Page 12 of Bewitched by the Fruit Bat King (The Bewitching Hour #3)

His smile is pure predator. "Wear something nice. Where we're going doesn't allow squash of any kind."

I watch him leave, the bond humming with anticipation and something that feels dangerously like excitement. The book in my arms seems to pulse with possibility.

"Well," Mrs. Haversham's voice drifts through the stacks, "that was far more entertaining than my usual morning haunting."

I sink into a nearby chair, the leather creaking beneath me. "I'm not falling for him."

"Of course not, dear." She materializes in the chair across from me, arranging her ghostly skirts. "Though I must say, for someone not falling, you're certainly doing an impressive job of research."

I open the book with more force than necessary. "It's professional curiosity."

"Mmhmm." She adjusts her spectral spectacles. "And I suppose that mate bond I can see glowing between you is just professional courtesy?"

My head snaps up. "You can see it?"

"Ghost, dear. We see all sorts of things the living miss." She smirks. "Though I have to say, yours is particularly... vibrant. Almost as bright as his parents' was."

"His parents?" Something clicks in my brain. "Wait, what do you mean 'was'?"

But she's already floating away through the shelves, humming what sounds suspiciously like the wedding march.

I look down at the book in my lap, then at my watch. Six hours until dinner. Plenty of time to do some research about vampire mate bonds, Drake family history, and exactly what kind of dress code forbids squash.

The bond gives an amused pulse, like Kane knows exactly what I'm thinking.

I'm not falling for him.

I'm not.

I settle deeper into the leather chair, the stamp book temporarily forgotten as Mrs. Haversham's words echo in my mind. His parents had a mate bond too? The curiosity itches under my skin like wild magic.

"Excuse me," I call out to a passing ghost page. "Could you point me toward the local genealogy section?"

Ten minutes later, I'm surrounded by towering stacks of historical records, family histories, and what appears to be a self-updating supernatural society column that keeps changing gossip from different centuries.

The massive oak table I've claimed as my research headquarters groans under the weight of leather-bound volumes.

The afternoon sun shifts through the rose window above, casting prisms across the pages as I search.

Each beam highlights different sections of the circular reading room, illuminating the three floors of books connected by those elegant iron staircases.

Someone's enchanted origami bird flutters past, probably carrying a note between study groups.

I flip through "Distinguished Supernatural Lineages" with careful fingers, pausing at the Drake family tree.

Kane's parents' names jump out immediately – Alexander and Isabelle Drake.

Their mate bond was apparently legendary, strong enough to influence supernatural politics across continents.

But the entry ends abruptly with their death date, the ink slightly smudged as if someone had been crying while writing it.

My phone buzzes against the polished wood.

Luna: Where are you? Your shop's closed.

Me: Library. Research. Luna: On a certain vampire?

?? Me: No! Maybe. Kind of? Bethany: WHAT DID YOU FIND?

? Me: Nothing yet. But I need help. Emergency meeting at 5?

Luna: Dress crisis? Me: That too. But also found something weird about family history.

Bethany: OMG SCANDALOUS ANCESTOR DRAMA??

Me: Maybe? Bring wine. Luna: On it. The good stuff or the GOOD stuff?

Me: The 'I agreed to dinner with Kane' stuff Bethany: !

!!!!!!!!! Luna: Coming with reinforcements. And dresses.

I silence my phone before Mrs. Haversham can materialize to shush me, turning back to the records. Something about Kane's family tree nags at me. The dates seem... odd. I grab another volume, this one specifically about vampire-witch alliances.

That's when I see it.

Viktor Drake, Kane's several-times-great grandfather, and beside his name... Hazel Florence. My fingers trace the elegant script, heart pounding. Florence – a name I remember vaguely from the genealogy in my family grimoire. Though I don’t remember anything about her.

The entry describes them as recognized fated mates, their bond supposedly strong enough to make others physically uncomfortable to be near them.

But the next page makes my blood run cold. Viktor's marriage announcement – to Evangeline Blackstone. No mention of what happened to Hazel. No explanation for how he could marry someone else when fated mate bonds are supposedly unbreakable.

The bond in my chest pulses with unease as I dig deeper. More volumes, more records, but the story remains frustratingly incomplete. No further mention of Hazel Florence at all, like she'd been erased from history.

A book floats down from the upper shelves, settling gently beside my elbow. "Florence Family Grimoires: A Historical Collection" gleams in gilt letters on its spine. I reach for it with trembling fingers, the leather warm and almost alive under my touch.

The same names appear inside, but when I turn to the crucial pages – they're gone. Torn out, leaving only ragged edges and a lingering sense of old magic.

"Finding something interesting?"

I nearly jump out of my skin at Mrs. Haversham's voice. She hovers by my shoulder, studying the mess of books spread across the table.

"Mrs. H," I try to keep my voice steady, "what happened between Viktor Drake and Hazel Florence?"

The temperature around us drops several degrees. Even the dust motes freeze in their lazy dance through the sunbeams.

"That's not a story for these hours," she says carefully, glancing at the stained glass windows. "Some histories are better left in the past."

"But they were fated mates," I press. "Like Kane's parents. Like..." I gesture vaguely between myself and the direction Kane left in.

"Yes." Her spectral form shivers slightly. "Though not all mate bonds end in happiness, dear. Some end in..." She trails off, adjusting her glasses. "Well. Perhaps you should check your own family records. These books only tell the official version."

She fades away before I can ask more, leaving me with an ominous warning and way too many questions.

My phone buzzes again.

Luna: Your place or mine for emergency meeting? Me: Mine. Bring that black dress? Bethany: And shoes! I found THE PERFECT PAIR Me: Nothing that'll make me fall into another vampire's arms Luna: Too late for that ?? Me: I hate you both Bethany: Love you too! See you at 5!

I gather my materials, carefully marking pages to come back to later. The Florence grimoire refuses to return to its shelf, hovering stubbornly at my elbow until I shove it in my bag.

What happened between Viktor and Hazel? Why isn't it in any of the official records? And why do I have a feeling tonight's dinner conversation might veer from stamps to something much more personal?

At least I'll have wine and friends to help me prepare for whatever revelations await. Assuming Luna's taste in dresses is more "sophisticated dinner date" and less "scandal the ghost librarians."

I really, really need that wine.