Page 15 of Clarity
“Li tounen,?*” my Aunt Clerie exclaimed, hopping straight up to help my mother. I frowned at that, but couldn’t focus on it once she got to where I was to give me a hug, squeezing me so tightly it took my breath away. Clerie didn’t even wait for her to be done; she just joined in, wrapping both of us in her arms for another layer of squeezing I had to wriggle my way out of.
“Bonswa?*,” I greeted, laughing as they stepped back.
Both of their eyes narrowed at me, and then they looked at each other.
“Dorah, li paret diferan?*,” Clerie said, motioning at me. “What do you think it is?”
“What’s going on with you, child?” my mother questioned, clearly picking up on whatever Clerie had.
Which worried me.
Did I…shit.
Do I look well-fucked?
“Nothing,” I denied, pulling my bag around from my shoulder to unzip it. I barely had it undone when both women gasped.
Myfirst thought was that Parris had popped up. I whipped around, expecting to find him behind me. Instead, the foyer was empty and my mother was grabbing me by the arms.
“You’re wearing your scapolite. What’s wrong?! Tell me now!”
“Rilaks, monmon, souple?*,” I insisted. “If you let me just explain, please?”
“Talk quickly, child!”
“I found one of the Pierre Grimoires,” I huffed, reaching into my bag for it. For a brief flash, when my hand didn’t immediately land on the leather pouch I’d wrapped it in for protection, I considered that I’d been robbed again, by a certain vampire.
Ugh.
How thirsty could I be, all my thoughts going back to him when he wasn’t even in the room?
My fingertips landed on the textured fabric and I pulled it out, revealing the item to the two people who could appreciate it even more than I had.
Afterall, they were the keepers of this shop.
Until recently, they were a trio. My Aunt Este, Roseline’s mother, had passed recently, due in no small part to the deterioration of our family’s magical thread. She’d been ill as a child, but as long as anyone could remember, intricate spells and rune work, tattooed right on her skin, had kept her whole. Over the years, other things had been sacrificed to keep the flow of power going in her direction.
And then, one day, it wasn’t enough.
Another reason I didn’t act an ass with Roseline, who I used to be close with.
She missed her mother.
But so did Dorah and Clerie. The three of them had been avid readers, collectors, and apothecaries. Hence, the shop. The obscure, one-of-a-kind, and just plain fuckingweirdcould be found here, in books, herbs, whatever.
Of their children, I was the one who picked up the knack for collecting, andmanyof my finds ended up here. The sisters didn’t do much traveling anymore, but I found my way all over the place, meeting people and being nosy and earning favors.
Which was how the grimoire came into my possession.
“Did you have to wear the scapolite to open it? To read it?” Clerie asked, her voice and eyes full of awe as I pulled it from the pouch to place in my mother’s hands.
“No,” I answered. “I put on the scapolite because of what I read on the first pages. I felt I needed… reinforcement.”
“Well good lord, what did you see?” Mama asked, carrying the grimoire to the kitchen table. Outwardly, the appearance suggested it was crumbling, and fragile, but the pages were imbued with magic. It would hold on for a long while. “I can feel the power in it,” she said, running her fingers over the intricately embroidered cover.
We were flanking her now, and she looked between me and Clerie once more before she turned her attention back to the book, flipping it to that first page; as far as I’d gotten.
Initially, it was a historical accounting of our family saga—Hispaniola, West Africa, Saint Domingue, the revolution, and of course, Louisiana. I’d eaten those parts up, quizzing myself on the information me and my cousins had been sprinkled with over the years.