Chapter Fourteen The Nova
Chapter Fourteen
The Nova
“What are you looking for?” A voice in my ear.
I swatted, as if the shadowy beast were a mosquito.
“You’re quite rude for a lady.” A small, doll-size version of the shadow appeared on my other shoulder, using my ear to stabilize.
“Keep pestering, and I may forget what I’m looking for altogether.” I plucked and pulled different books from the shelves, returning some and swapping others.
The Treasury was barren today, as most of the population had to punch into their shifts by nine and wouldn’t get their first break until noon.
That was no time at all to indulge in personal curiosities.
So many worked so hard they did not read, not even one book within the year.
Though, not many wanted to spend their recess at the Treasury or any of the surrounding offices.
The perfect time for my personal uninterrupted browsing.
“If you just use your words, I could be of some service,” the shadow said directly into my ear, tugging on my lobe as he balanced on my shoulder.
Almost uninterrupted browsing, I should have said.
“I think it may help to find out why I am the way that I am,” I told him.
The shadow evaporated, then as I pulled a book, the glowing eyes appeared behind the shelf.
“Stubborn?” he suggested.
I shoved the book back into the shelf, and a book to my left flung itself out of place. I picked it up and went to put it back, his miniature doll-size shadow leaning like a bookend.
“Ambitious?” he prodded.
I shoved the book back into place.
“Greedy?” His voice came from above, a humanlike shadow lying across the very top of the bookshelves, his black form against the heavenly painted dome ceiling.
“Divine.” A tinge of sarcasm. “There has to be a reason I can see them.”
“The Peculiars?”
“I’m the only one, as far as I’m aware.”
He swung his feet, listening as I spoke, but offered no further input.
“People have tried the rituals before, but they never succeed. I believe it is because they can’t see the Peculiars. There must be some piece that I possess that they do not. Maybe somewhere in here is an answer as to an alternate way to get to the Otherside.”
“How special you are,” he mocked, “but sounds like the start to a great investigation. I look forward to your theories.”
“Do you know?” I glanced at him.
He lifted both of his hands, palms up.
“You do, don’t you?”
“You are just an enigma to me, as I am to you.” He slipped off the top of the bookcase, his body forming into a liquid before it collected onto the ground. The inky form sank into the sandy floor.
Between the books, nestled among the hardcovers, the pages, even among the sand, little Peculiars loitered.
They reminded me of worms, the ones that flourished in the soil.
They didn’t do much except eat. They harmed no one, and would rarely bother you unless you bothered them.
With the general population unable to see them, the chance of them pestering anyone other than me was near zero.
Even the larger ones were relatively controllable with the help of a ritual for containment.
“Why do you think you have these abilities?” the shadowy devil on my shoulder asked.
“Sheer luck,” I answered.
“Luck sure is a thing with you, isn’t it?”
“You have a lot of questions lately. I thought you were some omnipresent spirit.” I tried to shrug him from my shoulder.
“I don’t ask questions because I don’t know the answers”—he hung on to my ear again—“I ask because it’s interesting to hear your people’s theories.
Inspiring, really. You’ve filled an entire library of your questions about the world and beyond.
There is no wonder in knowing every niche of the universe.
So forgive me if I experience that wonder through you. ”
I heaved a deep sigh. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Of course I am.”
“Don’t ruin it.”
“What, pray tell, is the goal once you have these answers?”
“To revive my husband.”
I could feel the energy spike beside my face, like an electric current. He was bothered.
“Have you finally come to return some of your lends?” Maxim’s quip could be heard across the room, followed by the echo of the door.
My brother was holding a pile of books, alongside Calum.
“The gravity on that one is delicious,” the tiny beast purred as Calum smiled my way.
“More fantastical, mysterious inventions are underway, I suspect,” Calum said, popping a few books into their places and climbing one of the ladders to shelve the rest.
“Always,” Maxim muttered. “Do you need help finding anything?” he asked me.
“I don’t think you have what I need in here.” I rubbed the back of my neck as I stared up at the monstrous shelves.
