“Why did no one ever bother to train me this way?” I ask Max as Aunt Elaine corrects Colin’s form. We all have different powers, but some are more similar than others: Aunt Elaine’s aura reading helped her teach Rose about her empathy, and Gran’s telekinesis helped Uncle Roy learn about his pyrokinesis.

My power’s similar to Nora’s, since we both have visions, but she’s never pulled me aside like this. No one has.

Max nudges me with his head, and I scratch behind his ears. “They must think it’s not worth it,” I tell him. “Why bother? I can’t even do anything worthwhile at the inn.”

I know I’m sulking, but I can’t shake the feeling. Even Aunt Elaine and Uncle Roy, who are only around half the year in total when they’re not in Ireland, have important roles here. Uncle Roy handles repairs around the house (of course, he’s usually the cause of the damage) and Aunt Elaine coordinates events and is the go-to person for guest services. Rose tends the grounds, Kara handles bookings, and Nora heads it all.

I give people directions.

This is why I have to help stop whatever sinister plan is in motion. I have to prove that my powers are useful. That I can be useful and that I belong at Ravenfall.

My determination resurging, I pick up the journal and roll onto my stomach to flick through the pages. If it’s full of magical information, maybe it has something about an evil being who can kill with a touch and help wraiths absorb their host’s souls.

Max joins me, sometimes batting the page with his paw as it flutters past his face. Whoever did these drawings is really good. Everything is so vivid, and I run my fingers over a sketch of a golem, half expecting to feel it come to life. My dad would love looking through this, if only for all the magical items.

I stop on a drawing of two wicked-looking blades that takes up the whole page. They’re smooth and black, with hairline streaks of gold, and I swear they’re singing. Max leans an ear to the page; then he starts purring louder than I’ve ever heard.

Gathering the journal into my arms, I leap to my feet and cross the field to where Colin and Uncle Roy are taking a water break.

“Aunt Elaine,” I call, flipping the journal around. “What are these?”

Aunt Elaine gapes at the knives as if they’d jumped out and spooked her, and she takes the journal from me with reverent hands. I haven’t seen her this excited since my dad handed over responsibility for Ravenfall’s library to her.

“Saint Knives!” Uncle Roy peers wonderingly over his sister’s shoulder. “How the heck did they get ahold of a set of those?” He reaches for the journal.