Her pants were still decent. With a last look at her swollen eyes, she squared her shoulders and told the mirror. “No crybabies allowed. Get busy findin’ a way to hold somethin’ over Cavan before he shows up.”
Fenella had no one else to come for her but Casidhe.
It might be futile, but Casidhe would continue trying Fenella’s phone while she waited to learn if Cavan had her friend. If not, then ... Casidhe would be on her own to outmaneuver Cavan and hunt Fenella.
When she returned to the cushion, she glanced at the street outside the large front window while remaining out of sight. She and Fenella had never wanted blinds to impede their view of the village activity.
Maybe that had been shortsighted.
She’d feel less vulnerable with closed blinds she could peek through.
Nothing stirred out there, as it should be until the bakery across the street opened up.
Casidhe settled back on the cushion. She lifted the book Cavan had left and considered her next move.
Hunt for the grimoire?
To do that, she’d need a starting point.
If, or when, she had to leave here, what books would she take?
Abusing her knees again, she moved deep into the research centre until she could stand and use the tiny light where the glow would not be seen from the front. She searched for reference books, which might give her some idea of where to begin searching for that stupid book of majik. Since she’d never even heard of Immortuos Grimoire before yesterday, she turned to material from before Herrick’s birth, but that selection would be small.
An hour of hunting yielded two possible books, both heavy tomes. She found a cloth tote to carry them in along with Cavan’s book if she had to make a run for it.
Why would she run? She had no idea, but neither had that been a consideration last night when she sat at the table to eat her stew.
Her new mantra was be prepared to flee at any moment.
Her stomach grumbled.
She’d kill to eat a full meal and sleep for ten hours.
Good fantasy. Not happening.
Weary to her bones, she wiggled around on the cushion getting comfortable. The desk shielded view of her presence from anyone passing by outside where daylight continued to brighten the village. She opened the packages of crackers, careful to put the trash in the can. This position on the floor also allowed her to keep an eye on anyone walking up to the door next to the window.
With Cavan’s heavy book on her lap, she cleaned her hands and placed the rag at her side on the floor. She used two fingers, barely skimming the rich-brown front cover. Symbols rose to meet her fingers again, changing shape as they did to form words she could understand.
Before Ainvar.
A dark druid book about a time before Ainvar. Who could Ainvar be?
Closing her eyes, she placed all ten fingers on the book.
The tome hummed with energy.
She wished to look at the page Cavan had told her he wanted translated this morning, but he’d warned her to not review the page before he arrived or he would know.
Blinking, she stared at the old tome. A sentient book?
Should she open to that page and read?
How much worse could it be if he did figure out she'd read the words? On second thought, she shouldn’t toss a question like that to the universe.
Minutes passed so slowly. She tapped her fingers on the floor. The clock hand touched nine and kept moving, not showing the least concern for Fenella’s failure to arrive.
A tap on the door surprised Casidhe, but she didn’t jump or move. Mrs. Clark had a turnover for Fenella. Casidhe held her breath until the baker crossed the street to her shop. The woman who ran the yarn shop stopped by, knocked, looked confused, then moved on.
Where was Cavan? She’d expected him to appear by now.
What if he never showed at all?
What would that mean?
What if he did show and didn’t have Fenella, but Fenella didn’t show? Would that prove he had not captured her?
Casidhe sat there in a dilemma, but kept her hand and eyes away from the passage Cavan had warned her against. If he had Fenella, all bets were off. She’d read anything she wanted.
Life began moving around outside. Some passing by glanced at the shop with a curious look since Fenella could be counted on to be here early.
Casidhe stayed in the shadows, ignoring anyone except Cavan, if he ever showed up. She’d tried Fenella’s phone every fifteen minutes, unable to give up on the only link she had to her.
Each failed connection drove another spike of hurt through her.
Had she failed Fenella?
When Casidhe had five minutes left until the shop should officially open, she began sweating.
Would Cavan be here by ten? She kept an eye on the small clock on Fenella’s desk, replaying Cavan’s words. She couldn’t recall him committing to a specific time, only saying he expected her to be here this morning.
She would have pinned him down, but she expected today to start like any other with Fenella walking in laughing about her new goats. Everything had changed.
Ten o’clock arrived.
Her anxiety spiked. She had no idea what to do about finding Fenella. Or Cavan.
If he had her friend, wouldn’t he want to show up and use Fenella to force Casidhe to do what he demanded?
A logical expectation unless ...
She looked at the book Cavan had left, the whole reason she had to be here now.
Had he made a big deal about her translating a passage in this book just to insure she would be nowhere around Fenella to protect her?
Chapter 7
Daegan twisted his neck and stretched his arms within the cloaked area where he stood. He stopped in