Page 15 of Infernal Secrets

A normal person would’ve left the store when the power returned to the mall—right after I entered. A sane person would’ve high-tailed it out of the store the moment the woman started talking about wheels of destiny and offering free books straight out of an occult horror movie.

Apparently, I was neither normal nor sane.

There was a strong case against my sanity growing by the day, especially after the strange sensations in the bookstore.

If only I could tell someone what I saw. But I wouldn’t make that mistake. Ever.

After tackling the floors, I started on the apple crisp I’d promised Mrs. Stevenson.

The scent of cinnamon and baked apples filled the air, making my mouth water when I pulled the crisp from the oven.

Once it cooled enough to carry, I rushed the crisp and cake to the Stevensons’, using their awning to shield me from the rain. They needed to be up early for their drive, so I couldn’t wait for a lull in the rain to deliver the goods.

I couldn’t recall the name of the town where the reunion was taking place, but I knew they’d be away for the entire weekend. Either way, I had no intention of being up at the ass crack of dawn tomorrow unless I had to work.

Once back home, I ordered a mushroom-and-pepperoni pizza with extra cheese, mixed a vodka cranberry, and collapsed onto the sofa. I tucked my feet beneath me and grabbed the remote, flipping through the streaming options on the flat screen.

My gaze slid to the bag sitting at the end of the sofa, stuffed with my new books.

“Soul’s greatest need, huh? I’ve got all I need, lady.”

When the pizza arrived, I made myself another drink and flopped onto the sofa, kicking back with a slice and turning on a random movie.

After the storm killed the power and reset the router for the third time, I gave up on the movie. The cranberry vodka buzz kept me from screaming in frustration, but not by much.

Tomorrow will be different. I hoped, but doubt lingered and left me uneasy.

After putting the leftovers in the refrigerator, I mixed one last drink, turned off all the downstairs lights except the stove light, and grabbed the bag of books before heading upstairs.

A small landing led into two bedrooms. The spare room held my bookshelves and exercise equipment alongside a bed and nightstand for guests—like Maya on movie night.

After putting away the paperbacks, I carried the strange leather book to my bedroom.

I kept my space neat, except for the overflowing hamper beside the black dresser holding my makeup, perfumes, jewelry, and a couple of candles.

I turned on the bedside lamp and set my drink on a folded paper towel before sliding beneath the soft sheets and comforter embellished with dark watercolor foliage. The soothing scent of fabric softener enveloped me as I leaned against the headboard.

I took a sip of my drink and sighed, tracing the design on the cover of the book with my fingers. A strange warmth bloomed where my necklace touched my skin beneath my shirt. “What’s so important about you?”

The room illuminated with a flash of lightning. Thunder chased the light as strong winds rattled the windows.

One more sip—a toast to end this strange and terrible day—before I opened the book.

The pages were an aged beige with uncut edges. Either the book was older than dirt or the publishers went all out to create a custom edition. The text wasn’t in English, and the imagery on the pages reminded me of the nightmares that had haunted me since childhood. One full spread depicted dozens of creatures tearing apart a woman, her mouth frozen in a perpetual scream.

I shuddered as I drained the last of my drink and flipped the page. Symbols, gibberish, and more unreadable text sprawled across the paper, decorated with brown-gray blood splatters that looked unnervingly real. Someone put in a lot of effort to make the book creepy.

Reaching the middle of the book, I stopped on a page written in English.

When the soul is heavy with weariness and the heart shattered, one must take fate into their own hands. When a strong heart stands on the precipice of potential destruction, it must cast fear aside or wither and die. When everything seems hopeless and the mind is held prisoner, one must believe.

Your Nyrith shall see you at peace again.

Rereading the passage, I scrunched my face. Why did a book that seemed ancient have a random page in the middle written in modern English? Even bibles on bookshelves today used “thou, thy, and thine.” Weird.

I looked down at the last line. “What’s a Nyrith?”

Blowing out a breath that made my lips sputter like I’d blown a raspberry, I dragged my gaze down the page.