Alatar bet them to the house, his beaten-up sedan parked in the drive, forcing Raiden to park on the road out front. The warlock stood out on the sidewalk, gape mouthed at the boarded-up windows and chaos of the overgrown front yard.
“What happened here?” He asked them when they joined him. “Remodelling the extreme way?”
“Vampires,” Raiden replied.
He gripped one of the ply-boards covering the windows, tearing it free and wincing as the motion pulled along his wounded side. He gripped the window seal, jumping up and vaulting into the room. He crunched over the broken glass to the hallway and unlocked the front door from inside to let the other two inside.
“I am glad you got away alright,” Alatar said.
“We are glad that you did,” Tara replied, taking his hand with a smile that made Raiden do a double take at the couple
“It was no problems, they didn’t even know I was there,” Alatar shrugged. “So, where is the grimoire? I have something else that might help us find Lia again, but we will start with that.”
“What else?” Raiden demanded.
Alatar produced a white feather. “Vola! The winged man shed it. I grabbed it, thinking it might be useful for a trace.”
“Clever,” Tara purred with approval. “A very sly move, A.”
“She is right,” Raiden clasped the warlock’s shoulder. “That was clever thinking. The grimoire is in here.” He took them into Lia’s bedroom and the walk-in-robe before releasing the hidden door so that the door opened into the turret stairwell.
“Wow,” Alatar said as they looked up the stairs. “There is some powerful magic in this house, centered around here, a protection spell that is slowly shrinking in on itself, like it hasn’t been renewed for some time and is running out of energy.”
“What is it protecting?” Tara wondered.
“Probably what is at the top of these stairs?” Alatar suggested a moment before stepping out into the room. “That is how these things normally work. You cast it from the most important point you need to protect, so that as the spell retracts, that point stays protected for the longest.”
“Lia’s grandmother died about a year ago,” Raiden commented.
“Yeah, that would account for it, if the spell caster died and no one took over the spell. Wow,” he said again staring around wide eyed. “This is… Other level. This room is old… Very old. There is a big spell on this space. We are in the house, but we are not in the house at the same time.
“I have never seen spell casting like it. And these relics, these books,” he examined the shelf next to him. “Man, my coven would give their first-born children for just one of these books.”
“No way,” Tara was repulsed.
“Not really,” he assured her. “Poor joke.”
“Is that a… baby?” Tara peered into a jar. “What kind of Other? Who keeps a baby in a jar?” She was appalled. “That is just savage.”
“Very old,” Alatar told her, comfortingly, putting his arm around her waist. “Look at the seal on that jar. Really old.”
“The grimoire is here,” Raiden pointed to the table under the stain glass window, impatiently. “Stop making moves on Tara, and focus Alatar.”
“Yeah, okay,” Alatar was unabashed. He looked around him. “I could probably spend the rest of my life in here, and not get through half of what’s on these shelves anyway. Maybe after all this is done, Lia will let me have more of a poke around.”
He joined Raiden at the table, looking at the stained-glass window with interest, before turning his attention to the book. “Oh, f-k,” he murmured, his hands hovering over the cover without touching. “This isn’t a grimoire, Raiden,” he whispered. “It’s our bible. The original copy of it, too, if I am not mistaken. We thought it destroyed thousands of years ago. Bit of a gross side note, but if I am right, and this is the original, the cover is skin. People skin.”
“No way,” Tara made a noise in the back of her throat.
“Yes way, this time,” he replied reverently. He turned the cover gingerly.
“Wow,” he murmured upon seeing the illustration of the two angels. “I have seen replicas of this picture. I think this would be the original. I am not an expert, of course. But…”
He turned to the family tree. “This is a family tree, and the name at the top is Evelyn and Jiath, which would have been her human lover. I can just imagine the upset that would result in the coven if they were to see this book,” he said. “Most don’t believe the stories from the old religion. I must admit, I have been one of the dubious… But after seeing that winged man, and now this book…” He heaved a heavy sigh.
“Anyway,” he took his phone out of his pocket and took a photo of the front page, the angel picture, and then the cover. “I would love to take the book to my coven, but I doubt I could remove it. The spells on it would prevent me doing so. So, I will take a few photos and send them around instead.
“This family tree, in particular… It is a whole lost branch of witches and warlocks. This says that there was a daughter born, who went on to marry, and have children… I wondered what happened here,” he pointed to where the line began to dwindle down to one branch. “After a few generations, they started dying young, until there was just one line… Oh, shit.”
“Oh, shit?” Raiden leaned over his shoulder.
“The last name is Cecelia Alexis. That would be…?” He looked at Raiden.
Raiden nodded grimly. “That would be Lia.”