Chapter 2

Ruby

At the kitchen table, my dinner sits untouched as I lazily move the food around on my plate. Today was… awful.

My job was already a nightmare, working as an administrative assistant to someone who could easily be mistaken for Lucifer’s right-hand man. However, losing it out of the blue just because his college friend’s daughter showed up, with her perky twenty-one-year-old boobs and long blonde hair...

That shit stings.

“Why me, Shadow?” I whisper, tears springing to my eyes as she leaps onto the table and tilts her head. Even the damn cat feels sorry for me.

It’s pitiful.

At thirty-two, I have nothing… not really. I haven’t had a boyfriend in years, and my work schedule has made it impossible to keep up with myself. I tug on one of my red curls and watch it pop back up into its usual chaotic coil. The mousse I put in this morning is long gone from the number of times I pushed my fingers through it today, so everything is extra frizzy.

A walking pom-pom.

Go, team.

It’s not like I hate my body. I don’t stand an inch over five-foot-three, and I have soft rolls instead of tight abs, but that doesn’t bother me. Physical appearances rank pretty low on my list of priorities, because, despite my current pity party, I know what I have to offer… even if I don’t have someone to share it with at the moment.

The rest of my life, on the other hand, could use adjusting. New job, new adventure… Lord knows I could use some excitement. The house was a good start, but even now, what am I doing?

Eating a giant spoon of peanut butter for dinner and wearing a pair of sushi pajamas while the sun is still out. All alone.

A furry head butts against my cheek with a quiet mrow, and I glance up with a small, rueful smile. Okay, maybe not all alone. Her fur is soft between my fingers as I pet her, nodding and giving a very unladylike sniffle. “Yeah, you’re right. I need to stop moping. There’s no point in stressing over things I have no control over, and I can’t get my job back now. I don’t even want it back, so why am I blubbering about it?”

My eyes shift, staring at the book on the table. Despite tearing the attic apart, as well as searching every piece of furniture in the house, I haven’t been able to find the key—or any explanation to what the book is or why Granny had it. There’s a nagging fear in the back of my mind that I threw the key away with the trash, but I can’t explain why it bothers me so much.

Why I have such a need to open it and read… to understand.

I shovel the giant spoon into my mouth, licking it clean before stretching to grab the book.

The pensive silence is broken by a crash that almost makes me jump straight out of my skin. Once I verify I am not, in fact, a walking skeleton, I turn to find Shadow on the fireplace mantle, her attention fixed on the shattered vase on the ground. “ Sugar ! Pesky cat!” I tiptoe over, gingerly stepping past the splintered pieces to grab the broom and dustpan from the closet.

Shadow paces on the mantle, pleased as a pickle with the mess she’s made. As I sweep up the broken ceramic shards, a shiny glint catches my eye. Shocked, I reach for the tiny key buried in the dust and blow it off, studying it before my eyes meet Shadow’s. She sits there on her butt, tail flickering back and forth with what I swear is a smug expression on her face.

“No way,” I mutter under my breath as I return to the table and drag the book in front of me. Shadow bounces up beside me, tail still swooshing as I push the key into the tiny padlock and hear the quiet click. My eyes meet hers, finding another of those proud grins in place, before I turn my attention to the book and slide the lock off its small metal hook.

The cover arches open with a melancholic creak, like the material is mourning the years of stillness, and a wave of nostalgia washes over me as the musty smell of old books floods my nose. Shoved inside is a note, and my eyes get wider with each word I read.

Ruby, if you’ve found this, it means that I’m gone and everything that was mine is now yours. Use it carefully and know that I’d give anything to be there with you.

I pull it out, finding a small, bittersweet smile on my face at the sight of her dramatic, loopy handwriting. Every single thing she did was infused with her one-of-a-kind, sometimes wacky, character. As I set the note aside, I can’t resist the urge to run my fingertips over the surface of the book’s first page. The paper has a unique texture—a thicker, softer material that seems like it would stand through the test of time.

How old is this thing?

My eyes dance across the hand-written words as I flip the page.

At the top, To Cure Insomnia is penned in a harsh script that doesn’t belong to Granny. I scan the instructions, stumbling upon unfamiliar words in a foreign language, but it’s one I don’t recognize.

“Oil of primrose? Toad boils? Is this a joke?” I mutter, still reading. “Chamomile… well, at least that’s normal…”

A phrase catches my eye, and I stop with my finger over the line. “Moonstone dust?” I jump up so fast, Shadow startles and hisses at me, then ducks her head when I give her an admonishing glance. “I know I’ve seen that before.” My feet wear a path in the carpet, pacing until the memory clicks into place.

