Romans & histoires Where To Read The Apothecary Diaries Novel

Toward him! I had never been to St. Calliope’s, but when you have the Internet, the maps and pictures do a great job at giving directions. Somehow I ended up in the school library at past nine. The halls were quiet, and the library was much larger than I had anticipated. Ancient diaries of hunters were always kept in plain sight as Mundanes do find the supernatural world boring. If only they knew. Comtesse D’Aubray. Who knew I'd find a page on her as quickly as I opened Hunter Salem's diary of the unknown.

She saw me standing in the doorway and dismissed the class immediately. "Aurora," she said. Her eyes went to the leather journal in my hands. "What's that?" I walked toward her slowly. "It's Ayda's diary," I said. "I found it hidden in the old house. In the basement." Sloane went very still. Her face lost all colour. "May I?" she asked quietly. I handed it to her. Sloane opened it carefully. Her hands were shaking slightly. She read the first page. Then the second. Her eyes moved faster and faster across the words.

TRINITY I place the two suitcases on my bed when I notice Saph is flipping pages of my floral printed diary that I wrote when I was in high school. I haven’t seen that diary since I started dating Oli. “Saph, where did you get that?” Saph is lying on her stomach, propping her elbows with her eyes fixed on my diary on her hands. When I ask her to give it to me, but she doesn’t even look at me. Instead, she continues reading and flipping pages as if she’s so hooked up reading a romance novel.

Hannah I pushed open the door to the apothecary, the little bell above tinkling against the glass as I stepped inside. The familiar scent of dried herbs and crushed botanicals filled my nostrils, somehow both soothing and making my stomach twist with anxiety. “Good morning,” the elderly man behind the counter greeted me with a warm smile. “What can I do for you today, Miss?” Clutching the small paper sack containing one of my diet pills, I approached the counter—wearing a surgical mask and some sunglasses to hide my identity.

"Every tincture, every draft, every single visit made to the lower-tier quarters in the last fortnight. Now." The head apothecary, a man who usually smelled of dried lavender and nervous sweat, scrambled to comply. We spent three grueling hours poring over the vellum sheets. I personally checked the inventory for Nightshade and Silver-dust—the counts were perfect, down to the milligram. I cross-referenced the names of every authorized healer and mid-level apprentice. Nothing.

I searched through all his properties then I froze when my eyes landed on a fancy diary. My hands skimmed over the surface and I opened it to find out that this wasn't just a diary but like a medical book with Descriptions of flowers, plants, and herbs with their disadvantages, benefits, and poisonous properties. Fascinated by my discovery, I shoved the book in my trousers and continued to search for the bracelet. I gave up since I couldn't find the bracelet and I sneaked out of his room, back to my room to go through the book. Was Pete ever a medical doctor?

It was an opportunity Athena couldn't ignore. One moonless night, shrouded in darkness, Athena crept towards the apothecary. Her agile form moved silently, every step calculated to avoid the guards' patrols. With nimble fingers, she picked the lock to the storehouse, slipping inside like a ghost. Rows of vials and jars lined the shelves, their contents illuminated by the faint glow of a single lantern.

I slowly lifted the bedsheets, careful not to make a sound, and tiptoed towards the bedroom door. I stepped out into the dimly lit hallway, before descending the steps and making my way toward the library. With a gentle push, the door squeaked softly. I fumbled my way to the shelf, my finger starting along the spines of books. I couldn't get over the addicting scent of aged paper. I had read most of the books and needed something new. I checked the bottom shelves and saw a recent black-bound diary. When I opened it, it was Xavier's.

He spoke with quiet conviction, then turned to take his leave, but not before casting a fleeting glance at Ragaleon. The Apothecarium smelled sharply of herbs and smoke, a pungent, earthy scent that clung to every corner. Shelves lined the walls, sagging slightly under the weight of glass bottles and jars, each filled with liquids of every imaginable hue—murky greys, deep ambers, and translucent greens that seemed to glow faintly in the candlelight. In the center of the room, a large cauldron simmered over a bed of smoldering charcoal, bubbles rising and bursting in the thick, dark herbal mixture. Wisps of steam curled upward, carrying the bitter aroma of roots, dried leaves, and crushed bar