Secret Of The Rose (Legacy Of Magick Series, Book 2) (19 page)

“You’ve had a hard time... adjusting to all of this,” Ro said. “I’m sorry.”

I wanted to ask my questions quickly, before she faded away like before. “Ro— I mean Grandma Rose. What can you tell me about the Blood Moon Grimoire?”

“That it is best left buried.”

“It’s too late for that—I already found a part of it. I know it was torn into three pieces.”

“Four pieces.” Ro frowned at me. “There are four.”

“My vision showed me three.”

“Three sections of pages, and the cover—four,” Ro insisted.

Aw hell, we had more to find?
“Okay, four then. Where are they?” I asked.

“You may search far and wide across the land, but a house divided cannot stand,” Ro said.

“Seriously? You’re going to rhyme at me?”

The ghost of my grandmother gave me a chastising look.

I held up my hands in surrender. “Okay fine. But is that a spell, or a
warning
?” I noticed her image began to waver. “Hey, you said you would be here for a while. Don’t go!”

“Trying,” Ro frowned, as if in concentration. “Trying to stay.”

Suddenly I figured it out. It took real effort for Ro to appear to me. “It’s hard for you to look corporeal, isn’t it?”

My grandmother’s image nodded in confirmation. She was slightly less ‘there’ when she moved closer to me and reached out. “Tell no one there are four. Promise me.”

“Okay. Nobody will know about the four sections. I promise.”

“There are alliances to be drawn, dark magicks to neutralize, and enemies to defeat—”

“Who?” I asked. “
Who
is our enemy?”

“You must discover these things for yourself.”

“You don’t understand what’s been happening around here,” I said.

I saw her reach up, and I swear I felt my hair being touched. “I am bound. I cannot tell you directly.”

“Bound?”

“The spell that brought my death. I am bound.”

“You have to help me. The family is in danger. Give me a clue.
Something
!” I begged her.

“Only you can know.”

“Only me,” I promised again, as I watched a tear slide down her cheek.

“Sub Rosa,” she whispered and gestured to the rose I held.

“Sub Rosa,” I repeated.

My grandmother nodded once, blew me a kiss, and faded away.

Darkness fell, and the gardens were hushed. I heard the neighbors pull into their driveway of the cottage next door, and they waved cautiously at me from the other side of the wrought iron fence. I grimaced and waved back, trying to look casual. The older couple scurried inside, and I couldn’t have cared less what they thought of me standing out here.

Alone in the dark.

Talking to thin air.

The decorative solar lights in the rose garden came on, and I noticed the orange Halloween lights that decorated the front of the house had also popped on, thanks to their dusk to dawn timer. I was thankful that they had, as it made it slightly less creepy being outside by myself. Overwhelmed, I sat on the concrete bench in the garden.

Good god. There were
four
pieces of the Blood Moon Grimoire. And I was to tell no one about that. Our house was divided— weakened, and we were under attack. Now that I thought about it, that statement made sense— considering what had recently happened. The manor had been ransacked and the witchy wards hadn’t even slowed the vandals down. The revelation of Bran’s parentage had caused a big tear down the middle of the Bishops. Ro had warned me of alliances to be drawn, enemies to defeat, bad magick to stop... No, to
neutralize
. She’d said.

At least she’d given me some information and a clue. Sort of.

Information and a clue that I’d promised not to reveal— to anyone. “Thanks for that,” I muttered and dragged a hand through my hair. As much as I hated secrets, damned if I’d found myself forced to keep one. I let my hand fall in my lap, and it landed on the rose, the gift from my grandmother.

I gently picked it up, and my gaze swung from the flower to the family rose garden surrounding me.
Sub Rosa?
I knew the phrase from an Ancient Civilizations class I had taken as an undergrad. Sub Rosa was Latin. It literally meant ‘under the rose’, and was an old term for secrets. As a matter of fact, some occult societies still used the term, and it was usually illustrated as a rose being held upside down.

And she’d handed me a rose. Was it that simple?
I jumped to my feet and started to pace. I stopped in front of the pretty garden statue of the Goddess Diana. My grandmother had left a flower there once, was it an offering? Or had it been a clue to where to find another piece of the Blood Moon Grimoire?

