Chapter 12
S omething writhes in my gut, the memory of the pale hand sticking out of the apparition’s hood. A visitor of times past, driven to solitude in the library by the realization of having nothing left to live for.
Panic wells through me as I try to find some way to judge how long I’ve been here. I check my hands for wrinkles but find none. I didn’t carry a pocket watch, not that I’m even confident one would work down here. Another thought strikes me.
How long has Nolan been sick now? How far has his illness progressed in the time I’ve been away?
I jolt from the table, and my chair’s legs scrape against the floor. “Hello,” I call out. “Hello! I’m ready to leave now!”
Nothing. No sound. No light in the distance.
But why would the ghoul come to get me, when the library, its master, would want to keep me here? I turn back around, scouring through the book for any evidence of how to escape, but find none.
Just then, a light appears, so small, it could be miles away. Still, I grab at my racing heart. The ghoul heard me. It’s coming to lead me out. But my heart sinks all the same. I’m not any closer to finding the Youngest Sister than I was earlier today… or… earlier.
All I’ve managed is to waste Nolan’s precious time. All he wanted from this time was to spend it with me, and I’ve robbed him of that, and I’ve nothing to show for it.
I glance back down at the table. There’s one more book. The first book the scribe led me to.
I open it and search for the title page.
A Lost History of the Youngest Sister.
My stomach sinks. It was on the bottom of the pile because it was the first one I picked up.
I flip through it, but my hands are trembling so much, the pages are too. And though I try to read the words, they jumble up in my mind in my state of panic.
No. No, I was this close.
I could stay longer. Read the book. But who knows how much more time would pass, how much time I’ve already lost? What use will it be reading this book if Nolan is dead by the time I surface?
I could take it.
The thought crosses my mind like a seductive whisper.
It seems like a surefire way to get eaten by a serpent who’s already made it clear that it’s been a while since its last meal. But then again, hadn’t the serpent admitted that some had escaped with a book?
They’d been cursed, of course.
I glance up at the approaching light. It’s still so far away, there’s no chance the light is illuminating me. Or my movements.
What’s one more curse?
I douse the lantern on the table, then grab the book on the Youngest Sister and stuff it into my pants at the small of my back.
When the scribe arrives, its lantern practically blinding me, I say, “I’m glad you came. I noticed my lantern going out and let myself get spooked.”
The scribe says nothing.
“I’m ready to leave now. Thank you for your help,” I say.
The scribe turns its head toward the books on the table, and I hope it’s not counting or planning on returning the books to their spots anytime soon.
As we walk through the aisles, every step sounds like a thief, every heartbeat one of a crook. I watch the shelves, thinking of how that history book spoke of the library as a living entity. The lonely, jealous sort.
Will it feel an absence when its precious book leaves its walls? Will it whisper to the serpent that there is a rule-breaker in their midst?
I shove those thoughts aside, choosing to think only of Nolan, how I have to get to him before it’s too late.
Once we reach the double doors, the being in front of me hesitates. My heart jumps in my chest, sure it senses something is off. When it turns to me and opens its mouth, an icy wind comes off its breath.
“You are welcome,” it says.
I frown, heart still pounding, confused.
“You are the first to thank me.”
My mind shuffles back through the events in the library, trying to remember when I thanked this sad creature. Nothing comes to mind, but I don’t argue.
“You’ve been down here a long time, haven’t you?” I ask.
In answer, the scribe turns back to the door, its decrepit hand lingering on the handle. “It is blind, though it goes to great lengths to hide as much. It is deaf, but you would never know. It cannot feel, except to taste.”
I don’t have time to respond before the door swings open. Before me is the serpent, slithering quietly. “That was quick.”
“Is that supposed to be a taunt?” I ask.
“No. Only an observation. The library is not pleased that you’re leaving so soon.”
“Is that against the rules?”
“No, but perhaps we should consider changing them.”
I bite my lip, not wanting to waste another moment here on conversation, which I assume is exactly what the serpent wishes to do.
Something slams closed behind me, and I realize the scribe has shut itself back into the library.
I don’t have time to be sad for the lost soul now, but I will tonight.
“Take me to the surface,” I say.
By the time the earth opens up above us to reveal the sky, it’s speckled with stars. My gut twists. We arrived on the island at early morning. At the very least, an entire day has passed.
And that’s me being hopeful.
When the serpent deposits me on the ground, I search the island for my companions. The island itself is barren again, the tree having retreated back into the earth.
It’s dark, and I can hardly see. My stomach wilts, and the worst occurs to me. That it’s been a year—two, fifty—and no one is here to take me away.
“Darling.”
My heart shoots through my throat, and I spin around to find a figure running toward me in the dark.
He’s still here. I could faint from relief.
Two others are running with him, and I wait for them to come into focus, for my eyes to adjust to reveal signs of aging, but no, Nolan scoops me into his arms, drawing me several paces away from the serpent, and says, “You’ve been gone all day. We thought…”
“I’m fine,” I gasp, more thrilled than he can even imagine.
“Yes, I myself am curious as to why you sought to leave us so quickly. Most stay for much longer,” says the serpent.
My mind returns to following the scribe down the aisles—how, though it had nothing to do with the Youngest Sister, the second book it had led me to was one on the history of the library, the very book that had clued me in on the library’s trap.
My heart aches for how lonely that scribe must be, to have wanted to save me over something as minor as a thank you.
“The library tricks you into not realizing time is passing,” I explain to Nolan quickly. “It doesn’t want its visitors to leave.”
Nolan’s body tenses, and over his shoulder I glimpse Charlie’s hand return to her belt.
“Well, seems like we should be getting out of here,” says Maddox.
The rest of the group follow suit, retreating quickly but calmly, none of us daring to put our backs to the serpent.
As we withdraw, the serpent flicks its tongue into the air one last time.
It cocks its head to the side, and my heart plummets.
“Why, girl, do I taste parchment and bone in the air?”