He lets out a sigh of relief. “Good. I’d hate to think this sort of bullshit could shake your confidence in me. I just can’t even believe it, you know?”
Standing up, I take a seat on his lap and wrap my arms around his neck. “I’m not a rumor girl. This doesn’t shake my confidence in you. Not even a little bit. I know you, Wade Hoffman. But I wish you would open up to me more. We need to get on the same page again. So, come on, let’s go see if anything like this has happened before. If magic is involved, we should be able to find something.”
“I sure as hell hope so. This is not how I planned to spend my one and only year here,” he says, frowning.
“Don’t say that. We’ll get that sorted out, too. But one thing at a time,” I mutter, kissing the crease where his eye meets his cheekbone. “All right, let’s do it.” I stand up and reach out, offering my hand.
Together, we walk to the school’s library. The space looks more like a place of worship than a place to learn and read things. Especially with its high ceilings and stained-glass windows that span the entire height of the room. However, the ambiance is unlike anything else.
In all honesty, I’ve only been in this library a handful of times and never to do research like this, so I feel a little out of sorts. All of my personal research last year was done at the local library in town—and in a dark corner of it, too.
“Where do we start?” Wade says, his wide eyes mimicking my own.
I shrug and point to the man behind the desk. “Ask the librarian?”
“All right, then, let’s do it.” He nods.
Walking forward, Wade makes his way to the large, round oak desk in the center of the main aisle. It’s clear it’s been set intentionally because it commands the space and draws you straight to it. The artistry in the wood carvings on the front is similar to the work in the admissions office, but instead of someone short and stout, a broad-shouldered man with dark hair and inquisitive eyes scrolls through an old-fashioned-looking library catalogue. On the desk, the nameplate reads: David Chen.
“Excuse me,” Wade says, clearing his throat.
David glances up and grins. “Ah, Mr. Hoffman. It’s a pleasure to meet you in person.” His voice has a tinge of echo to it, and I turn to Wade, raising an eyebrow in surprise.
“I—uh, thanks?” Wade says, shooting me a sideways glance. “Say, I was wondering if you happen to have any information on, uh…” he pinches his lips tight for a moment. “Actually, you know what? Do you have a place to view any old magical news articles from thirty years ago or so?”
“What you’re seeking is likely all online now, but I can point you to the public computer section,” David says with a knowing smirk.
Wade again shifts his gaze to me, and I shrug sheepishly.
“No need, I can see it from here,” Wade says, sliding his hand into mine and pulling us both to the right of the expansive room.
“See, told you. Online,” he chuckles when we’re out of earshot of the librarian.
“Okay, so you win this round,” I say, taking a seat at one of the computers and glancing over my shoulder at the librarian. “Can I ask you something? Did the librarian’s voice seem odd to you?”
“Yeah, kinda almost robotic,” Wade says, nodding as he fiddles with the mouse to wake the sleeping computer.
“Right? You don’t think that’s a thing, do you?” I say, unable to stop myself from eyeing the desk.
Wade shrugs. “I don’t see why not. I mean, you’re a necromancer, for crying out loud. You think an AI is as crazy as it gets?”
“Point taken,” I say, turning back around and facing the computer. “So, what’s the game plan?”
“Well,” Wade begins, letting his fingers fly across the keyboard, “the only thing I have to go on is what I heard in Mistwood. So, I guess we start by looking to see if there were any other grave robbings back in the late eighties or early nineties.”
I groan. “This is gonna be like looking for a needle in a haystack.”
Wade nods, but bends in. “Except…I found something.”
My mouth drops open and I lean in, too. “You’re kidding?”
“No, I’m just good with internet searches.” He twists around and beams at me. “Get this. It says there were two graves desecrated, but that’s not all. There were some weird vandalizations as well.”
“Weird how?”
Wade leans in, reading a bit further.
“Scorched markings over the tops of some of the other freshly dug graves—days after the initial robbings. It was unique enough that it drew attention and witnesses saw someone with magical abilities at the scene,” he finally says.
“Okay, that’s strange and all, but I don’t know—” I begin, but stop when Wade’s jaw drops open and the color drains from his cheeks. “What is it?”
Shifting his gaze from the computer gaze to me, Wade leans back and presses his fingertips to his lips. His eyelashes flutter furiously as he processes whatever he just read.
“What is it?” I press.
“They had a suspect,” he whispers.
“That’s good. It means we can track down—”
Wade shakes his head. “It was my dad.”
Chapter 6
All That Follows
If anyone in school finds out about Wade’s dad being the prime suspect in what happened thirty years ago, they’ll have him tried and convicted before anyone can change their minds.
With both his dad and grandpa dead, there’s no one in the family he can turn to in order to make sense out of this mess. And no one else the authorities can point fingers to, at least not as easily.
As I walk down the hallway to Grimoire Protection, my mind is too busy grappling with Wade’s new dilemma to pay attention to my surroundings. I
