Chapter Twelve
ELODIE
Isucked in a sharp breath as darkness consumed my vision. My fingers curled around a thick book behind me, and I was ready to strike, when
a small match snapped to life. Dark green eyes poured into my own. I jerked back, crashing against the dusty shelves.
“Boo!” Preston grinned, his eyes glassy. Maniacal.
I blew out a frustrated breath and let go of the book. “You,” I grumbled, turning my back to him.
“Don’t sound so amused.” He leaned against the shelves beside where I was searching, and raised the match, leaving a smoky taste lingering in the air as his flame brought my candle back to life.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, and I huffed.
“And why is that?”
He blew out the biting flame of the match and lifted the candle higher, casting flickering shadows above our heads.
“Because this is my territory.”
I sent him a glare, but kept searching.
“I suggest you go and look for another place to corrupt…poison.”
The corner of my eye twitched.
“What would you call yourself?” I asked, raising my eyes at him. His forehead creased.
“What?” he asked and I tipped my head, crossing my arms in front of my sweater.
“If I’m poison, what are you?”
Preston’s brows knit even more.
“Something toxic, that’s certain,” I went on. “Annoying. Pathetic even—”
“Oh.” He placed a hand over his chest, with an expression that was both bored and dramatic. “She bites,” he said. “And here I was waiting for my next slap.”
I looked away before he could see the flush creeping up my cheeks.
I felt his stare burn into the back of my head, but I ignored it.
I wasn’t here to be some silver-spooned boy’s entertainment when he was bored.
And I definitely wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of an apology. He deserved what he got.
My skin prickled as he leaned closer, his scent—blooming meadow and pine forest—suffocating. “What’re we looking for?”
I shifted away. “Don’t you have anything better to do?” I asked.
“I’m not the intruder here,” he replied. “You are. So be glad I didn’t grab you and put you out the door.”
I clenched my jaw. “You wouldn’t.”
He didn’t answer, just watched me, his arms crossed over his chest. I turned away, my fingers pausing between the two books where I remembered Tales of Thornhill had been yesterday. But there weren’t any spines titled as Tome of Fates around it.
“And since when is a library someone’s territory?” I stepped around him. “I don’t suppose you bought this room from Lilian?”
“You don’t suppose,” he repeated mockingly. “But can you be sure?”
My eyes narrowed. “If you know this place so well, I’m looking for a book.” I bit out, and he cocked his blonde head.
“Do I look like a librarian?” he asked. “I told you to leave the room, I didn’t say I would help you in any way.”
Oh, he was infuriating. “Are you threatening me?”
“If you have to ask, then probably not.”
My nostrils flared. If he thought he could intimidate me, he was wrong.
Preston towered above me, the light gleaming on his round reading glasses. “Let me be clear, poison. You stay out of my way, and I’ll do the same for you.”
I lifted my chin. Oh, he was hellbent on making me hate him.
“Will you?” I asked, surveying him. “Because since I arrived, you always only appear when I’m alone. Let me be clear, Davenport,” I mimicked him. “If I wanted something to follow me around, I would’ve bought a dog.”
A flash of surprise crossed his face before he twisted it into a sneer. He leaned dangerously close, and my skin itched in response. “Careful, poison,” he lowered his voice, flashing his sharp canines. “I can bite too.”
I held his gaze, biting my tongue.
Footsteps approached, and the library’s door flew open before I had the chance to blow the candle out. I whirled around to see Alistair standing on the threshold, his focus locked on me. Bollocks. I sucked on my teeth.
“Miss Elodie,” he sighed. “We meet again, it seems. I thought I’d warned you not to wander at night… Especially not alone.”
“I—” I frowned, glancing over my shoulder.
The spot where Preston stood only a moment ago was left cold. The candle glimmered lonely on a shelf, dangerously close to the old books. My gaze darted around the library, but there was no sign of the blonde boy ever being there.
Coward.
“Are you looking for someone, Miss?” Alistair asked, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Something,” I corrected him. “Is there a chance you know a book called Tome of Fates? I hoped I would find it here.”
Alistair scratched his chin, shaking his silver head. “Sadly no. But you might have better luck in the great library. The collection there is much wider—” The grandfather clock struck midnight, the blaring sound filling the hallways. “For now, I think it’s better if you retire, Miss Smith.”
I pressed my lips into a thin line, and shook my head.
“I’m not afraid of the dark.” But as I said it, my mum’s words echoed in my head.
Bad things lurk in the dark, bug. Never trust the darkness. Do not let it get you.
Most of the time, I wasn’t sure what she truly meant. One thing I did know—she wasn’t really afraid of the dark itself. She was afraid of something that she believed to be living within it. But whatever it was, she never told me.
Something heavy shifted in my chest as Alistair lifted one of his silver eyebrows.
“Would you like me to escort you back to your room, Miss?” His gaze was steady as he watched me.
“I’ll be fine on my own,” I answered, taking a hold of the candle Preston had left behind and sparing one last glance at the dark room.
Alistair went ahead, and even though I said I didn’t need his assistance, he somehow happened to walk the same route I did.
He stayed in front of me the whole way, and I caught him glancing back just as I passed my mum’s old room.
I took a hesitant step forward then halted, waiting until Alistair disappeared behind the next corner.
Only when I was sure I was alone did I raise my eyes to the carved door. I slipped the hairpin out of my pocket and slid it into the keyhole, my fingers closing around the icy-cold handle. I moved the pin with slow precision, only for the door to open on its own. Strange. It wasn’t even locked.
Stepping over the threshold, gloomy darkness welcomed me into the room, a musty smell splashing me in the face.
I searched for the light switch in the pale candlelight and after a soft click the room flickered to life.
From the dark wallpaper laced with golden vines, to the moth-eaten curtains drooping above the bed, I observed a piece of my mother’s childhood.
Step by step, I took it all in. From the shabby furniture with ornate silver handles and the faint remnants of boy band stickers on them, to the desk’s drawer hanging open.
It all made it seem as if time itself had frozen here.
I stepped closer to the desk and gently closed the book on top of a pile. Der Geraubte Schleier - The Stolen Veil.
Thump.
I looked up from the book, my eyes drifting toward the closed door.
Even if someone was out there, they would have no idea I was in here.
As quietly as I could, I moved toward the bed, my eyes glued to the entrance.
I sat down on the mattress, waiting for the sound to return, but it never did.
My hand halted above the bedside table. Just a look.
I pulled the drawer open, its contents clattering against each other.
I cursed under my breath, snapping my gaze to the door once more.
This was a big house. No one could hear me. Slowly, I turned my attention back to the things my mum must’ve left behind all those years ago. An empty lipstick bottle, a few broken pens, a silver hand mirror with tangled vines and flowers etched on it, and a leather-bound book.
I took the latter and shifted higher on the bed, the springs creaking beneath me.
As I opened the book, a paper fell out and landed on my lap.
A familiar black horse stared up at me from the yellowed paper, tall, strong, her head gracefully tilted.
I lifted it up, the fabric soft with age under my fingers, and turned it around.
I read the back of the photo. So Lilith was my mum’s horse? I tucked a loose dark curl behind my ear, turning a page in the book.