I dart through the house, climbing into the attic and to a stack of boxes I’d shoved into the corner. Glass jars clink as I undo the flaps, and I pull them out one by one until I find what I’m looking for. It’s a tiny container with a cork stopper, a powder that looks like ash inside, and a handwritten label on the side. “Moonstone dust!” I shout triumphantly, twisting and turning the vial in my hand and watching it sparkle in the light streaming through the window.

The more containers I pull out, the more my mind spins, my confusion growing as I read the labels. Some of this stuff is odd, others are… downright fantasy.

Lacewing fly wings… owl feathers… fleezle whiskers? What the heck is a fleezle?

Another small vial is filled with a pinch of something that sparkles like an iridescent purple glitter, labeled as unicorn dander.

Who knew unicorns even had dander?

Once the box is emptied and the attic is filled with scattered contents, it hits me how completely overwhelmed I am by everything in front of me. Numb, I repack the box, listening to the quiet jingles that sound like wind chimes as I place the containers inside and fold the flaps shut.

“What does this mean, Shadow?” I ask in a hushed whisper as the cat paces around me, still purring like a maniac.

Three days later, I sit in the armchair beside the fireplace, fingers steepled and drumming against my lips. The book stares back at me from across the room, judging me very Judily as I waffle with indecision.

Once I started reading, I found myself immersed in its pages for the next two days, engrossed in the spells and enchantments, marking the ones I wanted to revisit.

But that’s the issue.

Am I seriously considering jumping into this delusion? Because that’s what it is… that’s what it has to be.

It’s the only explanation.

My granny, as much as I adored her, had a tendency to be a little bit crazy. Eccentric to the nth degree. It’s possible she left the book as a practical joke… I certainly wouldn’t put that past her and her wicked sense of humor.

For what must be the hundredth time today, I stand and walk over, flipping to a page I have flagged. A Spell For Longer Fingernails is innocent enough… right? It has basic ingredients that I have on hand, and I’ve stared at the recipe for hours, trying to figure out what could go wrong. I’ve bitten my nails for years, so it’s something that would be simple to test.

“No time like the present, huh, Shadow?” A surge of determination hits me as I make up my mind to do this before I second guess myself.

Again.

My finger follows the words on the page, and I mutter to myself as I put together the ingredients in a metal pot. “On low heat, start with a cup of water… add a pinch of salt… easy…” Steam rolls from the liquid as I stir with one hand. “Steep three leaves from an oak tree… convenient she had one outside. Can’t be a coincidence, huh, Shadow?” She rumbles a quiet purr as I continue stirring.

“Two wings from a lacewing fly… thank you, Granny…” The cork pops as I pull it loose, using a pair of long, skinny tweezers to remove the translucent, shimmery wings. A burst of purple smoke erupts into the air as they flutter into the solution, leaving me wide-eyed. “Okay, that doesn’t… necessarily… mean anything…” I mutter, reading the final few instructions.

The last ingredient, something called Oil of Maia, is in a small, amber-colored glass bottle with a screw-on stopper. Four drops plop into the shimmering surface with a hiss. “Oh!” I gasp as the smoke changes from a faint purple to a bright, sparkling orange, and then disappears altogether.

I lean over the pan, glancing down at the unsuspecting liquid that looks like… well. It looks like water. Disappointment rings through my body before I can rein it in, but I shake my head and read the last few lines on the page out loud. “Wait for the potion to cool and dip fingernails inside. Let soak for two minutes, then wash away any traces remaining on skin.”

Shadow mews as I look at her and shrug. “Here goes nothing.”

My back arches as I stretch with a satisfying release of tension, and Shadow shifts beside me. “God, I’ve forgotten how amazing it is to sleep in. Too bad we can’t get used to this, huh, kitty?” My palms glide up my face and my fingers push through my hair.

“Ow!” I yelp at the scratch against my scalp, yanking my hands away from my head. My eyes widen in a rush at the sight of my long, healthy fingernails. “Oh, holy shit!” I shout, then slap my hand over my mouth. “Sorry, Granny.”

She hated cursing—which, now that I’m looking at it from the perspective that she owned an entire book of curses, seems sort of ironic. Ever since I was old enough to figure out how to curse properly, I’ve monitored what I said around her.

The house still carries the weight of her presence, so it feels like the same rules are expected to be followed.

I pull my hand up in front of my eyes again and poke at the fingernails that definitely weren’t there yesterday. “It’s… real?” My mind spins as I think about the hundreds of spells that I’ve found in that book and the difference they could make in my life.

“Is this selfish, Shadow?” I ask, and she purrs as I dig my now-long nails through her thick fur. “Is it cheating?” She arches into my touch, and I glance over at her like I’m expecting a response.

At this point, I’m not sure it would even surprise me.