Chapter 18
Brigid
My footsteps are too loud as I wind my way through Grimstone's devious corridors. I try to step more lightly.
I need answers. I feel like I’m going crazy. I’m afraid to ask anyone about my possible connection to the Raven King, and no one can tell me what I am, or why I have shadow magic, something that was supposed to be wiped out.
A staircase shifts beneath my feet, nearly sending me tumbling. I grab the railing and wait for the steps to settle into a new configuration, as if satisfied with almost throwing me off balance.
"Thanks for that," I mutter.
I finally spot the entrance of the library and slip inside. It’s just as magnificent as I remember from Rory’s tour.
Floor to ceiling bookshelves stretch as far as I can see, filled with ancient tomes and scrolls. Dust floats in air that is heavy with the musty scent of old paper and ink.
I scan the room, but it doesn’t look like anyone else is here.
The size of the library is daunting—I’m not even sure where to start. There are no computers or online catalogues here, and there’s no Fiona to help me find what I’m looking for.
Hmm, how does one search a magical library?
I take a deep breath and start wandering through the aisles, running my fingers over the spines of books as I go. There doesn’t seem to be any particular order or system to how the books are arranged, so I just let my intuition guide me.
After what feels like hours of searching, with no luck, I come across an old book with a faded leather cover and gold lettering. The title reads “The Origins of Magic.”
I open the book and start flipping through its pages. It’s filled with illustrations and descriptions of various magical beings, from fae to werewolves to elementals and vampires.
I continue reading, hoping for more answers, but the book only provides cursory information about the gamut of supernatural beings that exist, and a run-down of their lineage dating back to what the book simply refers to as ‘Dé’.
Frustrated, I close the book and look around for anything else that might help me.
My gaze lands on the gate leading to the restricted section.
Bingo .
I glance around to make sure I'm alone, then creep towards it. I expect to be bolted or at least magicked shut, but the latch clicks open at my touch. Huh. Convenient.
Slipping inside, I navigate the dim aisles on silent feet. Can't risk getting caught in here. Pretty sure "detention" at Grimstone involves things that are way worse than writing lines or staying after class.
I scan the shelves.
There's got to be something about shadow magic in here somewhere. Or the Raven King. Or both, preferably.
I pause. What if I'm looking for something that doesn't exist? What if I'm truly alone in this, and everything related to shadow magic has been expunged, just like the Dean said shadow magic was extinct?
Vanquished .
The word slithers through my mind.
The thought makes my chest tighten. I've been an outsider my whole life, but this... this is next-level isolation.
Just as I'm about to give up, my hand brushes against something that feels different. My touch is drawn to it like a magnet to steel. I pull it from the shelf—a black book, its cover adorned with cryptic symbols that shimmer even in this low light.
I don’t know what’s in this book, but my shadows are responding to it. I feel them twirling around my fingertips, urging me on, and I open it with trembling hands.
The pages are yellowed with age and covered in intricate Celtic-looking designs that weave around faded text. But it's not the writing that gets my attention. It's a symbol, right there on the first page.
My blood runs cold. I know that symbol. I've drawn it a hundred times, my hand moving of its own accord while my mind was lost in one of those visions.
I trace the lines with my finger. It's like a key clicking into a lock inside my mind, yet all it does is unleash a flood of new questions. Who am I really? What does this all mean? Why is a symbol from my visions in a strange book in the restricted section?
I slam the book shut, my heart racing. I need to get out of here, need to process this. But as I turn to leave I notice an almost imperceptible movement. Then I see a shape at the end of the aisle.
A slithering voice whispers into the silence, drawing out each word like they’re untying a silk bow. “Who are youuuu?’
I freeze, then peer into the dimness. No one. Then the lightest of touches gently lifts the hair off of my shoulders.
“Who’s there?” I ask, my voice uneven, not daring to turn my head.
My heart is pounding like a trapped bird.
Something caresses my cheek, light as the brush of a moth’s wing, and I can’t move.
I literally can’t move . It’s like I’m rooted to the spot.
Just as I’m about to have a full-blown panic attack, I hear the snap of someone’s fingers, and an all-too familiar voice speaking words I can’t understand.
“Salieren ardalith liranthas!”
The entity behind me exhales a deep sigh. I feel its hold lift, and I can move. I turn around, knowing exactly who I’m going to see.
"Well, well. What have we here?" Callen's silky voice slides over me as he leans against a bookshelf, all casual grace and knowing smirks. "A little mouse, in the restricted area."
“Callen,” I mutter. “What are you doing here?”
“A better question is what are you doing here? Don’t you know this is how little mice can get eaten— going into places they shouldn’t? You’re lucky I showed up when I did. The Umbrilith was two seconds from making you its dinner.”
“The what? That’s what that thing was?”
“This section is off limits to students for a reason.”
I clutch the book I’m still holding tighter, willing my face into a mask of innocence. I look around, feigning confusion. “Oh, is it?” I stammer. "I was just... browsing."
"Browsing?" He quirks an eyebrow, stepping closer. "In the most forbidden part of the library?"
His proximity is unnerving. I can smell him—that crisp and airy scent that makes my knees weak. But I can't let him distract me. Not now.
I shrug, trying for casualness. "The gate was open."
Callen's laugh is deep and rich. "Oh, I bet it was." His eyes flick to the book in my hands. "Find anything interesting?"
My mind races. Tell him? Don't tell him? Those icy eyes of his seem to see right through me, but there's something else there too, and it makes me draw back.
"Nothing special," I lie. I can't risk it. Not when I don't understand what I've found myself. “I’m just trying to find out more about all of this stuff. You know, get a leg up for the Harrowing.”
Callen takes another step closer, crowding me against the bookshelf. "You know," he murmurs, "I could show you things far more fascinating than any boring old book."
I blink. God, I want to. I want to lose myself in those arms, forget about symbols and shadows and all the mysteries threatening to drown me. But I can't. Can I?
His hand brushes my cheek, and it's like a spark igniting a fire. Before I can think, he’s kissing me, skillfully. My body responds like the sex-deprived thing she is. This time it’s no illusion, it’s very, very real.
Callen groans, pressing me harder against the shelves. He tastes like mint and champagne. His tongue teases mine, and I'm lost in sensation. It's too much and not enough all at once.
But even as the heat of desire floods my body, a voice in the back of my mind screams at me to slow down.
I barely know this man. I can't trust anyone here, no matter how good they taste. And my god, does Callen taste good. Like the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth. Better than cake. And we haven’t even gotten to the good stuff.
With more willpower than I feel, I break the kiss, panting. "I... I have to go."
Disappointment flashes across Callen's face, quickly replaced by that infuriating smirk. "Running away, darling?"
"Not running," I manage. “Just preserving my mystery."
As I slip past him, my body screaming in protest at the loss of contact, I hear him laugh.