Chapter 7 #2
“The Librarian is gone.” The feminine voice that answers him is snooty and condescending. “I’ve been employed by Parriarch Mathias—”
“Parriarch!” Hopkinson puts both hands on his hips, puffing up like an angry walrus. “He’s a vicegerent!”
The woman continues regardless, “—And Rector Carlton, to direct patrons during this time of transition.”
We can’t enter the Rotunda, it’s too packed, but between the heads of the gathered arcanists, I can see a blonde Carlton woman in her fifties facing down the magister and several other patrons with unveiled contempt.
She’s standing behind Kyrith’s desk.
Only the grand circular piece of furniture is gone too. Polished walnut and green leather have been traded in for more chrome, plastic, and glass. The dozens of tiny drawers are gone in favour of steel filing cabinets.
“Transition?” a student just inside the doorway interrupts. “None of the books are legible!”
Despite his anger, her polished mask is faultless as she replies, “The volumes on the ground and first floor are experiencing some short-term technical issues, but books in the towers are still perfectly functional.”
An older woman nearer the desk huffs impatiently. “Stop playing games, Karoline. Where is the Librarian?”
“The Librarian was a relic and, frankly, beyond ready for retirement.” Karoline’s smile doesn’t dim as she spews more bullshit. “The Parriarch and Rector are well aware of the issues faced during this unprecedented time, and are doing everything they can to smooth the process.”
“But what about my class!” Hopkinson protests.
“I’m afraid all agreements made with the previous Librarian are null and void.
” She raises one hand in a shooing motion.
“You’ll have to raise a petition with the parriarchs if you want to continue, but between you and me, I don’t see it happening.
This space is far too valuable to waste on weak liminals.
The Rector hopes to restrict this research space to adepts only in the near future. ”
“Weak?!”
“Adepts only!?”
“What are you on?”
“They can’t do that!”
“Jog on!”
“Say that to my face, you stupid slag.”
The objections rise, swelling with anger until Karoline is forced to raise her voice to be heard.
“Our new library monitors will be happy to escort any belligerents from the premises.”
Two blockheads step up to frame her, both wearing enforcer uniforms. I recognise one of them as my fecking cousin.
A hand grips Lambert’s arm when he would’ve forced his way to the desk, tugging him out of the crowd entirely. I barely catch a glimpse of a hooded figure before they’re both gone.
No.
I grip Dakari’s arm and nudge Jasper, who immediately notices and drags North after us. Together we push through the crowd in the direction my brother was taken. Lambert is tall enough that it’s not hard to follow them back to the foyer, and then right into the Transformation Tower.
The room is empty. All of the overstuffed chesterfields and cosy nooks are gone. The new setup wouldn’t look out of place in a Canary Warf office. Muted, professional, and completely soulless.
Lambert’s abductor is nowhere to be seen, until the door shuts behind us, revealing Pierce Carlton. He’s wearing a hoodie. I didn’t think he owned anything other than suits.
Dakari lets our invisibility spell drop, and a second later, I realise why. There, on the asshole’s left cheek, is an unmistakable blood-red mark. It only gets clearer as he shoves his hood back.
I release the silencing spell I was holding, but before I can say anything, Lambert swings. His metal-covered fist flies straight for the Carlton heir’s bleeding face.
“Wait! I can explain!” Pierce dodges—barely—not even drawing his grimoire.
But Lambert isn’t giving up so easily. The two of them end up in a weird dance until Pierce trips, raising both arms to cover his face.
“Cut it out, you star-spangled tosspot. I’m on your side!”
“If you hit him, you’ll break the covenant, too.” I rush to put myself between them. “By all means, kill him. But do it outside!”
Lambert’s face scrunches, but he lets Dakari drag him off and pretends I haven’t spoken. “Oh yeah, so why do you have that mark on your face?”
“Wait, he broke the covenant?” North guesses.
Pierce huffs. “Of course not. It’s fake.”
Jasper gets closer to the Carlton heir than is really necessary, pulling him up from the floor and putting them almost chest to chest as he examines his cheek. “Looks real to me.”
“It had to. Otherwise, Mathias and my mother would’ve figured it out. Look.”
Pierce reaches into his pocket, pulling free a handful of identical scraps. “I’ve been slicing into my face every few hours for days waiting for you lot to show up.”
“It’s not like we stayed away by choice,” North protests. “Kyrith chucked us out, and Mathias had the place locked down until this morning.”
“I figured that much out by myself.” Pierce watches Lambert warily, like he’s waiting for my brother to swing again, but Dakari is still holding him back.
Pierce isn’t even surprised. “Did you get her grimoire?”
The Talcott heir nods once as he releases my brother. “And your sister and Eddy.”
