The Legend of Diablo by V. S. McGrath

Author:V. S. McGrath [McGrath, V. S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fantasty, weird west, historical, adventure, young adult, diverse, magic
Publisher: Brain Mill Press
Published: 2019-09-17T05:00:00+00:00

Berkeley took another key from his ring and unlocked the room at the far end of the hall. The molding around the double doors was carved with runes, the doors themselves painted with a number of spells Hettie recognized as wards against the Eye.

As soon as she stepped through, she felt the space around her closing in. The gallery was filled with row upon row of shelves and cabinets, some open, some locked, every single one piled high with books, talismans, and more.

Two shelves were devoted entirely to the bones of various animals. At least she hoped they were all just animals. Another held jars of murky liquid containing preserved specimens—two-headed frogs and snakes, lizards with rainbow scales, small mammals that looked like crosses between rats and fish. Berkeley was as excited as a young boy showing off his toys as he pointed out all his favorite things.

Plants overflowed from the shelves closest to the heavily barred windows. Long green tendrils reached and grasped for her as they walked past, clinging to her hair and clothes. She batted them away and nearly stumbled into a huge potted succulent, deep purple with spiny ridges tipped in red. It bloomed as she bumped it, opening like a cavernous mouth, the sticky exposed pulp glistening and fragrant.

The scent burned in her nostrils, but there was something familiar about it. Something that reminded her of…

“Whoa, now.” Berkeley yanked her back. “That’s not a plant you want to go sniffing. That’s how it gets you. You lean in for a whiff…” He grabbed a nearby branch and brushed the pink pulp with the leaves. The succulent’s meaty petals slammed wetly shut, snapping the branch. Hettie recoiled. “The nectar it produces is used in a number of complicated spells. It’s also great for catching rats. Unfortunately, it got one of the maids. Digested her for a few days before we found her and could get her out. We call it the Marriage Trap, though I think the colloquial name is the Whore’s Mouth.”

Hettie grimaced. “Should it be sitting out like this, being so dangerous?”

“Why do you think I have all these keys? You’re the only other person I’ve allowed in here since poor Sophie’s demise.”

Golden ringlets flashed in her mind. Hettie’s head throbbed hard.

“You remember her?” Berkeley asked carefully. “I’m sorry…Sophie was your maid for a while. You didn’t get along all the time, but when she was killed…” He shook his head. “You mourned her like she was family.”

Sophie. Yes, that sounded…right? She had some impression of a certain haughtiness.

Berkeley urged her on through the library of oddities. She passed a case containing a number of metal objects—daggers, spoons, an oil lamp. Thoroughly mundane-looking everyday items.

“Enchanted metal,” Berkeley explained. “That spoon belonged to an aristocratic Scottish sorcerer from the twelfth century who made it to detect poison in his food. That lamp there was said to have once imprisoned a djinn. That pack of needles? Spelled to never pierce living flesh, though they could pierce through diamonds as if they were butter.

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