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Chapter 47

Tyler

            “For someone who claims not to be a witch, you sure know a lot of magic.” I scoffed.

            Chuck had conjured an entire breakfast from thin air. The man hadn’t been shy about using magic around me, odd behavior for one who claimed not to be a witch.

            “I told you, not all magic requires inherent gifts. Quite a bit of it can be learned and practiced by anyone, werewolves included.” He smirked. “Here, I’ll show you.”

            He waved his hand over the table, muttering in what sounded like Latin. An old leather-bound book appeared next to the tray of fruit that sat neatly on the tablecloth. I moved closer to inspect it.  The thing was clearly a grimoire

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