just this blatant disregard for the dangers of doing something when you don’t know what it’s all about that drives me crazy—witch or Warlock.”
Quinn sighed and continued. “You didn’t kill her. Whatever was in the book killed her. Remnants of something dark, something evil. It is a unique circumstance though. That could never have been envisaged, High Priestess. Not the cleverest thing you could all have done, though.”
Misty nodded wordlessly.
Quinn sat forward. “What happened then?”
She swallowed. “I told the others to go home, so at least they would be spared Valensia’s wrath then I called the Praetorium.” The Praetorium was the Witches’ organisation similar to the Warlocks’ Consortium, a high council that sat in consultation and managed their affairs.
He turned to face her. “I assume Valensia summonsed you to account. Tell me how that went.”
Misty’s face paled at the memory of her meeting with the Regina. “I did and it was a most unpleasant experience, I can assure you. Do you know Valensia at all?”
He nodded curtly.
Better than you can imagine.
“Well, then you know that she is extremely temperamental and rather sadistic. My meeting with her was extremely painful and I was lucky to get out of the Praetorium in one piece. As it is, she gave me this as a punishment.”
Misty lifted the swathe of long brown hair that covered the back of the neck. Quinn winced at the sight of the small ugly puckered scar on the back of her neck.
“She used her athame to cut me as a warning not to do something so stupid again.” Misty dropped her hair. “I can assure you after the pain I experienced getting this, I won’t.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Quinn said softly. “She can be very—mercurial—in her moods and not someone to get on the wrong side of.” He hesitated. “I imagine she wanted the Book of Shadows herself?”
Misty nodded. “Yes. I had to hand it over when I went to see her. It’s in her chambers, I imagine. She’s keeping a close eye on it.”
Quinn mouth twitched at that news.
Not what I wanted to hear. I’d rather you still had the damn thing.
“Tell me about the book,” he said quietly. “Describe it in as much detail as you can.”
“It was a book about A5 size. It looked like leather, very old and faded. There were some old stains on the front cover, possibly water, I don’t know. The writing was old, done in some sort of red ink, dragon’s ink, I think, and the handwriting was very flowing. I thought it was a woman’s Book of Shadows.” Misty frowned. “There was a strange symbol on the very first page.”
Quinn gazed at her intently. “Could you draw this symbol?” he asked, his eyes watchful. Misty nodded. He rummaged around inside his leather jacket, pulling out a pen and a small spiral bound notebook. “Draw it,” he demanded.
She placed the book on the table as she sketched. He watched as she drew a wheel with eight segments, which represented the eight sabbats of the witches’ year, along with two symbols, looking like an M and a sideways V together, in curly writing. He frowned as he looked over her shoulder, at the slightly blurry figures on the piece of paper.
I should have brought my damn glasses with me.
“They look like runes. I know the Year of the Wheel symbol but I’m not sure about the single marks. Do you have any idea what they are or what they mean?”
Misty shook her head. “All I know is this was drawn on the inside of the book. I have no idea what the two separate initials mean.”
Quinn looked at her sharply. “You feel they may be initials? Perhaps belonging to the witch who created and owned this book?”
Misty shrugged. “I suppose they could be. I don’t have a clue who could it be; the seventeenth century is out of my comfort zone.”
Quinn frowned. “How do you know the book was created in the seventeenth century? It could have been anyone’s.”
Misty looked at him, her gaze clear. “I
Quinn sighed and continued. “You didn’t kill her. Whatever was in the book killed her. Remnants of something dark, something evil. It is a unique circumstance though. That could never have been envisaged, High Priestess. Not the cleverest thing you could all have done, though.”
Misty nodded wordlessly.
Quinn sat forward. “What happened then?”
She swallowed. “I told the others to go home, so at least they would be spared Valensia’s wrath then I called the Praetorium.” The Praetorium was the Witches’ organisation similar to the Warlocks’ Consortium, a high council that sat in consultation and managed their affairs.
He turned to face her. “I assume Valensia summonsed you to account. Tell me how that went.”
Misty’s face paled at the memory of her meeting with the Regina. “I did and it was a most unpleasant experience, I can assure you. Do you know Valensia at all?”
He nodded curtly.
Better than you can imagine.
“Well, then you know that she is extremely temperamental and rather sadistic. My meeting with her was extremely painful and I was lucky to get out of the Praetorium in one piece. As it is, she gave me this as a punishment.”
Misty lifted the swathe of long brown hair that covered the back of the neck. Quinn winced at the sight of the small ugly puckered scar on the back of her neck.
“She used her athame to cut me as a warning not to do something so stupid again.” Misty dropped her hair. “I can assure you after the pain I experienced getting this, I won’t.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Quinn said softly. “She can be very—mercurial—in her moods and not someone to get on the wrong side of.” He hesitated. “I imagine she wanted the Book of Shadows herself?”
Misty nodded. “Yes. I had to hand it over when I went to see her. It’s in her chambers, I imagine. She’s keeping a close eye on it.”
Quinn mouth twitched at that news.
Not what I wanted to hear. I’d rather you still had the damn thing.
“Tell me about the book,” he said quietly. “Describe it in as much detail as you can.”
“It was a book about A5 size. It looked like leather, very old and faded. There were some old stains on the front cover, possibly water, I don’t know. The writing was old, done in some sort of red ink, dragon’s ink, I think, and the handwriting was very flowing. I thought it was a woman’s Book of Shadows.” Misty frowned. “There was a strange symbol on the very first page.”
Quinn gazed at her intently. “Could you draw this symbol?” he asked, his eyes watchful. Misty nodded. He rummaged around inside his leather jacket, pulling out a pen and a small spiral bound notebook. “Draw it,” he demanded.
She placed the book on the table as she sketched. He watched as she drew a wheel with eight segments, which represented the eight sabbats of the witches’ year, along with two symbols, looking like an M and a sideways V together, in curly writing. He frowned as he looked over her shoulder, at the slightly blurry figures on the piece of paper.
I should have brought my damn glasses with me.
“They look like runes. I know the Year of the Wheel symbol but I’m not sure about the single marks. Do you have any idea what they are or what they mean?”
Misty shook her head. “All I know is this was drawn on the inside of the book. I have no idea what the two separate initials mean.”
Quinn looked at her sharply. “You feel they may be initials? Perhaps belonging to the witch who created and owned this book?”
Misty shrugged. “I suppose they could be. I don’t have a clue who could it be; the seventeenth century is out of my comfort zone.”
Quinn frowned. “How do you know the book was created in the seventeenth century? It could have been anyone’s.”
Misty looked at him, her gaze clear. “I
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