I sigh, wanting to get started and frustrated to be dealing with this. “You act like I’m going to introduce them to evil spells or make them bad witches with warts and black hats, when all I want is the same thing as you—for them to get their power back.” Careful to shield my mind so he can’t hear the unspoken part, the real truth behind this visit—that I spent most of yesterday at work struggling to make sense of the book to no avail—that I need help if I’ve any hope of convincing Roman to hand over the antidote. Knowing it’s better unsaid. Damen would so not approve.

“There are better ways of doing this,” he says, voice patient but firm. “I have their lessons mapped out, and if you’ll just give it the time to—”

“How much time? Weeks, months, a year?” I shake my head. “Maybe we can’t afford to waste that kind of time, did you ever think of that!”

“We?” His brows merge as his gaze studies mine, a hint of understanding forming in his eyes.

“We, them, whatever.” I shrug, knowing I better move on. “Let me just show them the book and see if it’s even the real deal. I mean, we don’t even know if it really works, maybe my reaction was—well, maybe that was just me. Come on, Damen, please? What could it hurt?”

He looks at me, convinced it could hurt plenty.

“Just one quick look—only to determine if it’s real or not. Then we’ll head right back home and get started with your lesson, okay?”

But he doesn’t say anything. Just nods and motions me in.

I head for the chair on the other side of the desk, settling in and leaning toward the drawer when Rayne says, “Just so you know, we heard everything. Our hearing is exceptional. Maybe you should stick with telepathy instead.”

Determined to ignore her, I place my hand on the lock, closing my eyes as I open it with my mind, flicking a quick glance at Damen as I rummage inside. Digging past the pile of papers, the folders, and tossing the calculator aside, before reaching the false bottom, grabbing hold of the book, and plopping it onto the desk. Fingers tingling, ears buzzing from the energy it contains.

The twins rush forward, gazing upon the ancient tome with more reverence than I’ve ever seen from them before.

“So, what do you think? Is it real?” My gaze darts between them, so breathless I can barely form the words.

Romy tilts her head, face quizzical, until Rayne reaches forward and opens to the very first page. The two of them gasping, twin intakes of breath, as their eyes grow wide and they take it all in.

Rayne perches on the edge of the desk, angling the book so it faces her and her sister, as Romy leans across her lap, tracing her fingers along the series of symbols—markings that are completely indecipherable to me—though from the way their lips move makes perfect sense to them.

I glance at Damen standing directly behind them, his face belying any emotion as he watches the twins mumble and giggle, jostling each other in excitement as they flip through the pages.

“So?” I say, unable to take the suspense and needing a verbal either way.

“Real.” Rayne nods, eyes still focused on the page. “Who ever put this together knew their stuff.”

“You mean, there’s more than one?” I squint, glancing between them, barely able to meet their eyes under their lush fringe of lashes and jagged-cut bangs.

“Sure.” Romy nods. “There’s tons. Book of Shadows is just a generic title for a spell book. They think the name originated due to the fact that the books had to be kept hidden, in the shadows so to speak, because of their content.”

“Yeah,” Rayne cuts in, “but some also say it’s because they were often read and written by candlelight, which casts shadows as you know.”

Romy shrugs. “Either way, they’re written in code to avoid the danger of falling into the wrong hands. But the truly powerful ones, the ones like this”—she stabs the page with her index finger, which is newly painted ballet slipper pink—“are extremely rare and hard to find. Hidden away for the very same reason.”

“So it’s powerful? And real?” I repeat, needing it confirmed one more time.

Rayne looks at me, shaking her head like I’m too dense to be believed, while her sister nods, saying, “You can actually feel the energy of the words on the page. It’s quite powerful, I assure you.”

“So, you think it’ll be useful then? You think it might help us—you—with your needs?” Eyes darting between them, hoping they’ll say yes while carefully avoiding Damen’s gaze.

“We’re a little rusty—” Romy starts. “So we can’t say for sure—”

“Speak for yourself,” Rayne says, flipping back toward the front until finding the page that she wants. Repeating a stream of words I can’t even begin to understand as though it’s her native tongue. “See that?” She waves her hand in the air, laughing as the lights flicker on and off. “I wouldn’t exactly call that rusty.”

“Yes, but since they were supposed to burst into flames, you’re still a long ways away,” Romy says, arms folded, brow raised.

“Burst into flames?” I glance at Damen. He was right, this is dangerous in the wrong hands—their hands.

But Romy and Rayne just laugh, falling all over themselves when they say, “Psych! We totally psyched you! Ha!”

“You are too gullible to be believed!” Rayne adds, seizing any chance to make a fool of me.