Pierce sighs. “I know. My mother wasn’t pleased about the breakout. Fortunately, she put it down to Anthea being cunning rather than you sneaking around. I don’t think she’s discovered anything is missing yet.”
“Where are they now?” Dakari asks.
“Down in the Vault. We’re lucky they’ve been distracted with the Arcanaeum—”
“What are you doing?” I demand, moving between them with my grimoire still out as I face down Dakari. “We can’t trust him—”
“Oh, and we can trust you?” Pierce snorts. “That’s rich, given that you handed Mathias this place on a silver platter.”
“I—” I choke off. “I thought I had it handled.”
His saccharine sweet smile makes the runeform on his cheek crease, sending a fresh bead of blood running down his jaw. “Oh yes, I forgot how well you can handle things.” His expression drops, becoming cruel. “Look around. Does this look handled to you?”
“Enough.” North cuts Pierce off. “If you’re on our side, tell us where Kyrith is.”
The Carlton heir’s face clouds over. “It’s hard to explain. We need to wait for the Arcanaeum to—”
“She’s alive?” Lambert’s jaw drops, and he starts peering into the corners of the room, like Kyrie might jump out at any moment.
Pierce grimaces. “No.”
My heart shreds, haemorrhaging so hard I can’t believe the blood isn’t spurting out of me, coating the floor.
“Yes. Sort of. I don’t know,” he continues, falteringly.
“Yes or no isnae hard,” Jasper grinds out.
“It is when it comes to her! Look, Mathias sacrificed her again, and she bled out. I watched her bleed out. But the Arcanaeum took her body to this crypt, and when I touched her, she drained me, and her wound healed…kind of.”
Magical transfer. Kyrith mentioned the bond between us allowed her to take magic from us and vice versa. A spark lights up inside me, but it’s habit to crush it before it can form.
Pierce sighs. “I think the building is doing something. I just…don’t have a clue what. It wanted you lot here, but it also hid the door to that crypt, and the Library isn’t here, like it used to be.”
“Not here?” I hate how thin my voice is.
It’s Lambert who waves a metal-covered hand at the walls. “Come on. You can feel it. There’s no…Arcanaeum. It’s lifeless. Where are the books? The carts aren’t rolling around. It’s worse than when she was resurrected.”
Pierce hums. “Mathias is using its power for himself. Keeping himself from ageing. It took a lot of magic to restore his body. Now he’s complaining there’s nothing left. The doors creak. The windows are drafty. The place is falling apart.”
“And his phylactery?” I press. “Where is it?”
“If I knew, I’d have made a plan to destroy it by now.” He sighs, drawing his hood up again. “Come on. We need to get you down to the Vault and sneak past my mother somehow—”
The door opens.
My heartbeat stutters, waiting for the moment we’re discovered by the crowd beyond.
But the foyer isn’t there. Instead, it’s a cramped stone room, and in the centre—
“Boss!” Lambert shoves past all of us, the transmutation magic on his hand finally dissipating as he spots her supine body on the dais.
“Magic, no,” Jasper groans, following quickly behind with his grimoire already out. “Lass…”
The cat curled in a ball on her stomach raises its head, disturbed by the commotion as we pile into what is unmistakably a tomb. The door slams shut behind me, and it’s only then I realise that my feet have carried me forward.
Stars above. She’s so still. So pale.
Lambert’s hands frame her face, his eyes glassy with tears as he looks at Jasper like he can heal her.
“We just have to touch her, right?” he asks, as Westley abandons Kyrith’s body and pounces onto his shoulders, where he settles like a parrot. “Then she’ll wake up and tell us how to fix this?”
Dakari shoulder checks me on his way past, already grabbing for one of her hands. “Fuck. We never planned how we could get her out of here.”
I should cross the final distance, but I’m frozen, staring at the jagged cut exposed by the deep neckline of her dress. Jasper’s fingers are already tracing the edge of it, but it’s healing before my eyes.
The process speeds up noticeably as North takes her other hand, pressing it to his lips. “Wake up, Ice Queen. You’ve got to tell us what to do to help you.”
Shite, even he sounds a little broken.
In answer, her chest rises. Falls. Rises again.
I’m not the only one hanging on her each and every breath.
Pierce shoves me forward, but there’s nowhere for me to go with her surrounded like this. I settle for her feet, brushing my fingers to and fro across the soft skin of her ankle. The Carlton heir joins us, staring down at her as he takes her other side.
Kyrith moans.
Her eyes snap open, and a breath hisses through my teeth. Her irises are no longer a deep doe brown, but a brilliant, shining, almost-white. The colour of parchment.
Then the whole room quakes.