Chapter 56
Fifty-Six
Galileo
“This feels like a séance,” Lambert comments from the seat to my right, as we crowd around the kitchen island.
I get what he means. The counter is covered in Pierce’s notes and multiple reference books. The lights are low, and there’s one of Eddy’s scented candles between us. The flame flickers merrily in the jar, filling the room with what it claims is the scent of apple pie.
Mostly, it reeks of artificial cinnamon, the scent smothering the normally soothing aroma of books that wafts from every room in the Library.
“It’s not.” Pierce’s grimoire is out, page already open on a runeform I refuse to study too carefully.
“We’re not summoning anyone back. We’re trying to determine how much power is left in the Arcanaeum.
I need all six of our bonds to get an accurate reading.
But before I do this, you need to know—”
“This is a waste of time,” North grumbles. “Get on with it.”
He’s been a miserable fecking bastard since Kyrie disappeared, and he’s only getting worse.
Pierce rolls his eyes. “Everyone touch the candle, unless you want to go hide upstairs and pretend we’re using legal magic.”
Shite. Well, in for a penny…I guess.
Lambert is already doing it, practically humming with excitement at the idea of doing something that might get our Librarian back.
I’m not far behind.
Feck. It’s been the worst two weeks of my life. Today was the last day of repairs. There’s not a single brick out of place.
And still nothing.
With every single spell I cast, I hoped, prayed, begged for her to reappear. Every time I pass her desk, I find myself compulsively checking—waiting.
Nothing.
Now it’s all fixed. The Arcanaeum is as perfect as it was the day I first entered.
Still no Kyrie.
She can’t be gone. I won’t accept it. North won’t either, for all that he’s acting like a grumpy shite.
I don’t even realise Pierce has started chanting until something slimy crawls up my spine. Makes sense. The Arcanaeum was built from dark magic, so checking on it requires the same.
Could we not have done this with divination or restoration instead?
Maybe, but I’m not about to waste time insisting they all wait for me to come up with something. Necromancy is the least I’d do to get our Librarian back.
Between us, the candle flickers wildly. Pierce’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t stop chanting.
Then the flame starts to die, becoming smaller and smaller…
But it doesn’t go out.
The chant ends, and Pierce draws his hand back from the candle with a sigh. The flame returns to cheerful brightness.
“What?” Lambert presses.
“Not good, right?” Jasper says. “When you were casting, I could almost feel how low on power the Arcanaeum is.”
Not surprising. Necromancy and restoration are two sides of the same coin, after all.
“We fixed it for nothing.” North slips from his stool and marches towards the stairs.
“Sit your arse down,” I growl at him. “Pierce. Explain.”
“The Arcanaeum is a massive repository of magic.” The Carlton heir rubs the back of his neck with a sigh. “The flame was a measure of how much power it currently holds. At full strength, it should’ve gotten brighter. We’ve done a lot, but it’s still too low.”
“It lost all of its magic transferring its magical well to Kyrith,” Dakari notes.
“Aye.” Jasper strokes his beard, which has grown longer since she left. “We’re powerful, but it took days of us feeding her our magic to bring her around when we broke her out.”
Even then, she wasn’t at full power, just conscious. Did she ever manage to fully recharge her magical well while she and the building were separated? Or did she simply function on a fraction of her potential because it was enough?
Pierce nods. “Eventually, I guess the Arcanaeum might be able to regenerate its magic like we would, but it would take years, if not decades, to reach the critical mass she talked about.”
“So we need to recharge it.” I stand. “I assume you’re not suggesting the traditional method.”
I want Kyrith back, but she’d skin the lot of us if we started sacrificing liminals.
“No.” Pierce swallows. “But you’re thinking along the right lines. The risk is…if we do it and Kyrith is already lost, we’ll have bonded ourselves deeper to the building for nothing.”
All of us fall into silence. Personally, I’ll let them sacrifice me the old-fashioned way if it will let me be with her.
Fuck leaving the Library. I’ve spent a lifetime refusing to care about anything beyond these walls anyway.
Can I say the same for Lambert, who’d have to give up magiball?
Or Jasper, who has a family? Or North, who’d have to watch his sister come and go until she aged and died?
“Boss,” Lambert starts, looking at the ceiling like we all used to when we thought she and the Library were the same. “We could really do with a sign, or a note, or something? If you’re still there?”
“She has no power,” I remind him. “There’s no way for—”
The candle in the middle of the table goes out.
My heart jumps in my chest. Please. Please, sweet merciful stars, let that be her.
“Could’ve been the wind,” North begins slowly.
I get it. He’s scared to hope. So am I. But I’m more terrified of a life without Kyrith. “We’re inside, eejit.”
“Coincidence, then.”
One of Pierce’s notebooks flies up and smacks North in the face, then drops heavily to the countertop.
Stars. My lungs burn as I struggle to remember how to breathe.
She’s still here. There’s still a chance.
Jasper bursts out laughing, the sound bright with relief and more than a little grief. “Your coincidence just hit you in the face, asshole.”
“Boss,” Lambert breathes the word, eyes shining.
I’m pretty sure all of us are blinking back tears at this point. Even Dakari is misty eyed as he scans the room, searching for her.
Our girl is alive—in a manner of speaking.
But there are no other signs. No messages.
Shite. Did she exhaust herself doing that? If her life force is connected to the Arcanaeum, and she uses up what little magic it has, will it kill her?
She can’t take that chance.
“Don’t push yourself, Kyrie,” I mutter. “We’ve got this.”
She’s saved our arses so many times. Now it’s our turn.