Page 12 of Potion of Deception (Potion of Deception #1)

She came to a little bookshelf with a few old sorcery books.

Her fingers glided down the spines and then she picked one in a burgundy cover.

The spine was so shabby that it almost let the book fall to the floor as it opened.

Specks of dust rose into the air causing Violette to sneeze.

She wrinkled her nose and almost sneezed again but it didn't come out.

Dispelling the dust haze with her hand, she finally looked inside.

Pages of the book were covered with different descriptions of flowers and their meanings in the sorcery world.

Violette read a book like this before, as much as it was interesting it wasn't valued in her current situation.

She leaned to the shelf again. One of the books was dedicated to rituals, another had strange symbols she hadn't seen before.

It made her curious and she reached her hand out, placing the flower book back on the shelf.

It was covered with writing in a foreign language and inked pictures of different monsters and demons that hid in the darkness.

Whatever it said – it wasn't a book about good magic for sure.

She placed it back and suddenly felt some strange pull, a thread that connected her to something that was not here before.

She spun her head in the way her heart suggested and it led her to a little table near the wall.

There were two little jewelry boxes brimming with herbs and dried flowers – lavender, blue lupine and purple anemone.

Another thing on the table she observed was a little dark velvet bust with a ruby necklace upon its neck, though it also was not the thing that led her here.

She pressed her hands on the dusty table in search of a thing that called her.

Magic objects very rarely radiated an energy other wizards could feel but when the feeling was there it meant something.

In that case, Violette felt whatever the old witch left here, it could be enchanted to be found one day.

She leaned over to look under the table to find out it actually had a dilapidated ledge.

“Huh,” she exhaled.

A secret drawer? With that thought she pressed on the table's inner surface .

A brisk snap rang out, waking up the silence as the drawer rolled forward.

Violette's eyes witnessed a thick book in a shabby leather cover.

A little magenta gem in the center between twirls glimmered in a cold light.

The cracks on the leather hinted the book was extremely old, outliving at least a century.

Violette carefully studied the parchment pages.

She had no idea what it was about – the pages scrawled with little pictures and recipes followed by the text written in language she'd never seen before.

She glanced at the cover again – nothing except dancing oblong squiggly tracery. No words, no name.

Although Violette had never seen a book like this and there was not a word she could understand, there was no doubt it was the thing she was looking for. She could feel it.

Dante waited near the entrance into the secret passage, twirling some kind of trinket in his hands, more likely one of the jewels from the witch's little boxes. But as soon as he sensed Violette, he carelessly threw it aside and bolted his gaze to her.

Stepping closer, she handed him the book.

“That's all that I found. Only, I didn't understand a single word.”

Dante plunged his eyes lower and pulled the book from her hand. He attentively scrutinized its cover before opening it. His eyes were gliding through the pages as his greed started to grow with every turn in search of something.

“Do you know what it is?” Violette peered in the book. The old brown pages were painted in strange and weird letters, or was it rather pictures? She didn't have time to catch it, as Dante was flipping through it very fast.

He didn't say a word, just kept skimming through it, sparking Violette's interest. Had he known what these symbols meant, for how smart and thoughtful he looked at the moment, or was he trying to understand what he was reading? He was definitely looking for something specific.

When he finally took his gaze off the book, his eyes shifted to Violette’s face.

“It's Heggas’ language.” His voice was peremptory, calm, which couldn't be said about his chaotic fingers iterating through the pages seconds before.

“Heggas? Aren't they like legends or something?” She skeptically tilted her head to the side.

She hadn't remembered much about them – only that they were evil witches that were cursing people, menacing chaos long before she was born.

“Oh, I wish they would be legends or even better – a mythical thing.” His hand scrubbed over his jaw. “Unfortunately, they're real, there just are not a lot of them left.” It sounded like relief from his mouth. Perhaps, for everyone , if all that was written about them was true.

“So, this book belongs to one of them?”

“Yes,” he said shortly.