She’d said buried. It was best left buried...
“What if a piece of the Blood Moon Grimoire was buried under the roses?” I asked myself.

My heart started to pound in excitement. I needed to get the shovels, flashlights, maybe a metal detector... Nope. Scratch that. Paper pages wouldn’t show up with a metal detector. I could try dowsing for the pages. I had read about using a pendulum to show you where things were buried. My mind raced as I considered the possibilities.

“Autumn... ” The voice floated out of the dark.

My head snapped up, I spun to face the direction the voice had come from. I braced myself, wondering who or
what
was coming at me now.

CHAPTER TWELVE

A dark shape slowly moved out of the shadows and into the soft lighting of the rose garden. I heard my own heart pound, and then I recognized the figure.

“Aunt Faye!” I pressed my hand to my heart. “You scared me!” My great aunt walked towards me in a flowing black caftan. Her silver hair was long and loose and streamed around her shoulders. Standing there in the night, she
looked
like a Witch. The kind you read about in the very old, very creepy fairy tales.

“Did you see your grandmother’s ghost again?” Aunt Faye asked.

“I did.”

“Did she communicate with you?”

Aw hell. What to say that wouldn’t be a lie, but would still keep my promise?
Stalling, and trying to gather my thoughts,I walked out of the garden and towards Aunt Faye. “Well, I told her that I knew she was my grandmother... And that I’d learned about Bran.”

Aunt Faye fell in with me, as we walked towards the front of the manor. “What else?”

“She said she was sorry I was having a hard time adjusting to everything,” I said truthfully.

“I see.” Aunt Faye nodded and hooked her arm through mine. “Sorry if I startled you.”

I tried to change the subject. “You know, if you wore this outfit on Halloween and answer the door for the trick-or-treaters, you wouldn’t even need a costume.”

Aunt Faye smiled as we went up the porch steps. Before I could duck inside, she latched onto my arm with a surprising amount of force. “I hope that when you are ready, you’ll come to me. I would never betray your confidence.”

I regarded those pale colored eyes.
She knew.
She knew that I wasn’t telling her everything. I felt a pulling sensation around my temples, and realized that she was trying to read me. I yanked back so we were no longer touching. “Stay out of my head, and maybe I will tell you... Eventually.”

“Felt that, did you?” Aunt Faye grinned. “Excellent. You are much more sensitive than I thought. I look forward to working with you, to help you refine those gifts.” She patted my arm like she was proud of me. “For now, I will leave you alone with your thoughts.
And
with that gift from your grandmother.” She nodded towards the purple rose in my hand, and she opened the door.

I frowned after her. There wasn’t even any point asking how she had known.

Aunt Faye turned. “Oh, and tell Duncan I said hello. He’s such a handsome young man.” She winked at me and went inside.

As if she’d conjured him up, my cell phone started to play the
Bewitched
theme song. Proud of myself for not even flinching at Aunt Faye’s prediction, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked the read out.

That canny old Witch.

“Hi, Duncan. What do you know about dowsing?” I said.

***    

Thursday morning, I pretended to sleep in. Behind my locked door, I waited— fully dressed, until I heard the family leave for the day. As luck would have it, everything had worked out perfectly. Bran had meetings, Gwen was off to Enchantments, the twins were at school, and even Aunt Faye had plans- she was getting her hair trimmed... or something.

Last night, Duncan had suggested that I try dowsing using a pendulum. I had practiced using one of Ivy’s before I went to bed and was optimistic with the results I’d achieved. She and I had sat up for hours working with the quartz crystal pendulum. All I had to do was casually mention to Ivy that I’d read about pendulums and wanted to try one, and she’d morphed into witchcraft instructor mode. Looking forward to trying it out all by myself, I opened my bedroom door slowly and stuck my head out.

Besides Merlin sitting in the hall and giving me the kitty stink eye, there was no one home. Humming the theme song from
Mission Impossible
, I scurried to the garage, grabbed my shovels, cut through the back yard, and headed for the rose garden.

I set the tools down. The breeze was chilly this morning, so I tugged my hood up, and pulled the crystal pendulum out of my jacket pocket. I figured a little magickal back up wouldn’t hurt, so I held out the pendulum and improvised a quick charm. “I seek to find what was buried. By the powers of earth, pendulum show me where to dig.”

