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Witches of Questionable Intent - Softcover

Buch 2 von 2: Books of Dubious Origin

McKinlay, Jenn

 
9780593819777: Witches of Questionable Intent
Softcover
ISBN 10: 0593819772 ISBN 13: 9780593819777
Verlag: Penguin Publishing Group, 2026

Inhaltsangabe

A librarian witch must use her bookish knowledge to track down a dangerous, magical tome, in this enchanting novel from New York Times bestselling author Jenn McKinlay.

Thanks to her training as a librarian and her newfound magical abilities, Zoe Ziakas thinks she has a handle on her job at the Museum of Literature safeguarding the secret collection of enchanted tomes known as the Books of Dubious Origin. But when Jasper Griffin—the colleague she’s been crushing on—reports that their most volatile acquisition, The Book of Shadows, has been stolen, Zoe’s carefully cataloged world unravels.

This isn’t just any magical text. It carries unquestionable power, twisting truth into illusion and turning allies into enemies. Once its power is unleashed, no one can trust what they see or who they are.

To track down the book, Zoe, Jasper, and the rest of the BODO team plunge into a perilous hunt that takes them from shadowy midnight markets to demon-infested streets, all while wrangling an unpredictable hellhound puppy. But when the thief begins to invoke the book’s darkest spells, Zoe faces an impossible challenge: How does she stop a curse that can rewrite reality itself?

If she can’t separate fact from fiction, the story won’t just end—it will be erased.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Jenn McKinlay is the award-winning, New York Times, USA Today, and Publishers Weekly bestselling author of several mystery and romance series. Her work has been translated into multiple languages in countries all over the world.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

1

Ziakas, you're not focusing." Olive Prendergast looked peeved. A few months ago, this would have intimidated me-fine, it still intimidated me-but I no longer wanted to hide under the nearest table.

Olive was an extremely powerful witch, her origin story a mystery as she wasn't one to share anything personal. She was tall and thin with long black hair, a face that was handsome rather than pretty, and her dark eyes were framed by arching black brows, one of which had a scar slicing through it. She always wore all black and today's outfit was a wool pantsuit over a cashmere sweater. It made her pale face seem eerie in the soft light of the main room of the Books of Dubious Origin, a collection at the Museum of Literature which was housed in a mansion on Museum Mile in New York City.

I had recently taken a job in the BODO, as we called it, after I came here looking for help when I inherited my family's grimoire. I was still new to the world of witches, mages, and magic, but I was learning.

"Sorry, I'll try again." I put my hand on the small black leather book on the table beside me. The cover was so dark it seemed to absorb light and it was locked with a silver metal band engraved with runes I couldn't decipher that latched into a hexagonal lock with a small depression in its center.

"Your grimoire can't help you now," Olive chided me. "We're calling up the magic inside of you, not casting a spell."

A feeling of irritation came from the book, and I had to squelch my smile. The Donadieu grimoire had been passed down through the maternal side of my family until it came to me, the last of the line, after the passing of-or more accurately the murder of-my mother. I hadn't wanted it or anything to do with magic when it arrived, but as I'd attempted to decipher it, I'd discovered the grimoire was not just a book but rather a sentient being that communicated its emotions quite clearly to me.

I was still engaged in trying to crack the code in which the Donadieu grimoire was written. After my initial reluctance in joining the BODO team, it hadn't taken me long to realize that this library was exactly where I belonged and not just because it gave me access to thousands of volumes to help me decipher the magical family tome.

"Again, Ziakas," Olive ordered. My first name was Zoe, but Olive only used surnames, not just for me but for all the junior staff. I sighed and straightened my back.

We were standing in the main reading room, which was made up of three stories of open shelving of every conceivable type of book since humankind had begun scratching knowledge into rocks. What made our collection different was that every item was dubious, meaning the books, papyri, tablets, or scrolls had magical properties of some sort and many we had yet to decode, like my own grimoire, while others were full of dark magic that needed to be carefully monitored.

"Was that going to be today or Thursday, Ziakas?" Olive crossed her arms over her chest.

"Today," I said, sounding a little huffy. Olive was unimpressed.

