Witcha Gonna Do? (Witchington #1)(56)
He nods. “It’ll work out perfect because everyone will be monitoring for magical activities. No one expects an outré getaway.”
“And that’s what makes us so perfect,” Tilda says. “We have honed all of the skills they don’t think are important, and that’s what’s going to make this heist a success.”
She isn’t wrong. In Witchingdom, everything is about power. Who has it? What kind? Can you get them to use it for your needs instead of theirs? Someone without magic or who can’t get a spell out without sneezing or fucking up the words doesn’t even manage to be a blip on most witches’ radar.
“So after that we rendezvous back at the train?” Birdie asks.
“Correct. Then we head back to Wrightsville and save my family.” She looks around at everyone. “Any questions? Did I miss anything?” When no one says anything, she looks over at me. “Is there anything we should know about The Liber Umbrarum?”
It’s a solid question. Most spell books—especially the old ones—have their own kind of magic embedded into the pages from decades and decades of witch work being done around them. As far as the stories go, though, this spell book is more like Teflon than a sponge. Of course, that doesn’t mean it isn’t without its issues.
“Eli and Birdie, you should be prepared for The Liber Umbrarum to be heavy,” I say. “It reportedly weighs close to fifty pounds.”
Eli’s eyebrows go up with surprise. “It has that many pages?”
“No, it has that much inlaid gold on the cover, golden threads woven into the pages, and gold ink was used to paint a scene of Druids’ runes on the page edges of the book. Then there are the gems around the edge of the cover held there by a spell that supposedly can never be broken.”
Birdie lets out a low whistle. “How much is it worth?”
“It’s priceless, which is why witches have coveted it for centuries.” The Liber Umbrarum’s history is littered with stories about the lengths witches have gone to just to hold it. The fact that the Svensens not only figured out a way to possess it but are willing to display it for the world to see goes to show just how much juice that family has. “I’ve heard rumors of how much people are willing to pay for it—no questions asked—and it’s enough money to equate to the GDP of a midsized country with a strong economy.”
“Which is why,” Tilda breaks in, presumably before I can really freak out the rest of our crew with some of the book’s bloody history, “we’ll be returning it to the Svensen family as soon as we unfreeze my family. We’re not thieves. We’re borrowers.”
Vance snorts. “Yeah, I’m sure they’ll recognize the distinction.”
“And since Eli and Birdie will be in disguise,” Tilda rushes on, “no one will realize that we’re the ones who have stolen it, which means we won’t have to worry about someone purloining it from us and hocking it on the black market for massive amounts of fast cash.”
Vance leveled a hard look my way. “That won’t be an issue.”
I’d be offended if it weren’t for the fact that the unicorn shifter isn’t that far off from the truth.
My dad has told stories about The Liber Umbrarum for as long as I can remember. What it looks like. The power of the spells. How much a collector would pay for it, and how that kind of money could take us from a life of always looking over our shoulders to a peaceful existence on some speck of land in the ocean. I don’t even have to concentrate hard to hear my dad’s voice as he shares theories about who wrote the book and what all is in it—after all, that talk is what inspired me to go into historical spells and what garnered the interest of the Council in me. No one blinks twice at researchers going from town to town, except instead of gathering intel on historical documents, I was getting information about the most powerful witching families.
I meet Vance’s glare with one of my own. I know who I am and it’s not a good witch.
Tilda clears her throat and yanks my attention from the unicorn shifter. She takes off her glasses and uses the hem of her hoodie to clean them, the whole time watching me with concern. I shrug a shoulder and give my head a small shake. Smart woman that she is, she understands the message, slips her glasses back on, and continues with her briefing, answering the rest of Birdie’s and Eli’s questions.
I can feel Vance still staring at me, but I ignore it.
I don’t need him to tell me what I already know—I have to do whatever it takes to keep Tilda safe. This isn’t magic or a curse or a rogue spell drawing me to her. It’s love, and that’s so much worse.
But I don’t have time to ponder that because the train is slowing down.
We’ve arrived in Salem.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Tilda . . .
The Marie Laveau Museum is making me dizzy as I stand in the middle of the main gallery and look up ten stories to the glass ceiling. There aren’t stairs in here. Instead, it’s one very long, very smooth ramp that circles the main lobby, going higher and higher on its way up to the galleries on the other ten floors. On any other day, I’d love to lose myself in exploring all of the art, but tonight is all about stealing art, not appreciating it.
Straight ahead is the hall leading to the gallery with The Liber Umbrarum. The line for entry goes out all the way to the coat check and is filled with witches from the most connected families in Witchingdom dressed in their absolute best for the gala, who are being let into the room in pairs. Acting for all the world as if we couldn’t care less about the book, Gil and I go from one work of art to another, admiring each for a few minutes and smiling at all of the witches who spot us and immediately start texting on their phones. If pics of us will distract them from the real action, then it’s a perfect solution. And we are something to see—Gil is in a black tux that makes him look like James Bond, the hot Daniel Craig version, and I’m in my emerald-green sparkly dress that has just enough coverage to make me feel fully clothed but is revealing enough to have everyone’s eyes glued to my boobs. It’s definitely not my usual style, but it works perfectly for the purpose of being a glamazon distraction so Birdie and Eli can do their thing.