Chapter Eight
Alexandr Miroslav
The keyhole, a small uninterrupted circle, was nestled within the wood of the shelves.
There were no tumblers or grooves to be discovered, just a perfect gap in the supposed door.
At the very center of that circle, however, was a faint, intricate design, a symbol that matched the pattern inside the cylinder of the key.
August had found it, connecting the location of the books to the supposed centre. And there it was.
With shaky hands, too shaky to be blamed on anything other than the nerves of what we would be stumbling into, I slipped my rightful key into the hole.
It moved in with almost unnatural ease. The design inside the cylinder seemed to align with that of the keyhole, as though two pieces of a puzzle separated for far too long, finally coming together.
There was a distinct click as I turned the key, and none of us dared breathe in, holding our breaths as though even the slightest pressure of air could change the tides in which we now felt we were drowning under.
I gritted my teeth before forcing myself to push against the wood, a weak part of me hoping nothing would come of it.
Only ten minutes remained until nine, but it didn’t matter because when I pressed, it gave.
The wood didn’t creak; it didn’t sound. It slid open, with no difficulty, to reveal a short hall leading into what looked like–
“A parlour,” Wolf breathed out. I jumped at his voice and looked back, a surprise in the long silence we’d been basked in. “I should have known… My father had one in his office.”
August didn’t seem to wait, shoving past and making his way inside as we followed, not willing to loiter where anyone else could see. Except, August didn’t move past the end of the short tunnel built of archaic stone.
My mind was busy forming balls of endless strings leading nowhere but back to each other, tangling, strangling, tightening until I couldn’t breathe.
The reality of what I was stumbling into settling in.
The small book still in my hand turned into a rolled-up crumple of papers from how tight I’d been trying and failing to ball my fist, and my teeth ached from how hard they’d been pressing against each other.
I contemplated burning it when this was over, but I knew that wouldn’t change anything. I would only be proving myself childish and rash.
I needed a plan.
One that required extensive knowledge of what anyone else I wasn’t privy to knew of me.
Wolf’s hand on my shoulder brought me back to the present, the warmth of his palm quick to seep into my cold bones. “Let’s go.”
He murmured the words, tense from August’s frozen form ahead of us.
I rolled my shoulders back, forcing down my anger like a well-fit muzzle, fastening the straps to avoid any slips. And within a moment, the sheen over my eyes fell vacant.
I shuffled closer to peer over August’s shoulder, and what I found inside were four students, three of whom I recognized.
Rain Atlas Jett.
Paris Vega.
Ajax Vesper.
The fourth was a girl with her head down, looking at her lap and fidgeting with the ends of her skirt. Her head of brown hair wasn’t styled like I was sure the others were, but instead it fell in unruly, wavy locks.
Ajax looked over us lazily, barely batting an eye at my unwonted presence, and moved his gaze to Wolf before motioning to Rain with a subtle tilt of his head, rotating his pointer finger next to his head.
The girl in question was ignorant of the gesture, looking over the three of us with a heavily tedious once-over before landing on me.
Her eyes narrowed the slightest bit, and I was glad of the small tell. My head, in turn, lifted with the cold eyes that were always there, lying in wait.
Jett was someone to look out for, but I wasn’t worried enough to be wary.
Not until she proved herself a capable threat.
“Hey… everyone.” August’s voice was meek, gone with the excitement and back to the bullied scholarship student.
Though, it didn’t last long. My eyes followed the movement at his side as he pressed his hands behind his back and pinched the skin of his wrist as though attempting to draw blood.
There and gone.
“So, this is everyone, huh?” He walked further into the room, opting for the leather sofa with only Ajax sitting on the other end as company. Perhaps it was spite or arrogance, but August opted to sit right next to Ajax, despite the open space.
I almost laughed, had the tension in the air not have smothered it if I tried.
The room was similar to the rest of the library.
The walls were deep brown, dark wood glossed over with a varnish finish, with book-filled shelves covering the walls, save for the painting hanging over the fireplace.
One of dark grey clouds, a black moon, and barren lands.
The empty and cracked trees painted with thoughtful detail over the glow of the fireplace below, giving the illusion of swaying branches.
Rain, Paris, and the nameless girl sat facing the fireplace at the far end of the room while Ajax, and now August, faced the short path we’d just entered from.
