Chapter 13 #5
Vesperin placed a hesitant hand on his back as she pressed her cheek to his coat. "Come back to me. Please?"
Lucien shook his head, pushing away from the board. He gripped Vesperin’s cheeks, forgetting Auren was there. The scythe tugged as Lucien pulled her further from him, into his chest, then pressed his lips to hers.
It did not evoke feelings of jealousy.
Auren felt peace, watching Lucien kiss her.
When Lucien pulled away, Vesperin shot Auren a sheepish look, but Auren just smiled at her, hoping she’d seen every bit of adoration that he felt within him. For her. The girl with Stars in her eyes.
Lucien briefly met his eyes, and they were filled with shadows.
"What haunts you, Lucien Quenlan?" Auren could not help but ask.
Lucien raked a hand through his hair. "Nightmares of a future I’m afraid to face." He gave them both his back, fingers skimming over desks, searching for clues.
Vesperin and Auren were tethered by the scythe. He let her lead, following her as she began to move toward the other side of the room, picking over empty notebooks and folders, stacked on dust-free desks.
They found their way back to the board, as if it were a magnet drawing them all.
Vesperin lifted the pinned papers at the bottom, the edges rustling as she searched beneath them. Auren stared at the top of her head as she crouched to do so, tracing the shape of her form.
She made a soft sound, then stood so quickly she bumped into Auren, who had bent over her, entranced. Her head bumped into his chin.
"Ow." She rubbed her skull with her free hand.
Auren barely felt it. He could not look away from her, even as shadows coiled around her shoulders, as if the light that met the darkness from the glow of the scythe had turned sentient, sticking to her. "Sorry."
"It’s fine," she said distractedly, then turned back to the papers. "There’s something here. It looks older, though. The words are worn from age."
Lucien moved closer. "Let me see."
Vesperin lifted the pinned papers, showing a yellowed page at the bottom, as if forgotten by how many other, newer pages had been stuck over top of it.
Auren held the scythe down so they could see better.
"This says a… planetary-scale atmospheric dispersal engine," she read. "What does that mean? It doesn’t—sound good."
"It does not," said Auren, bending to read. The words were scrawled with faded ink at the top of the weathered paper. A rough sketch of a building that reminded him only slightly of the one front and center on the board. This one was smaller, less clean. There was more writing at the bottom, covered by Vesperin’s thumb where she held it.
Auren gently brushed her hand away, revealing the words in their entirety.
Not words—but flowing symbols. He tapped it. "What is this language?"
If Auren had access to a million words, in a million different languages, to describe the look that passed over Lucien’s face, he did not think he would ever be able to.
"That’s Tarzian. The language—it is Tarzian.
" Shadows shifted over the stiff white collar of Lucien’s dress shirt, drawing Auren’s attention.
Lucien winced, pressing his fingertips to his temples as if in pain.
"Nova Spire." Lucien’s voice was thin, as if coming from a locked-away place inside his mind.
Vesperin’s brows were scrunched in worry. "What did you say?"
"Nova Spire. That is what it says. These are blueprints for a planetary-scale atmospheric dispersal engine—a Nova Spire. To release Nova in the air. Artificial Nova, because nothing could ever replicate the Nova of the Celestials."
"How do you know?" Vesperin’s voice wavered.
Auren remembered that journal—the one the vampiric doctor Nessen had shared with them. It had been Lucien’s journal, his findings on Tarz. And Auren realized he had no idea what the human doctor had done with it.
"Lucien, is this your handwriting?" Auren’s voice was calm.
Lucien made a pained sound, memories warring in his mind. "I think so—yes. Yes, it is. It’s mine."
Vesperin drew in a sharp breath, straightening, but not before ripping the paper from the pin, the top tearing.
She held it up shakily. "If you designed this…
" She let go of the scythe. The glow pulsed once, then faded. In the weak light from only Auren’s singular touch, she pointed to the largest drawing, holding the faded paper against it as she studied their similarities and differences. "Then who refined it?"
Footsteps echoed. Clumsy.
Auren quickly forced Vesperin behind him as he held his scythe at the ready, facing the encroaching darkness.
He heard a curse—feminine. He knew his hearing had picked up on it before Lucien or Vesperin.
"This damned thing. Why won’t it turn on!"
A shape rounded the corner, then stood there, adjusting to the darkness.
"Hello?" came that feminine voice.
Vesperin’s hands tangled in the back of Auren’s cloak. He reached behind him with one hand, tapping her hip, then Lucien’s—an order to stay. He prayed they would heed it.
Auren stepped forward. "Who are you?"
The woman gasped, backing away. She clutched a dead flashlight in her hands. Even Auren struggled to see in the little light. He pressed his scythe outward, finally seeing a hint of red hair and a—glittering dress?
"I—" she broke off, but when she spoke again, her voice was stronger. "Is Lucien Quenlan down here? I saw him come this way."
Lucien stepped up to Auren’s side, making the Soul Searcher bite back a sigh.
"Jessa?" Lucien asked.