Page 23 of Druid Cursed

CHAPTER

The silken swish, dark flash of hair, and draft of expensive perfume gave Cara away, but that didn’t stop Maggie from squeaking as her candle fluttered out.

“Gah!” Cara gasped, lifting her lantern high, then her shoulders dropped. “I thought you were going back to your room.”

“And I thought I left you at the build-a-hex workshop.” Maggie arched an eyebrow, her heart rate slowing back to normal.

She sniffed. “What are you doing here?”

Maggie hesitated, but Wendy hadn’t said the scavenger hunt was a secret to be kept. “I’m on a quest. What are you doing here?”

“Same.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” Cara cocked a hip, looking insulted.

“Do I honestly seem to be the type of person who wanders about in the woods with rabid creatures or sneaks about shadowed libraries without a good reason? I only made an appearance at the pajama party so no one would get suspicious and ask where I was.”

“Were you given a scavenger hunt, too?”

She paused half a second too long to be believable. “Exactly.”

Maggie narrowed her eyes. So, not a scavenger hunt, but a personal quest. “For your ill grandmother?”

The tightening of Cara’s mouth told her she’d guessed right. Then her nod confirmed it.

“Maybe we can help each other.”

Cara paused, looking unsure. She then cleared her throat and said in a small, hushed voice, “I’d like that. Let’s find your item first. What book are you looking for?”

“Not a book—a key.”

Her eyebrows went up. She opened the lantern, relit Maggie’s candle, and handed it back to her. “Sounds like you need more help than I do.”

“I get that a lot.”

“You start your search. After I find the book I need, I’ll help you…find a key.” Cara snorted softly and headed deeper into the darkness. “In a library that’s bigger than a museum. Shouldn’t take longer than a week.” The glow from her lantern vanished as she turned a corner.

“Thanks for the pep talk.”

“Welcome.”

The library, even draped in shadows and only surrendering glimpses in the candlelight, was epic.

The glow from Maggie’s candle couldn’t hope to reach the vaulted ceilings.

Shelves filled every wall, made of artistically carved dark wood.

She trailed her finger along the bas relief design in vines and flowers as she drifted deeper in.

Freestanding bookcases lined up like towering soldiers on either side of her, and not all the shelves possessed books.

There was the odd framed insect or butterfly, sculptures in marble or iron, baskets and pottery, artifacts that looked like they came from ages past. She smiled.

This was a playground for her. She couldn’t wait to find the suit of armor and sword on display.

And if Kellen was as old as he claimed, maybe this was his personal collection.

A centuries-old druid. Right.

The gentle glow of another candle flickered around the corner of a bookshelf.

Was someone else here besides Cara? An awkward conversation with one of the other guests was definitely not on her slither-into-the-library-after-midnight agenda.

Tucking the candle behind her back, she crept forward to the edge.

The bookshelves opened into a small space with a two-person table and chairs. A single candle burned low, as if it had been there for some time, waiting for its owner to return. A closed book sat on the table beside the candle.

“Cara?” she called, not overly loud. No one answered. Cara must be farther in, unable to hear her. Maybe whoever had left their candle had forgotten about it.

Maggie approached and held her candle over the book, reading the title etched into the leather cover.

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. Kellen’s favorite childhood book.

A thrill of excitement shivered through her.

Had he left it here for her? Or was the clue Wendy wanted her to find hidden inside it?

“You called?” Cara stepped from behind a bookshelf. “Did you find your key?”

“Nope. But I found a book.”

“In a library? How odd.” Cara stepped near, lifting her lantern for a better look.

Maggie opened the cover and couldn’t stop a smile at the scrawling, charcoal image of a knight with a sword, clearly drawn by an adolescent hand.

It wasn’t hard to imagine that this was the same book Kellen had read growing up, dreaming of adventures.

Maybe, in a moment of nostalgia after telling her about it, he’d pulled it out to read later.

Just thinking about him holding the book in his long fingers, his stern features relaxed, made her heart swell, feeling warm and fuzzy.

Good grief. He wasn’t even here and still affected her concentration.

“Not the one I’m looking for, unfortunately.” Cara lowered her lantern.

“But check this beauty out.” Setting her own candle on the table, Maggie carefully turned the page.

