Chapter 2

2

R oni smiled, hopping out of the way as a small group of ghouls, ghosts, and witches streaked down the sidewalk with wide grins and baskets of candy. She smoothed down her skirt and continued walking, her elegant and impractical heels clicking along the sidewalk.

She waved and smiled as she passed familiar faces and marveled at how much her life had changed—how much she'd changed—since she'd come to live in the small Massachusetts town. In fact, she barely recognized herself these days.

Of course, her fiancé had played a part in her newfound confidence, as had Olivia. They'd believed in her when she hadn't had the guts to believe in herself. Sure, they'd introduced her to a world filled with monsters, ghosts, and soul-sucking demons, but she'd also been lucky enough to experience a world filled with magic and wonder.

She wouldn't trade that for anything.

She was now part of the community; as curator of the Mercy Museum of Witchcraft, she was well known by most of the residents, but it was so much more than that. She had a family.They may not have been blood, but Olivia and Theo and their circle of friends meant more to her than anything.

"Roni!" a familiar voice called out to her.

She looked up and saw Ellen Beaumont leaning against the doorjamb of her secondhand bookstore, wearing a warty witch's nose and a conical hat and holding a plastic cauldron filled with candy bars.

"Good afternoon, Ellen."

"You look happy," Ellen remarked, holding out the cauldron for Roni to take a peanut butter cup.

"Just feeling grateful, I guess." Roni unwrapped the candy and popped the sweet treat in her mouth, glancing at all the children running and laughing.

"There's nowhere quite like Mercy, is there?" Ellenremarked fondly.

Roni laughed. "You got that right."

"I'm glad I saw you." Ellen stepped back into the shop and beckoned for Roni to enter. "I have something for you."

"You do?" Roni followed curiouslyas she passed by deep, glossy midnight-blue bookcases framed with twinkling white fairy lights and holding everything from travel guides to the latest bestsellers and tarot cards to bell jars.

Ellen nodded as she placed the cauldron down on a nearby table and headed toward the back of the shop. "Did you hear Marta Varga passed away last month?"

"I did," Roni muttered.

"Bless her." Ellen sighed loudly. "No family left. She was the last one. Still, we gave her a helluva send-off."

"That's nice," Roni replied. "I can't think of anything worse than coming to the end of your life and having no one to attend your funeral."

"Yes, well." Ellen disappeared into the back room and Roni could hear her rummaging about. When she spoke again, her voice was louder so Roni could still hear her. "We made sure that wasn't the case. Anyway, her will stipulated that her belongings were to be sold and the money donated to the local children's home."

"That was kind of her."

"I thought so." Ellen reappeared with a rather dusty, battered packing box and thumped it down onto the desk.

"What's this?" Roni peered into the box and found—perhaps unsurprisingly, considering she was in a secondhand bookstore—lots of old leatherbound books.

"It's from Marta's estate sale." She began pulling out handfuls of books and stacking them on the counter. "Now, where is it…" she muttered. "Ah, here we go."

Roni watched, her eyes rounding in interest as Ellen pulled out an old, large tome. It almost looked like a spell book, with thick leather bindings and metal hinges.

"I thought you might like this for the museum." She handed it over to Roni with a small dramatic oomph.

It was heavy, Roni would give her that. She settled it on the counter in front of her and traced the cover with inquisitive fingertips. There were several designs deeply carved into the leather cover, intricate trees and toadstools and goblins, but she struggled to read the title as it seemed to be in another language. Romanian, perhaps Croatian.

"I thought you might like it." Ellen nodded. "Marta's people came over from the old country. Croatia, I think it was," she mused thoughtfully. "Anyway, I can't see me being able to sell it, especially as it's not written in English. Besides, it's locked."

Roni shifted the book carefully onto its spine and saw that the pages were indeed bound together with a metal lock that looked rusted shut.

"Are you sure you don't want it?" she asked, looking up at the other woman.

Ellen watched her in amusement.

"Veronica Mason," she laughed, "I can tell by the look on your face and the grip of your fingers that you desperately want it for the museum."

Roni glanced down and noticed her fingers had turned white. Deliberately relaxing her grip, she chuckled lightly.

"Go on." Ellen nodded. "You send enough business my way. Take it."

"Thank you." Roni picked up the heavy book.

The bell above the door tinkled merrily and a band of misfits burst through the door amida rousing, squeaky chorus of trick or treat .Ellen cackled dramatically in delight and, pressing her wart-covered plastic nose back into place, hobbled over to the table to retrieve her cauldron.

Leaving the woman surrounded by princesses, pirates, and a Waldo, Roni slipped out of the shop and back onto the street, turning toward the museum. The temperaturehaddropped in the short time she'd been inside the store and the wind began to kick up, causing leaves of red and gold to swirl like little miniature dervishes.

The book felt warm against her chest and was incredibly heavy. By the time she rounded the corner and the museum came into view, her arms were beginning to ache and she was starting to wonder if the book was made of stone rather than leather and paper.

Roni trotted up the steps to the main entrance, backing into the door to push it open since she had her hands full. Taking one last glance up at the sky, she was surprised to find that what had been a clear, cloudless afternoon had suddenly turned overcast, with gray swirls streaking across the horizon.

She headed inside and gave a nod of greeting to her staff and the visitors as she headed up to her office. Closing the door behind her, she dropped the book onto her desk with a hum of relief, but for one crazy moment, she could have sworn she heard a clang like a lead weight, followed by the curious murmur of disgruntled voices.

Roni was so surprised that she turned sharply, but there was no one there. She was still alone. Kicking off her shoes, she sank into her chair and studied the book closely. Unable to decipher the language, she studied the painstakingly carved illustrations on the cover, the style of which indicated it might be a book of folklore.

Opening her desk drawer filled with all manner of curious items, she pulled out a can of oil that used to stop her office door from squeaking and a long, thin letter opener.

Roni carefully oiled the metal lock, not wanting the liquid to seep into the old pages, then took the letter opener and tried to pick the lock. She tried and tried but it wouldn't budge.

A sudden knock at her office door had her looking up and calling out in frustration, "Come in."

Mitch, her tall, dark-haired assistant, stuck his head around the door and smiled apologetically.

"Sorry to interrupt you, Roni, but the delivery came in for the piece on loan from London, and there seems to be a problem with the insurance paperwork."

Roni sighed and stood up. Smoothing her skirt, she slipped her feet back into her shoes.

"We had this problem last time." She frowned in annoyance and followed him from the room. "Did they use the same courier company again?"

She flicked the light off on her way out, plunging the office into darkness and silence as the door clicked closed.

A muted, eerie glow reminiscent of phosphorescence began to pulse in the darkness. It lit the room with a sickly green cast, throwing deep shadows that seemed to dance impatiently with dozens of strangely human-like forms across the walls.

Then the silence was punctuated with a small, harmless click that reverberated through the stillness. The book, which had been sitting sedately on the desk, flipped open, its pages fanning until they came to an abrupt stop. The light began to pulse brighter as a green mist began to rise from the parchment pages.