of the Dark Wood belong to a secret organization sworn to protect humankind. They are forbidden to marry unless they leave the brotherhood. I knew how much being a Knight meant to John and could not ask him to forsake his vows. And he knew that I could not renounce my magic.
We were very young and very much in love and we married in secret, certain no one except his father would ever know. I swore never to reveal his secret or betray the brotherhood, and he vowed never to tell anyone that I was a witch. In those days, it was not safe to be a witch or a warlock. I rather doubt that has changed, as mere mortals have always tended to view those who are different from themselves with suspicion and fear.
John and I were married almost ten years—exciting years filled with danger and adventure. When he was killed by a vampire, I thought my life was over. And then I met your grandfather. Will, too, was a wonderful man. Sadly, he passed away shortly before you were born. I never told him that I was a witch. He was a solid, down-to-earth person and would never have approved or understood. Your dear mother never knew, either, although I think she suspected, since she knew her grandmother also had the Gift. It seems to skip a generation and is bestowed only on the women of our family.
I know I should have told you the truth about myself when you were old enough to understand. I had hopes that my magic had passed on to you when you tried to turn water into chocolate milk, and again when you tried to turn water into hot cocoa. But, after that, you never displayed any magical abilities, or indicated you had any interest in the Arts. And even though I knew you suspected what I was, you never asked any questions or seemed interested and I thought it best to wait. Sometimes the Gift comes late in life. If it has come to you, I would caution you to use it wisely.
I have protected you against evil as best I can. The Knights of the Dark Wood are still active, still sworn to protect humankind from any and all supernatural creatures. And although they never actively hunted witches, they have been known to destroy them if one crosses their path.
If you choose to explore your magical talent, you will find my grimoire helpful. Use it to freshen the wards around our home. It is a simple spell, on page 407. I’m sure the wards I originally erected have faded with time.
I would also warn you against vampires—yes, I know from personal experience that they exist—both Transylvanian and Hungarian. The first will steal your life, the second your soul.
Always trust your heart, my dearest child. Rely on your faith. And know that I am always with you.
Callie thumbed through the rest of the pages, but they were blank. It seemed odd, she thought, that her grandmother would have chosen such a large book for such a brief entry. Had she intended to write more? If so, why hadn’t she?
Callie closed the journal, then sat there, staring into the distance as she tried to process all she had read. After sliding the book under one of the bed pillows, she stood and stretched her back and shoulders.
She had a lot to think about.
* * *
Callie was still in her PJs when the doorbell rang. A little thrill of excitement ran through her as she hurried to open the door. She knew it was Quill, yet after reading her grandmother’s journal, she paused, her hand on the latch. With Knights and vampires at large, it paid to be careful.
Peering through the peephole, she saw that, as she’d suspected, it was Quill.
Smiling, she opened the door, eager to tell him what she’d found, when she saw the dark sapphire-blue convertible adorned with a large red bow sitting in her driveway. “Don’t tell me you bought another Jaguar?” she exclaimed. Although she couldn’t blame him. It was gorgeous.
“I did, indeed. Do you like it?”
“Well, the bow’s a bit much, but it’s beautiful.”
“It’s yours.”
“What?”
He shrugged. “I wanted to buy you something.”
“But . . . why?”
“It’s a gift, Callie. You don’t question it. You just accept it.”
She shook her head. “I can’t take that. It must have cost a fortune.”
“It isn’t polite to ask the price, or to refuse a gift freely given.”
“Really, Quill, I don’t feel