“Maybe some of us need to stop for a change of clothes first,” Andreas amended.
“I guess the club’s a fitting place for the day to end,” Russell said. “Considering what lies ahead.”
Lilith rolled her eyes, while Marcus barked a short laugh.
“What’s so funny? Did I miss something? Why is it fitting?” Ryan frowned, watching the others head for the door.
“He’s referring to the club’s name,” Ari said.
“Dintero? Why? What’s it mean?”
Andreas’s eyes met Ari’s, and they grinned at one another. He grabbed her hand.
Russell was the one who finally answered. “It means Destiny.”
Epilogue
Bella head-butted her mistress's chin until Ari opened one eye to meet Bella's green-eyed stare. The damn cat was scowling. Ari wondered if bringing home a familiar had been a mistake.
“Okay, I’m getting up,” Ari grumbled. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, slipping on the Birkis Claris had given her for her last birthday. After she splashed cold water on her face and threw on shirt and jeans, she turned on the coffee pot.
It had been two days since the confrontation with Shale—or Chzebar. Her body was sluggish, a letdown from the tension of the last four weeks. Bella had woken her at dawn by patting her face with gentle paws, but Ari had managed to stave her off for an added hour of sleep. She had no appointments today, no known killers stalking the city, and her boyfriend wouldn’t be up for hours.
When Bella was fed and Ari was drinking her first cup of coffee, she half-heartedly considered a morning run. The doorbell chimed, and Ari’s gaze swiveled to Bella. Was this why Bella had gotten her up? Was she a genuine familiar?
Adrenaline dispelled Ari’s lethargy. It wasn’t quite 7:00. Who would be here, unannounced, at this time of day?
She grabbed her derringer and approached the door. A look through the peephole fed her suspicions. She saw no one. Seriously on alert, she kept the security chain in place, stayed off to one side, and eased the door open a fraction.
Now she saw her visitor. An elderly, four-foot-tall wood nymph. He looked vaguely familiar.
“Arianna Calin?” he asked, squinting at her through the crack.
“Who’s asking?”
“I’m Yana’s father.”
“Mr. Montrey! Ah, just a moment. I’ll let you right in,” she said as she grabbed clothes off the couch, stuffed them and her derringer under the bed, and raced back to fumble with the chain. “I’m so sorry.” She swung the door open. “Please, come in.”
Ari was embarrassed that she’d kept him waiting and even more so that she hadn’t recognized him. His daughter had been her mentor, her friend, and the former Guardian in Riverdale. She hadn’t seen him since Yana’s murder last fall.
“It is I who should apologize for appearing so early and without warning,” he said. “But I do not own a phone to call ahead, and I felt some urgency in the matter.”
“No problem. It’s fine. Please, tell me how I can help you. Is your family well?”
“Yes, they are fine. This is about what I can do for you.” He smiled, his wrinkled face crinkling even more and reminding her of Yana. He stepped inside, carrying a brown paper parcel.
Ari offered him coffee, which he declined. Containing her curiosity, Ari waited while he took a seat on the couch, proper and upright, the brown package resting on his knees. She settled opposite him in her favorite red chair and waited.
He regarded her with the serenity of age. “Yana kept a large trunk in her bedroom. We brought it home shortly after the burial and put it away in the attic. It was too soon to look at her belongings. Last night my granddaughter, Kyra, opened it and found something unusual inside. When she brought it to me, I knew it belonged to you.”
“To me? What made you think it belonged to me?”
“I cannot tell you, for I do not know the answer. There was no writing, no instruction. At the risk of sounding a bit fey, I would say it led me to you.” He held out the package. “Open it. See for yourself.”
On closer inspection, the package seemed pretty ordinary, a brown paper bag wrapped around a rectangular object. A box, maybe. She reached out to take it, but as soon as her fingers touched the paper, she felt a warmth enter her hands. Her witch magic started a pleasurable hum, and she trembled as she reached into the bag.
Ari’s heart stopped or at least skipped a beat. The world receded around her, and all she saw was the ancient red leather book. As she stared at the worn surface, the title slowly began to write across the cover in black script, but she already knew what it was. The Calin family Book of Shadows had come home.
Unable to speak, Ari cradled the ancient tome against her chest, Great-Gran’s voice echoed in her head. “Do not worry about the Book, Arianna. Your mother will have kept it safe. And, when you are ready, it will find its way home.”
Ari hadn’t dared to trust her words, but they had come true. Mr. Montrey wasn’t so far off when he said it led him here. The Book of Shadows had a power all its own, the power of the Calin witches. Ari’s mother must have had a premonition of her death. She’d left the Book in Yana’s safekeeping, until Ari earned the right to have it. Ari now realized that she’d had to trust her own powers before she was worthy of the Book.
She looked at the patiently waiting elder wood nymph with unashamed tears. “You cannot know what this means to me. You’ve given me back my family.”
“I am pleased to have been of assistance,” the old man said. “As I am gratified to see you once again.” He rose from the couch and bent his head in a mark of respect, which she returned. “I must go. At my age I do not like to be away from the forest for long. Good morrow, my daughter’s friend.”
After he had gone, Ari curled on the sofa, feet tucked under her, still clutching the Book. Bella snuggled close to her side, as if she understood and wanted to share in the importance of the moment. Tears streamed unchecked down Ari’s face.
The ancient journal rested, heavy on her lap, as she opened to the first ivory page, releasing a blue shimmer of magic. Ari took a deep breath, savoring the anticipation another moment.
She dropped her eyes and began to read the handwritten script.
