“Anything about a mass spell or ceremony,” he says.
“Especially if it involves human sacrifice,” I add.
“And anything about alternate dimensions or prisons,” Bishop chimes in.
Jessie blows out another breath, her face suddenly so pale that, for a minute, I wonder if she’s going to go down. But then she leans over the book and starts reading.
I can’t help smiling at her then. Paige was right about Jessie.
For the next few hours, the only sound is the shuffling of pages and the occasional battle cry as I release my frustration. I’m ready to suggest taking a quick break for food when Jessie sucks in a breath. She leans in close to a passage.
“What?” I ask.
“I think I found something.”
Bishop and I scramble up to lean over her shoulder.
“Right here,” she says, pointing to a paragraph in the middle of the page.
“?‘All magic works on the basis of manipulating energy already in existence,’?” I read. “?‘Energy cannot be created or destroyed, only transferred into other forms. These are the foundations of our science, the only Truth not to be questioned. Only one magician of the dark arts has ever speculated that this was incorrect.’?”
My mouth runs dry. I wet my lips and keep reading. “?‘He claimed that, under a full moon on All Hallows’ Eve, he’d sacrificed his child as part of a spell that he hoped would create a well to combat the twelve-year drought. He claimed that instead of a well, he’d accidentally ripped a hole in the fabric between dimensions. However, all efforts to re-create this spell failed, and he was tried for murder. The man argued that his child had given his life willingly, but he was found guilty by a jury of his peers, and was hanged, drawn, and quartered in the town square.’?”
I skim the rest of the page, but it says nothing more about the spell or the dark magician.
“What could this mean?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” Jessie says, her tone a bit deflated. “It mentioned sacrifice, so I thought it was important.”
“?‘A hole in the fabric between dimensions,’?” Bishop mumbles. “What if this hole was a door between dimensions?”
“You mean a portal?” I ask.
He shrugs as he chews the corner of a blunt nail, but his eyes tell me he thinks we’re on to something.
“A portal,” I repeat. “Maybe the Chief is trying to re-create the spell.”
“Who’s the Chief?” Jessie asks.
“But why?” I say, ignoring her question.
“To escape Los Demonios,” Bishop says.
I realize it’s true the moment he says the words. “Oh my God. That’s it. That’s what he wants—the second part of the plan. Sacrifice teens to try to make a portal out.”
“Could be, anyway,” Bishop says.
“It is. What else could this mean? We know he wants out. We know he’s kidnapped kids.”
“Who kidnapped who?” Jessie asks. “Are we talking about Paige? What’s this about a portal? You guys are really freaking me out here.”
“What would happen if it worked?” I ask Bishop.
“It wouldn’t be pretty.” Bishop paces the attic, raking his hands through his hair. “No one could stop them. Not even the Family.” He lets out a humorless laugh. “Actually, if Jezebel’s involved there a one hundred percent chance the Family would be their first targets—it’s got to be why she’s helping them. They have a shared enemy. She must have turned to them after we refused to help her.”
My stomach hollows out. “Well, what are we going to do?” I ask.
The attic descends back into silence, the muted chatter of customers filtering up the stairs. We turn back to the book passage, looking for more answers.
“All Hallows’ Eve,” Jessie says. “That means Halloween, right?”
“Yeah,” I say absently, skimming the words.
“Indie.” Bishop’s eyes flash.
And then it hits me what Jessie’s suggesting.
The blood rushes from my head.
“This is it,” Bishop mumbles.
“What? What does it mean?” Jessie asks.
I look at Bishop, then back to the page again, realization slamming into me like a Mack truck.
“The spell is happening tonight.”
24
Aunt Penny takes one look at my face and the book clutched in my hands before she goes into evacuation mode.
“Store’s closed, everybody out!” she yells. The Halloween shoppers packed into the Black Cat gape at her like she’s crazy. She whirls around the counter, snatches a package of bath salts from the customer considering it, and dumps it back on the shelf.
“Come on, get moving!” She gives a teen a shove toward the door. He hurls an insult at her as he stumbles out. The rest of the customers start to follow suit, grumbling and sending annoyed looks at my aunt.
“You too,” she says to Jessie.
Two big red circles bloom on her cheeks. She’s already started for the door when I grab her wrist. “She can stay.”
Aunt Penny starts to argue, but I level her with a glare. She huffs and turns her energy back to kicking out the stragglers who haven’t gotten the hint yet.
Jessie gives me a small smile of gratitude—I just hope I made the right decision.
When the last customer is out the door, Aunt Penny flips the dead bolt and turns off the neon Open sign. And then she turns to me.
“Tell me.”
I look over at Bishop. He’s casually leaning against the big front window, but I can tell by the way he’s flicking his jacket zipper that he’s as anxious about our discovery as I am.
“Jessie found something.” I hand Aunt Penny the book. “The third paragraph.”
She brings the red leather book close to her face, her lips moving as her eyes dart over the words. I pace the store while she reads, wiping my damp palms on my pants.
“I don’t get it,” she says, looking up.
“Child sacrifice,” I say. “A hole—a portal—between dimensions. All Hallows’ Eve.”
Her face pales. She reads the passage again. I want to tell her not to bother—the words aren’t going to change the more times she reads them. I’ve already tried.