"Well," he said, "it's a magickal tool—so, yes. It's sacred. But it belongs to me, and I have no problem with you using it. Whether or not it works pretty much on you. Magickal tools function when the user brings their magick to them."

"You mean, like the toaster only works when you plug it in? Then it can use its bread-charring powers."

"Exactly." He nodded with a smile. "The tool is the toaster. You're the socket."

I accepted the athame, and he fished through his bag and removed a white candle and a piece of chalk.

"I'll cast the spell," he said. "We're going to see of your energy can guise us. I'll lead you as we go, so don't worry."

"Okay," I agreed, feeling weird with the heavy athame in my hand. "How do I hold it up? Up, or down, or out…"

"Just let your arm fall naturally by your side," he said, expertly drawing a circle around us. Then he placed the candle in the middle, between us, and drew a series of runes around it in chalk. Standing, he lightly took hold of my right wrist, gripping just below the handle of the athame. He flashed me a look to see if I was ready, and I nodded.

"Aingeal," he intoned.

The candle snapped to life. I guess I shouldn't have been so startled. I'd seen both Morgan and Evelyn do that. Still, to see Charlie do it surprised me.

"Sinn sir ni keillit," he continued. The metal of the athame grew warm. He tightened his grip on my wrist—not enough to hurt me, but enough to have a firm grasp. "Tar er ahs, seòl heen."

I saw now why he had tightened his hold. My arm began to quake, and for a moment I thought I might drop the athame. He locked his hand around mine and looked down at me. Magick was flowing through us, between us. I could feel his strength as he controlled its flow. I’m not sure if it was the magick or simply being so close it him, but my heart started beating like crazy. It seemed so loud that I actually thought he would be able to hear it.

In one movement our arms rose together—mine started to come forward, pushing his back. It was pointing the athame to a spot on the floor. He couldn’t see it because it was behind him, but a square appeared in that spot. It was made of symbols, very finely drawn in a bluish light. I wanted to say something, but I thought it might ruin the spell. As it was, he seemed aware that something was happening, even though he couldn’t see what I saw.

Giving thanks to the Goddess and the God, he ended the spell, but he held on to my hand for a moment. We said nothing—just stood there, looking at each other. I felt the warmth of his body and could smell the faint smell of laundry detergent, some kind of spicy men’s deodorant, and faint traces of sage smoke. Charlie smell. So nice. As he gazed down at me, I realized that he was the only person who could really stare at me like that without my wanting to turn away or hide my face. I could actually look him right in the eye and not flinch. Even though his expression was serious and intent, his mouth still retained its wide, happy curve. It was as if he was born to smile and make others smile. Such a nice mouth.

Such a what? What was I thinking?

Unintentionally I pulled away. He backed up, as though I startled him. His face was flushed, and he didn’t seem to know where to look for a moment.

“There’s a… thing on the floor,” I mumbled, pointing.

“Good!” he said, quickly kneeling down and snapping out the candle flame with his fingers. “That’s what was supposed to happen. We did it. Good work.”

I brushed the chalk circle away as Charlie sprawled flat on the floor to examine the symbols up close. I saw him working his way all around the square. By now my mind was everywhere it shouldn’t be. I could only see the length of his body, the way the sleeves of his T-shirt tightened around his upper arms, the speed of his movements.

Cousin’s boyfriend, I kept saying to myself over and over and over.

“Okay,” he said, getting up to his knees. “This shouldn’t be too bad. Finding it was the hard part. The seal itself isn’t a tremendous piece of work.” He reached back for his bag and started rooting through it again, producing a handful of runes.

“Have you got a whole magick shop in there?” I asked.

“No ma’am,” he said. “Just the basics. Some candles, chalk, athame, runes. All the things a witch should never travel without, especially when they’re trying to break into other witches’ private library.”

I gulped, feeling a pang of guilt as he set a rune in each corner of the box, then put the white candle in the center. He muttered a spell quietly to himself. The candle winked to life again, and over the next few minutes, as he spelled and tapped his athame around its perimeter, the dusty patch of floor revealed itself to be a wooden door with a round handle.

“Voilà,” he said, looking up in satisfaction. “One trapdoor.”

“That was amazing,” I told him, completely awed. “You’re like a safecracker.” He didn’t reply, just gave a nervous little laugh.

When we opened the wooden door, we found a switch that turned on a set of overhead lights. They revealed a set of tiny steps that dropped almost straight down into a darker room. Charlie went down first, then offered up his hand to help me down. He had to bend down, as the low ceiling didn’t give him much clearance.

You’d think a room under a house like this would be musty and dirty, but it was spotlessly clean. The walls and floor where made of smooth stone. There was an air filter and dehumidifier. Every inch of space was carefully utilized. The walls were completely set with shelves, and several freestanding floor-to-ceiling bookcases sat back-to-back in in eight rows, the pathways between the rows of books were narrow, just large enough for one person to pass through with a step stool. In one corner there was a small antique reading table with a lamp and two chairs.

“This place is great,” he said, his expression melting into one of amazement at the sight of all the books. It was like watching a little kid at an amusement park, so deliriously excited that they don’t know where to head first. In his enthusiasm he stumbled but caught himself on one of the bookcases.

“It’s my ballet training coming through,” he said with a smile as his face turned charmingly pink. The he bounded off into the stacks.

As Charlie devoured the titles on the shelves, I walked around quietly, taking in the magnitude and splendor of the collection. Many of the books, though ancient, weren’t particularly frail. They’d been so well taken care of that age had only affected them slightly. There were books in strange blocky print, dating well back into the 1600s. There were books in all kinds of languages, in mysterious prints and symbols. Some sections were full of dry, academic-sounding titles. Others were filled with books so exotic looking that I was actually frightened to touch them.

As I turned down one aisle, it was as if the books were whispering to me. I glanced over their titles. I couldn’t read any of them. They looked like German to me, lots of huge words starting with das or der. Still, even though I couldn’t understand them, I wanted to touch them. I wanted to pull them from the shelves. I wanted—this one—Edelsteine und Metalle, whatever that meant. I needed this book. Gently I slipped it from the shelf. It seemed warm to the touch, as if I’d been holding it for a long time. Surprisingly there was nothing on the front cover. It was plain green book, covered in cloth, obviously very old. I flipped it back and looked at the spine again, but I now saw nothing written there.

I almost dropped the book in shock.

“Charlie!” I called, my voice husky.

He came right around from the row behind. I explained what I had seen and offered the book to him. He took it, examined it all over.

“Edelsteine und Metalle,” he said, holding the spine out for me too see. “Something and metals.”