Chapter 10 Malena #2
“Tell a good story.” Conrad stepped forward and skimmed a hand on the staircase. It gleamed, polished after centuries of hands doing precisely the same thing.
I hummed and followed Conrad through the double doors. They revealed a large room lit with gilded sconces. It boasted wall-to-wall bookshelves that spanned the two-story height of the salon. Members were interspersed in conversation.
We took a few more steps inside and the realization paged through my mind.
“Your mausoleum is a library…” I could have fallen over in delight.
“The people leave this place, but the stories stay,” Conrad explained, his lips moving up his cheek. Whatever irritation thorned at his words earlier was gone. “And they never die.”
The walls of floor-to-ceiling shelves, the ladders that would swing along them, the plush furniture at the center of the room—I could get lost here.
Everything I wanted to ask filled my lungs at once.
I took in the room, turning in a full circle. On the centermost wall—the only one without a bookshelf—was a grand painting that spanned almost the entirety of it. Blues and greens wisped around what looked like a Renaissance-era goddess.
“You’re gawking.” Two fingers pushed up against my open jaw.
“Or…” I shooed away his hand. “Am I living out my Beauty and the Beast fantasy?”
A brow jumped up. “Fantasy?”
“I meant the bookshelves.” We took a few more steps into the library.
Everyone in there was dressed pretty casually.
The gentle hum of conversation and music drifted through the room, occasionally broken with a loud laugh.
There was a fully stocked bar, dusty old bottles of wine that I could only assume cost more than a semester at Winchester, round silver trays being passed around with the smallest snacks I’d ever seen.
It was… unreal. “Although… the beast got significantly less attractive after he became a man.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” he said from a step behind me.
I straightened my cashmere cardigan that sat on top of a flowing satin tank top.
I paired it with my favorite pair of jeans, and even though I didn’t look out of place, I felt it.
A few passing glances and then a whisper or two—nothing out of the ordinary when witnessing a new person in a familiar space—was all it took to throw me back to my time with Kash’s and Sonali’s friends all over again.
That feeling of wanting to disappear into the air became stronger. The members of Scroll with names engraved next to a year. “And all of these books?”
“Journals. Every member submits their story at the end of their time at Winchester.”
Stories never die.
In these walls, between all those pages, was an entire history that nobody but members knew about. “Where’s yours?”
He pointed to the shelf where newer-looking spines sat. A quick scan of the year listed on each spine confirmed that fifteen members were added annually. Alders, 2026 was etched into one, waiting for Sabrina.
I stopped at the Hastings, 2025 spine.
I pulled it out, but he pushed it back in line with the others before I could read it. “It’s blank, but I’ll write something along the lines of drinking and traveling.”
I snapped my fingers. “And this little deal.”
A boyish smile pushed through his prickly demeanor. It sent a round of goose bumps down my body. “That’s probably worth a sentence or two.”
I cleared my throat and remembered all the other questions I had. “Do the seniors decide who gets in?”
“No, alums do. The journals show up day one of the school year. Incoming seniors send out the invitations.”
“Okay, you got me.” I scanned the opulent setting before me. “This is slightly more than just rich kids and fancy parties.”
He shrugged. “Welcome to Scroll & Ivy.”