The pendulum began to move in a lazy circle. I moved carefully forward into the rose garden and following my hunch— headed towards the statue of the moon Goddess Diana. Step by step I went forward, trying to hold my arm steady, watching the circling pendulum. I’d gone about five feet when the pendulum dramatically started to swing side to side. I backed up, it circled. I moved forward— it went side to side.

“Ha!” I was about two feet in front of the statue, so I set the pendulum down to mark the spot and started digging in the middle of the garden path with a hand shovel. Gleefully, I dug up the path. I’d dug down about six inches when my shovel struck something.

I dropped down to my hands and knees and started to paw at the ground.
Oh my god, this was so fast!
Delighted with my sleuthing abilities, I pulled the earth away in handfuls, and saw a glimpse of white. I pulled more dirt away and my ‘discovery’ came to light.

I’d found something alright. The damn irrigation system.

I shook my head at myself and blew out an aggravated breath. What had I improvised with that charm?
I seek to find what was buried?
Well shit. Annoyed at myself, and my less-than-stellar attempt at sleuthing, I covered back up the PVC pipe and filled in the hole. I had barely finished smoothing the mulch path back into place when I heard a
click
.

I saw several sprinkler heads rise up out of the ground, and before I could stand up—I got sprayed straight in the face with water. With a shriek, I fell back onto my butt. Apparently, the sprinkler system was scheduled to come on and water the roses in the morning.

“Damn it!” I scrambled back, and for a second I swore I heard my grandmother’s ghost laughing at me. “That’s not funny, Ro!” I grabbed my stuff, got out of the line of fire, and hurried out of the garden. Even though she did not appear to me, I had a hunch she was around somewhere.
Probably laughing her ghostly ass off.
I wiped some water off my face with my jacket sleeve and stomped to the back patio. I stood there soaking wet, annoyed, and dripping on the brick pavers.

I caught my own soaked reflection in the glass of the back door, and my anger turned to laughter. Nancy Drew I was not. Thankfully, no one as at home to witness my little screw up. I sat in a patio chair and tried to figure out where to look next. Clearly,
under the rose
did not mean ‘under the rose garden’. While I sat there, the back door of the manor suddenly opened.

Aunt Faye stepped outside wearing a tiny pair of blue, round sunglasses, a paisley shirt, skinny jeans and a denim jacket. Chunky turquoise jewelry dangled from her ears and wrapped around her neck. “Watering the gardens, were we?” She arched a brow.

“I thought you had a haircut appointment.”

Aunt Faye flipped her hair over one shoulder, “I came back because I forgot my cell phone.” She held it up.

“You look like you are off to a photo shoot or something.” I said, hoping to distract her. But invariably, it was true. The old woman had an impressively stylish wardrobe. And an amazing sense of fashion for a senior citizen.

Aunt Faye pulled her glasses down and peered at me from over the rims. “You’re trying to distract me from whatever mischief you are up to.”

I felt the tug on my thoughts. “Stay out of my head,” I grumbled.

“Well, I’m off to my hair appointment and manicure.” She regarded my filthy hands and frowned. “Darling, you could use a mani yourself.”

I had to laugh. “Yeah, I suppose I could. I’ve never had a manicure before.”

“
What
?” Aunt Faye sounded horrified at the thought.

“I used to work at a nursery, remember? You plant things, you get dirty hands.”

My great aunt shuddered. “Why don’t you clean up and come with me? My treat on the manicure, and then we could go to lunch.”

Call me psychic, but I had a hunch that she was not going to leave me alone today. Especially now that she suspected I was up to something. I sighed, my master plan foiled by a seventy year old. “Okay, give me five minutes.”

I put the tools away, scrubbed off the dirt in the potting room sink, and went up to my room to change. I tossed on my favorite persimmon colored sweater, a fresh pair of jeans and my neon green running shoes. I ran a brush through my hair, grabbed my pleather jacket, and jogged down the stairs. As my hand trailed along the banister, I noticed, for the first time, that five petal roses were carved into the wood trim along the main staircase.