Ava: Grimoire's Plans
Ignoring Sister Miriam's curious stare, I dart for the cupboard where Grimoire's resting.
I rush to the cupboard, my fingers tingling as they make contact with Grimoire's supple leather cover. The moment I touch him, his mental shouts pierce my mind like a blast of thunder.
"Grimoire, for the love of all that's holy, quiet down!" I wince, pressing my free hand to my temple. "Speak at a normal volume before you shatter my mental eardrums."
The roaring stops abruptly. Through our bond, I sense an almost sheepish energy emanating from the book. He clears his mental throat.
You've been wasting time theorizing when you could have just consulted with me, Grimoire says, sounding far too condescending for someone who was screaming at me to notice him.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "Now you tell me."
"Ava?" Lucas's voice cuts through our conversation. I turn to find him frowning at me, confusion etched across his face. "What's going on?"