I didn’t take long to decide on my own seating arrangements, lest they think me someone like August. The utter horror.
I shielded my mind and sharpened my tongue, preparing for the verbal war that might come, if only by chance. I left Wolf to gather his own bearings before situating myself in the wide space Paris had, perhaps unconsciously, left between herself and Rain.
Wolf, upon my movement, seemed to have stepped back into the present and moved to the open seat next to August.
Rain didn’t spare me a glance, but I could feel Paris’s eyes against the side of my head in the silent room. It took a few seconds, and a lack of reaction, for Paris to avert her attention elsewhere. Only then did I begin to truly take into account the people around me.
I turned and looked over Paris, to the quiet girl sitting with her head bowed as though in fear.
She continued to fidget and didn’t seem to be taking in her own surroundings.
Or–based on her reaction–perhaps she already had and realized that a head bowed down would be better than a head chopped off.
August may have his moments of shame, but his big mouth made up for it in times he felt were of need. Everyone in this room, to some degree, can look the other in the eye without a gut-wrenching buzz eating away at their self-assurance.
This girl seemed as though she would prefer to cave into her own body than push someone over to make proper room for herself.
Paris picked up on where I had my eyes and, upon a slight nod of my head towards the girl to her side, she shrugged before mouthing, “She’s odd.”
Well, I could deduce that on my own.
Wolf, with his continued fixation on every slight movement I made, picked up on my curiosity and strapped on a soft smile. “Marigold, how are you?”
At his voice, I could feel Rain tense and Ajax taking notice before smirking her way.
I studied him subtly; he looked satisfied with her reaction, as though he were praying for the great student body president to… break.
The girl–Marigold–looked like she’d rather be anywhere but here, which was ironic considering I could have sworn we’d all come here out of our own free will.
Rather hypocritical of me, but I never said I had the reputation of a saint.
She lifted her head, looking at Wolf with wide eyes, as though looking into the horizon as an army approached right from over it. “I…” It was then that she caught the stares of the entirety of the room. All eyes were on her as she finally squeaked out, “I’m good.”
Wolf leaned forward, throwing his arm over the armrest. “That’s good to hear. Classes going okay?”
“Y-yeah, they’re going good.” Her pointer finger continued to twist into her skirt. A force of habit, I’d guess. I bet she didn’t even realize she was doing it.
As she answered, Paris ran a hand through her shiny blond hair before catching my eye. She pulled her lips back in a brief tooth-barring grimace, widening her eyes momentarily as though to say: geez.
Again, I wanted to laugh, and again, it really wasn’t the moment. But a flicker of amusement in my eyes, there and gone, slipped out.
Paris grinned.
Wolf must have asked Marigold something else because only when she was beginning to answer did Ajax interrupt her, “Hey Wolf, you three didn’t work on those clues together, did you? I didn’t think we’d be allowed teams.”
The boy in question paused and turned to meet Ajax’s gaze with a slow sweep of his eyes. “She was speaking.”
Ajax shrugged. “And now, I am. Why don’t you answer my question?”
Marigold seemed to push further into herself.
Nobody minded too much; she was entirely dull.
I narrowed my eyes at the edge underlying Ajax’s words.
I’d taken the impression that Wolf and Ajax were at least slightly less hostile towards each other than with the rest of our peers at Castle Hill.
It was silent for a beat, and it wasn’t until Paris’ elbow nudged into my ribs, entertained by the show, that Wolf replied, “There wasn’t a rule book, was there?”
It was a rhetorical question, but the bigger boy didn’t seem to care. “I think the point of this whole thing was to test our individual capabili–”
Wolf interrupted him, maybe a coincidence, but it had the desired effect on a now offended Ajax. Though, he hid it well. “When you show me the written or verbally stated bylaws of this little exercise, I’ll consider your argument.”
August let out a high-pitched squeak that I could tell was a horribly concealed laugh.
Paris didn’t have the same reservations as she let out a chuckle, showcasing her perfectly white teeth with a shake of her head. “Ah, poor Ajax.”
The boy in question only grinned, all sharp. “Of course you’d find such mundane conversations funny. Remind me, Paris, who was caught with a kilo of crack cocaine in her bag last year? Drugs do have a long-lasting effect on the brain, it seems.”