The vellum was soft and worn, the handwritten words in Old English faded.

She felt as though she’d found a long-lost treasure attuned solely to her.

The book reflected everything she loved about writings in the medieval age—the artful care taken with each letter, the antiquated words themselves, the intricate illustrations in vibrant colors and romantic designs nestled within the letters and margins. “Each page is a masterpiece.”

“I guess if you’re into exotic alphabets and twisted animal illustrations.”

“Definitely. It’s a shame books aren’t created with such painstaking attention anymore, each facet connected to the other, every pen stroke important to the pattern as a whole, the balance planned and precise.

” Maggie couldn’t keep the wistfulness from her voice.

“I wish I could be even a sliver of such artwork, where I’m an important part of a grand blueprint far bigger than myself, and if I was gone, I’d be missed because my tiny contribution matters. ”

“That’s…a beautiful thought.” Cara wiped at her eye and turned away in a swish of silk, too late to hide the shine of a tear. “I’m headed to the upper level and probably won’t be able to hear you. I’ll let you know if I run across a random key.” And she was gone again.

Maggie’s long exhale made the candle flame flutter. Ravenwood and all its weirdness was making her gushy.

She turned the next page and went still, goose bumps peppering her arms. The body of a serpent made up the knotwork borders surrounding the paragraph.

Its open maw and fangs curled and flowed into the first, detailed letter.

Intricate brambles represented its scales in every shade of green, metallic and shining beneath the candlelight.

In the gloom, the reflection made it seem as if the snake moved.

Lightly, she traced the outline, from the tip of its barbed tail, around the curve of its body at the bottom of the page, marveling at the craftsmanship, the rich colors, the…

Key.

At the base of the snake’s skull, a black, sharp-edged key nestled within the calligraphy design, drawn with such detail that it appeared almost real.

A web of translucent threads, thin and delicate as spider silk, covered the key.

The threads shimmered, too realistic to be ink, and she watched, fascinated, as they unraveled and the key faded.

In the key’s place, a picture formed, and her pulse skipped in recognition.

The doors with the black raven leading into Kellen’s castle came into focus, only it was in black and white, like an old-time movie coming to life.

She couldn’t look away as the image shifted, heading through the doors and into the great room.

Warning prickles ran along her nerves. Something terrible was going to appear in the moving picture behind the web, and she couldn’t. Look. Away.

Look away! Her body refused the desperate command.

The air in the library seemed to drop a dozen degrees.

Her breath made a fleeting cloud above the page, briefly disrupting her view of the castle.

With a gasp, she squeezed her eyes shut and closed the book before she gave in to the urge to look again.

She hated scary movies. So why hadn’t she been able to tear her gaze from whatever horror waited around the corner of Kellen’s castle?

Maggie pulled her sweater closer, her heart thudding viciously on her breastbone, all her senses on overdrive. Air cold enough to see her breath. No lights. A creepy-crawly sense that she wasn’t alone anymore, and it had nothing to do with Cara elsewhere in the library.

Taking her candle, she eased behind a tall bookcase and blew out the flame.

As much as she hated the idea of being alone in the dark, the need to eliminate any hint of her presence was stronger.

Maggie inched backward, until she was completely beyond the glow cast by the candle remaining on the table, and wrapped her arms around herself, her hands icy.

Maybe this was all Ravenwood Halloween theatrics, but she wasn’t going to hang around waiting for something scary to find her.

A gap between two books offered a window to see whatever wicked thing came her way. She wasn’t sure she wanted to see what—no, who —it might be, but like a spider in her bedroom, it was better to know the exact location of the danger than to guess.

Movement stirred in the thick shadows at the end of the hallway, followed by the tempo of soft steps approaching.

Maggie held her breath as the owner of the steps moved into the candlelight.

Definitely not Cara in her white silk robe.

Someone wearing a hooded black cloak stopped at the table.

Darkness hid their face, but the hood tilted to the side, as if whoever examined the cover of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight found it fascinating.

Hands—thankfully human—slipped from the overlong sleeves.

Long, pale fingers slowly removed the cowl.

Wendy! Maggie’s breath left her in a relieved whoosh . Thank God she was really okay.