It was a strange thing to assume because the woman in the portrait behind them was nothing like how Heggas were pictured in stories. Were this woman and the one who the secret room belonged to the same person?

“How do you know? You understand what is written here?” Violette let loose her curiosity.

“Not really. I recognize some of these symbols but to read it we need someone who actually knows this language.” His eyes dropped to the pages again.

“So we will be looking for a Hegga?”

“A Hegga is the last thing I want to see,” Dante gritted his teeth. “There's someone else who can read this book.”

Violette raised her brows, astonished. “Who?”

“The Witches of Emerald Capes.” The book slammed close in his hand.

Violette's lashes batted. “I've never heard of them.”

“It's a community of witches who take their power from nature and praise it. They engage in all sorts of strange rituals, but the main thing is that they know Heggas’ language.” With those words he started to move in the direction of the exit and as he made a few steps something fell out of the book right on the ground.

“Wait,” Violette quickly picked it up. It was a piece of paper folded in half. The cursive writing on the beige parchment indicated that it was intended for Dante. She raised her eyes as he stalked closer and extended the letter to him. “It's for you.”

He roughly opened the parchment, quickly running his eyes over what was written inside and then…

just threw it away. There was nothing to read in his eyes, as if the letter hadn’t touched him at all.

Only impassivity stared back at her. Violette's eyes darted to the place where the letter landed, startled by this simple action.

“Nothing important.” He got ahead of her question as she glanced at him, about to open her mouth. And then turned back to go away.

Violette's feet glued to the floor, her eyes fixated on the paper hidden in the shadow now. She didn't have the right to read it, to pick it up, so she could do nothing except just to leave.

“So,” she tried to change the topic and go back to their previous conversation as she neared. “Are these witches some kind of sorceresses or are they indeed witches?”

“Well, they're not like you, but still they're not like Heggas either. I'm not familiar with their heritage. In my opinion they are just a bunch of crazy weirdos. But they can read this language,” Dante finished as they ended up at the crypt entrance again.

Violette raised her eyes to the moon, fresh night air played with her nose. How nice it was to see the stars after darkness in the tomb, they seemed brighter than before.

She looked around – the graves and the headstones erupted goosebumps over her skin, making her wish to leave this place immediately.

“And where can we find them?” she let out, stepping on the steps down.

“They celebrate a new moon in the North Forest every new cycle.” He raised his head and took a gander at the moon. “It will be in two days if I'm not mistaken. We have time.”

“And we just ask them for help?” she wondered.

“Exactly,” Dante nodded placidly.

Violette couldn't stop pondering. She'd never heard about a secret circle of these witches or any circle at all.

Specifically, she'd never heard about witches whose powers were connected to nature.

Of course, regular witches were working with its gifts, brewing healing potions and cures using different herbs, but they didn't have such a deep relationship with nature as Dante described the Witches Of Emerald Capes.

She'd never heard about someone taking magic from nature at all.

Objects were able to absorb magic with the right ritual, it was a common thing but a person – never.

Though she should remember these lands were different from her homeland, they had another type of magic and most legends and stories have never made it to her home, they just got lost on the way.

“Meanwhile, we're waiting for the crescent moon, we stay in the town.” Snow crunched under Dante's boots.

The air, cold and exhilarating, filled Violette's lungs, every step accompanied by the creaking of snow, following the forest sounds.

A few minutes later her eyes spotted the warning sign about the forest again as they passed the town gates.

The empty streets and lonely lanterns were the only things they met on their way to the nearest place to stay.

The town was still sleeping. Didn't matter what time it was, Violette didn't feel very tired as her curiosity was ringing in her head, and yet she assumed it was deep night, perhaps almost morning.

The inn they stayed in was a cozy little house with two floors. Dante paid an old lady for two rooms before they walked upstairs.

Violette had felt like she should say something as her fingers reached the handle of the door.

“We will stay here for two days,” Dante suddenly spoke first. “Until then try not to get into something that can cause…any inconvenience.”