind, but an impossibly fast hand. It settled on a new set of pages.
And these werenotblank. But illustrated like some sort of Medieval or Renaissance manuscript. Both pages were gilt and colorful, inked and displaying figures tangled up in some kind of…it was hard to make out.
She stepped forward to see what it was representing.
Her heart sank.
It was a war.
It showed total desolation—cars and cities, planes and tanks, modern-day human things shown as flaming wreckages in the antique style—human bodies strewn about, mixed in amongst twisted forms of creatures she recognized now as the fae.