I closed my eyes and held my hands out at chest height while I concentrated on what Olive had been teaching me about calling up my magic from my core. I had been practicing for months, and while it was becoming easier to access the magical power within me, I was still struggling to control it.

I focused on the warmth I could feel in my center. The color associated with my magic was red, so I concentrated on that color and the warmth started to unfurl inside of me. Today's lesson was about calling forth weather. Olive seemed to think every beginning witch should be able to call a thunderstorm, snowstorm, or sunshine on command. I had yet to manage any of that.

The magic rush came swiftly, like a blush filling my face when I was embarrassed. This was not good. I needed to contain it. I could feel my anxiety spike, causing my heart rate to increase.

"Breathe," Olive instructed. "Remember your goal is to use the atmosphere surrounding you to craft a tiny little rain cloud over that metal trash can at your feet. Do not let it get away from you."

Her words did not reassure me. I tried to breathe and keep the rain shower small, but the force I was pulling from both inside and outside of me was big, and keeping it tiny took a lot of energy. My shoulder-length hair was whipped back from my face as a swirl of wind hit and the smell of rain filled the room. The storm was brewing. I just had to let a little bit of it out.

Between my open hands, I could feel the temperature drop. This was a good sign. I opened my eyes and watched as heavy gray clouds formed between my palms. The ping of raindrops sounded and my eyes went wide when I saw that it was raining right into the trash can per Olive's orders.

I glanced up at her with a grin. I'd been trying to accomplish this for weeks and now it was happening! Olive, being Olive, looked bored. I was determined not to take it personally and focused on making it rain harder. The rain grew in volume until it was hard to hear over the pinging in the metal can.

"All right." Olive nodded. "You can end it now."

"End it." I nodded. I would have preferred to let it rain a bit longer and glory in my small triumph but Olive looked impatient. I loosened my hold on the rain, thinking it would diminish. It did not. Instead, the thick cloud between my hands doubled in size and the rain started coming down in sheets.

"Ziakas, you don't lessen your hold on magic to manipulate it, you tighten it." Olive curled her fingers into a fist as if to demonstrate.

Flustered, I tried to lock back in on the storm, which was now tossing my hair about my face while the rain pelted down bigger than the trash can, creating a puddle on the parquet floor. I focused on the cloud, trying to draw my magic back inside of me, while releasing the atmosphere surrounding us. It felt like a taffy pull and I was confused as to which part to pull and which to push.

Olive's scarred eyebrow rose a tick and I felt a drop of sweat run down the side of my face.

After finally achieving a storm, I was going to blow it by not being able to end it. Frustration surged through me and a low ominous rumble of thunder emitted from my little storm.

"Ziakas." Olive's voice held a note of warning.

"I know," I snapped. We were in a three-story room full of rare one-of-a-kind manuscripts; letting a rainstorm loose in here would be catastrophic.

"Ewey!" Tariq Silver cried his native Nigerian exclamation for happiness as he dashed into the main room from his office. His cheerful face was animated as he cried, "Guess what?" Then his feet hit the puddle and he skidded across the floor with his arms windmilling as he fought to keep his balance.

"We're about to be flooded?" Olive said. She snapped her fingers and an umbrella appeared over her head, opening right as my storm cloud rose above her.

Miles, the head of Special Collections, peered out of his office. "What's this?"

"Ziakas managed a storm, but she's having trouble controlling it," Olive said.

"Oh, yes, that is the flip side to conjuring." Miles cupped his chin with one hand while he considered my cloud, which rumbled with another ominous thunder roll. His glasses had slid down his nose, his white hair was unkempt as usual, and he was wearing slippers with his corduroys, a plaid flannel shirt, and his favorite beige cardigan. Miles rocked the absent-minded professor vibe wholeheartedly. Born and raised in New York, he had been friends with my grandmother when she first arrived in the States from France. It was one of the many reasons I had a soft spot in my heart for him.

"Listen, I have news!" Tariq patted his chest with one hand. He was wearing a pristine white lab coat over his dress shirt and pants. How he crafted his many...

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Verlag
Penguin Publishing Group
Erscheinungsdatum
2026
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0593819772
ISBN 13 
9780593819777
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
369
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