Page 7 of A Resistance of Witches
Lydia hesitated. She’d been a part of Project Diana since she was still just a student, using her skill as a projectionist to track magical objects before they could fall into Nazi hands. Hitler and his army of sycophants had shown a troubling interest in the occult for some time now, twisting whatever lore best suited their needs, gathering up whatever arcane objects caught their fancy and stashing them in mines and castles all over Europe. Most were harmless, shiny bric-a-brac with no real magic. Every once in a while, however, Hitler’s treasure hunters would stumble upon something with real power. This was where Project Diana would step in.Hunting, Isadora called it. Lydia’s projection would venture out in search of the artifact, gathering clues from the object’s surroundings to determine where it might be hidden. Then it was a simple matter of sending an academy Traveler to snatch up whatever tome or relic the Nazis were targeting and hiding it away, safe and sound within the walls of the academy. Lydia usually liked to know as much as she could about the artifacts she tracked, but everything about that evening’s ritual had been kept a closely guarded secret. Strange, as Isadora usually kept her in the closest confidence.
“I’m afraid I haven’t yet been briefed, Grand Mistress,” Lydia said carefully.
Isadora exhaled a plume of smoke, considering her apprentice. “It is essential that you do not discuss what I’m about to tell you with anyone. Do you understand?”
Lydia nodded, but Isadora’s tone made her uneasy.
“You’ll be locating a grimoire. People have called it by different names over the centuries, but the one that seems to have stuck isGrimorium Bellum. Roughly translated,The Book of War. The book’s exact contents have long been a closely guarded secret, one that I’m afraid has become lost over time, although theories persist—spells to rain downfire, shudder the earth. Spells to bring about famine, plague, madness. Some even say it can call forth an army of spectral assassins, capable of razing entire civilizations to the ground.” She examined the glowing end of her cigarette, watching the smoke rise in a single, twisting column. “Rumor and speculation, all. The only thing we do know for certain is that wherever the book goes, death inevitably follows.”
Isadora stopped and held Lydia in her gaze for what felt like a very long time. “I’m sure you can imagine what the Nazis would do if they were to find such a weapon.” It began to rain, droplets splashing against the windowpane.
Yes. Lydia could imagine. She’d seen the newsreels and heard the madman speak. He’d already invaded Poland, Denmark, Norway, and France, only to name a few. It seemed he wouldn’t rest until he held the whole of the world in his fist. His Luftwaffe had already killed thousands of innocent Britons in the Blitz, leaving all of England battered, scarred, and traumatized. And then there were the camps—Jews, Roma, homosexuals, men, women, children, all swept out of the cities and the ghettos, carted away like cattle as part of the Nazis’ monstrous mass extermination effort. She’d heard it from the Seers at the academy, who wandered listless and weeping after the things they’d witnessed in their visions. Millicent Corey lived just down the hall from her in the teachers’ residences. She’d woken screaming one night and didn’t stop for hours, no matter how they’d tried to soothe her, until Lydia had finally gone to the infirmary to get her something to help her sleep.
“Yes, Grand Mistress. I can imagine.” Lydia’s voice did not betray the flush of horror she felt, remembering the things Millicent described.
Isadora leaned forward, and Lydia thought she saw Isadora’s black cigarette tremble slightly between her fingertips.
“Then I don’t need to tell you how important it is that the Nazis do not succeed in finding that book.”
Very far away, Lydia heard what might have been thunder, or the roar of an airplane engine. Isadora’s stoic demeanor returned, and when she spoke again, it was with her usual businesslike tone.
“Our intelligence tells us that the Nazis have been recruiting. Young women, specifically. Many of them orphaned, or otherwise vulnerable. All of them from magical families.”
Lydia felt her blood turn icy. “You think they’re forming a coven?”
Isadora exhaled, perfuming the air with smoke. “I do. However, many on the council disagree with my assessment.” Isadora paused for a moment. “The truth is, the council has lost its appetite for the war effort. They never had much of one to begin with, but I managed to force their hand on the matter three years ago. Now, well…” She trailed off, her gaze fixed on something far away. “I think many of them find it easier to pretend the threat does not exist than to admit that it does and then have to face it.”
Lydia watched Isadora’s face, afraid to speak or even breathe. After a moment, Isadora looked at Lydia, her gaze steely once more. “Dark magic like what’s found in theGrimorium Bellumis extremely taxing to perform. Magic like that requires a full coven, and an auspicious time. The winter solstice is in ten weeks. Whatever the Nazis are planning, I expect they will attempt it then. Our spies believe the Nazis are close to finding the book. I’m asking you to find it first.”
Lydia felt something hardening inside her, crystallizing into a single-minded determination. “How will I track it?”
Isadora put out her first cigarette and lit a second.
“The book was in the antiquities collection at the Louvre, before the Nazis invaded Paris three years ago. Just before the invasion, the most valuable pieces were packed up and taken to Château de Chambord for safekeeping. Many of the pieces have been moved several times since then, scattered across the French countryside in the hopes of keeping them out of Nazi hands. We have reliable intelligence that theGrimorium Bellumwas sent to Château de Laurier in Dordogne. One of our agents was deployed last week to retrieve it, but she was intercepted and forced to flee. By the time she returned, the book had already been moved.”
“Intercepted by whom? The Nazis?”
“Thecurator,” Isadora said, with obvious irritation. “However, our agent had the book in her hands before she was stopped, and was able to get away with a small piece of one of the pages. The agent will be joining us in the ritual, and you will have her energy to work from, as well as the piece she tore from the book.”
Lydia nodded. It would be enough. More than enough. “Who is the agent?”
Isadora stabbed out her cigarette, and sighed.
Three
“I cannot believe you didn’t tell me!” Lydia stood in the open doorway of Kitty’s cluttered bedroom, inside their shared suite on the teachers’ floor of the academy. Kitty lay sprawled on her stomach across her unmade bed, swinging her feet behind her. She looked up from her book with a mix of feigned innocence and gleeful pride.
“Och, I’m so sorry! I wanted to tell you everything, but Isadora was so serious about the whole thing, I was sure she’d hex my whole family if I told.”
“I forgive you, you silly thing.” Lydia tossed herself onto the bed next to Kitty and kicked off her shoes with a sigh. “But only if you tell me everything, I’m dying to know.”
“It was boring, really. Mostly I was just hanging around some drafty castle, pretending to be a pudgy old Frenchman until I could get the book. It was honestly the dullest mission I’d ever done, right up until I got punched in the face.”
“Punched?” Lydia was aghast. “Who punched you?”
Kitty grinned. “Henri Boudreaux.”
“Who?”
