The Hidden Grimoire Karla Brandenburg (best color ereader TXT) 📖

I opened the map link on my phone, which calculated an hour and forty-nine minutes to get to Brown’s Landing. If I left right away, I’d be there by lunchtime. That would allow plenty of time to grab a bite to eat before my visit with Hannah and still get me home in time for dinner tonight.

With one last glance at the workroom to make sure Ash wasn’t meant to join me—she’d flopped to her side, eyes closed—I walked outside. Kyle had shoveled my driveway and I made a mental note to thank him when I got home tonight.

The bright sun reflected off yesterday’s snow, evaporating what remained on the roads while creating blinding glare. The GPS on my phone called out directions, and in an hour and a half, I arrived in Brown’s Landing.

I left the highway for a road that ran alongside the Fox River. Barren trees lined the banks, allowing an unobstructed view of water tumbling over rocks and branches while I drove upstream. Bends and turns led me deeper into the woods, with an occasional glimpse of the water as I made my way farther inland. I pictured the canopy overhead in the summer months, lush and green. The GPS alerted me to my destination as I rounded the final bend and the castle came into view. Situated in a landscaped meadow, I recognized it from the pictures on the website.

The road ended in a lot, where half a dozen other cars were parked.

A voice echoed inside my head. Welcome.

Well. That was nice. I sent a telepathic thank you, parked, and got out of my car.

The castle was huge, and I wasn’t sure where to go. A tower with crenellations marked the corner of the building, with an arched wooden door at the base. A welcome sign was mounted beside the door. The entrance. I followed the curving sidewalk, and when I reached the door, a woman opened it for me.

She had long blonde hair that cascaded over her shoulders, as many white strands as flaxen. Grace lines fanned from cornflower blue eyes and well-worn ridges creased her face with her smile. She wore a long, flowing dress made from a purple paisley print with smocking across the bodice that made me think of a princess gown.

“You must be Brynn Taylor.” She held out a hand to invite me inside, a collection of rings on her fingers and bracelets jangling at her wrist. “I understand we met briefly at the solstice, but we weren’t introduced. I’m Hannah Noonan. It’s lovely to meet you officially.”

“Likewise. Thank you for inviting me.” I walked inside, to a small room which doubled as the reception area. A polished suit of armor stood at attention opposite the check-in desk. Shields and heraldry decorated the walls.

“Nora mentioned you were looking for ideas. Why don’t you accompany me to my office and we can talk about your problem there.”

“Thank you.” I unbuttoned my coat while I followed her along a wide corridor to an arched wooden door marked private. Hannah reached into a pocket and produced a large skeleton key. She unlocked the door to a stone staircase that curved downward between narrow fieldstone walls. Hannah took a black candle from a sconce in the wall to light the way.

“How very medieval,” I said.

She sent me a wink over her shoulder. “I do appreciate a little atmosphere. That, and it’s difficult to light the staircase here.”

At the bottom, she opened yet another door to a cavernous room that contained an earthy smell. A metal triquetra sculpture decorated the wall.

“Is this the cellar room on your website?” I asked.

“It is. We use this room for wiccan gatherings from time to time.”

“You said this was your office.”

“My personal office, yes. Not my business office. This is my private space.” Hannah set the candle onto a candleholder and flipped on a switch.

The dim lighting showed me more fieldstone. A pentagram was inlaid in the hardwood floor. A bookcase took up one wall, containing an assortment of compartments both big and small, and a built-in desk. Shadows darkened the corners of the room. I made out the shape of an end table in one corner.

With a sweep of her hand, Hannah proffered a half bow. “Welcome to the coven.”

Chapter 23

If I hadn’t considered myself a witch before now, Hannah seemed intent on clearing up any misunderstanding.

“The first thing we should do is cast a spell for positive magical energy,” she said. She crossed to the bookshelf and retrieved a grimoire, except hers had a metal band with a lock. She didn’t, however, use a key to open it. Hannah sent me a sideways glance and a half-grin. “As I’m sure you’re aware, the books don’t require a lock, but my ancestors must have liked the idea as a visual deterrent.”

She set one hand on her hip and turned to face me, narrowing her eyes.

I tucked my hair behind my ears. “Is something wrong?”

“Your aura is green,” she told me.

I pulled up my cell phone for the picture of the chart. Ingenuity. Compassion. Growth. Okay. I also didn’t have a signal.

“I wanted to check before we got started. Make sure we weren’t wasting time. I hope you don’t mind.” She waved a finger toward my phone. “You won’t be able to use that down here.”

I tucked my phone into my pocket. “This place is great. How did you come to own a castle?”

“My family used to be logger barons,” she told me while she flipped through the book. “They put aside a fairly sizable fortune, which makes me a trust fund baby. My contribution was to plant trees—hundreds of them—here, on the grounds, to make amends for what my family stripped away years ago.” She stopped on a page and put a finger on the vellum as if to hold her place while she looked at me. “Found it. I want to create the proper atmosphere before we work on your