I left them to it, continuing up to my flat. I grabbed a bagel out of the kitchen and didn't even bother to toast it, just shoved a bite in my mouth as I went to the couch. I needed to eat but didn’t want to take the time to prepare anything. It was pretty terrible, though.
I flopped on the couch and looked at the book.
A sharp little noise drew my attention to the partially open window.
The raven sat there, staring at me.
The seer had said to find the raven, but the bird was making it easy. “You know, you’re getting a bit creepy.”
The raven flew over and landed on the cushion next to me, staring down at the book with gleaming black eyes.
“You want me to read it to you?” I asked.
The raven didn't so much as twitch.
I took a huge bite of dust-dry bagel and chewed determinedly as I flipped open the book.
What the hell?
Like before, the writing was nearly indecipherable. Scribbles that didn’t look a jot like English. Or any other language I’d ever seen, for that matter.
I held it up to the bird. “Can you read this?”
The bird said nothing. I hadn’t really expected it to, but if this new world had taught me anything, it was that you shouldn’t underestimate the language capacities of the furred, fanged, or winged.
I began to flip through the book, looking for a language I recognized. I was really only fluent in English, but I could recognize a few more and was willing to type the text into an online translator.
Unfortunately, nothing clicked.
I dug into my pocket and pulled out Rasla’s seal. Holding it up, I looking for a clue in the stone. They’d been stored together, so maybe the seal would help me read the book. I studied the emblem on it. The Celtic design looked nothing like the ones in the book, and his name certainly wasn’t helpful. I put the seal back and continued to search the book for anything I recognized.
There was nothing.
Except, that wasn’t true. I couldn’t read the words, but I could feel something in them. It was like my soul was beginning to buzz with energy. A sense of recognition zipped between the book and me, powerful and strange.
Finally, I turned to a page with several twisty, Celtic-looking symbols. I’d never seen anything like them before—not even on Rasla’s seal—but they called to me. Fiercely.
Gently, I pressed my fingertips to the page and felt a jolt of energy travel up my arm.
Magic surged within me, both familiar and foreign. It fizzed through my veins, filling my soul with light. Pressure built, an undeniable need to do something.
The bird squawked, so close I could touch it.
I wanted to touch it.
My fingertips buzzed to press against the smooth feathers, to feed some of my magic into the bird. Instinct drove me—or maybe it was the book, feeding knowledge into my soul. Whatever it was, everything suddenly felt natural. Inevitable.
I kept one hand pressed to the book and raised the other. The bird watched me with wary black eyes, head tilted.
Then it hopped closer.
Shaking, I rested my fingertips against its smooth, ebony feathers. Magic exploded within me, bursting out through my fingertips and into the bird.
Light glowed around the feathered animal, and it squawked loudly. I jerked, nearly removing my hand. But instinct stopped me.
I kept my fingertips pressed to the bird’s feathers, letting the magic surge from me into the small creature. The book felt like a conduit or a battery, helping my magic flow with incredible ease and power. I still couldn’t read the symbols on the page, but somehow, my soul understood what was happening.
The magic shifted, growing stronger. With it, the bird began to grow. Light glowed from it so brightly that I could no longer see the creature.
The air popped, and power sparked across my skin.
When the light died, the bird was gone.
A person sat next to me.
Beatrix.
Holy fates, it was Beatrix, her red hair gleaming in the light. Shock dropped my stomach to my knees, and I gasped.
My long dead friend…returned?
8
Carrow
Weak from magic use, I stared at the figure on the couch.
Beatrix.
It was her—there was no doubt. Same brilliant red hair, green eyes, pale skin. The same little scar through her brow that she’d got when we’d gone rock climbing in the Peak District, and she’d fallen.
Confusion flickered in her eyes, along with fear. She leapt off the couch, spinning around, her gaze frantic.
“Beatrix?” I rose slowly, my heart thundering a mile a minute. What the hell had happened? “Is it really you?”
“Um…” She looked down at her arms, brow creased in concern, then looked up at me. “It is.”
“You’re not…dead?” My skin chilled. I’d seen her body.
“I don’t think so?” Confusion echoed in her voice. Her eyes flicked up to mine. “And you’re truly here?”
“Yes.” I threw my arms around her, thrilled when she felt solid and real.
My magic flared to life, trying to read her the way it always did. In my mind flashed images of the sky and trees from above. From her time as a bird?
She laughed and hugged me back. It felt so good to hug my friend again. It’d been over a year since she’d been murdered by the necromancer’s henchman. I’d thought her gone forever.
She winced, pulling back. Pain twisted her features, and she reached up to rub her head.
Concern flared to life inside me. “Are you all right?”
“Um—” She swallowed hard, staggering slightly. “Some memories are coming back. Foggy, though.”
“Come.” I grabbed her arm and pulled her to the small table near the kitchen. “Sit and have some tea. Get your bearings.”
She nodded and sat, looking around with confusion. “This isn’t your normal place.”
“It’s long gone. We’re not even really in London anymore.”
“Not in London?” She jumped up from the chair and went to the window, staggering slightly. I raced after her, wanting to stop her, to force her to sit and recover, but I couldn’t imagine how confused she was. If she wanted to see it for herself, I wouldn’t stop her.
And hell, she’d survived death. She’d surely survive a little stumble in my living room. She pushed the window open further, and I realized she was wearing the same clothes she’d died in. The T-shirt had a slogan on the back from a bar we liked: “For a good time, go to Sal’s.”
Sal’s had not been a particularly good time, but we’d both been broke and appreciated a free T-shirt.
She leaned out and looked around. “Holy crap. It’s like we’ve gone back in time.”
I joined her and looked out at the steeply peeked roofs, wooden beams, white plaster, and mullioned windows. “Yep. You don’t remember it at all?”
She squinted, looking hard at the roofs and clouds. “I do, actually. But mostly from above. I was…a bird? Flying through this city?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“How is that possible?”
“So you didn’t know that magic existed? That you would turn into a bird when you died?” Where the hell did I even start with the questions?