Maxim snorted. “I don’t think that’s possible.”
I laughed with him, but I knew the answers weren’t going to be in any official book.
“I think this is the first time you’ll be departing with fewer books than you came in with,” he teased.
“I could help,” Calum offered. “What are you looking to build? Is this for research?”
“In a way, not necessarily for anything mechanical yet.” I shrugged.
“Is it like your pneuma-types?”
My gut twisted.
He must have sensed a change in my face. I was an easy read most times. My face was honest, even if I wasn’t.
“The one I processed for you over at the Patent Office,” he clarified, “the imaging film?”
“No, something else,” I said.
“Reception said you called for it. I’ve been keeping an eye out,” he assured me. “I know how it is to lose important things.”
“Because you forget to log the returns properly?” Maxim huffed.
“Only twice!” Calum pushed back as he came down off the ladder.
“Just let me know if you need anything”—Maxim looked at me sternly, as if he was asking something else—“anything at all.”
I offered a smile, then a nod. He was satisfied with that simple assurance.
Eleven thirty in the morning.
The wristwatch ticked along, reminding us of when the inevitable crowds would take the streets. My satchel was lighter in the absence of books, my energy returned to me with some extra bounce to my step. Could it have been our conversation the night before?
“Where to now?” the shadow asked, the small figure entangled in my hair for stability.
“Something new to you.” I stared up at the shop signs, finally reaching the one with gilded lettering.
The Lilac Everium
As I pushed past the door, a delicate chime of a brass bell rang as the hostess prepared to slip through to serve the outdoor café tables.
The small shadow’s balancing act on my shoulder turned to the steady pressure of a hand grasping my shoulder.
The shattering of glass startled me.
When I turned, the waitress hastily stumbled, not sure whether to pick up the glass from the floor or offer the rag to the dark stranger in the doorway.
“My deepest apologies.” She couldn’t maintain eye contact, the blush rising in her face as people turned to look. “I don’t know what happened, I didn’t see you there. Please allow me to compensate your patronage.”
The beast, now a striking image of a man, raised his hand to dismiss the gesture.
“Mistakes happen,” he said cheerfully, almost thrilled someone noticed him.
His eyes flicked to me, that eerie opalite stare piercing right through me.
I wouldn’t have been surprised if he could see right through my skin, my vessels, my organs themselves.
A peacocking poseur, that one.
“Please let me check your coat, sir,” the hostess insisted.
He looked at her, but his expression gave away that he hadn’t heard a word she’d said; then he looked back to me for help.
I gestured to my shoulders, his coat.
“Of course.” He shook it off and let her whisk it away. If you looked closely, the dark fabric emitted a slight haze, much like the beast himself when he appeared as a dark void.
He rolled his shoulders back, now in only his shirt and vest, with many odd accessories.
Two watch chains, double cuff links, sleeve garters.
Most notably, peeking out from the starched collar were the inky markings on his neck, and the thin star on his forehead where his third eye should have been.
Tattoos were more acceptable if they looked like they had religious meanings.
His markings were celestial enough to pass as acceptable, though the marking placement on the face was bold.
When you picked a pretty exterior, no one seemed to care about conformity, I supposed, so he would fare well.
We were placed in a corner booth, the light purple suede custom dyed to match the theme of the Everium.
The walls were covered in floor-to-ceiling mirrors, the interior flowers matching the theme in the corners and table placements.
The ceiling was painted with a dreamy scene of the four constellations’ patrons, separated by circular skylights.
Another host greeted us and was about to place an Everie deck on the table before I held my hand up, rejecting the offer.
“What is this place?” The beast stared at his surroundings like an enamored child.
Within the depths of my satchel, I fished out my own personal touch for the morning. I placed my Everie deck in front of me on the table. I split and shuffled them. The buzzing of snapping cards as I flicked them, getting a good mix before we began.
“This is an Everium,” I said, my eyes snapping up to him. “Do you know about the Everie cards?”
He gave me a blank stare, a small head shake.
“So you know the secrets of the universe, but not about a little card?”
“When the weight of the universe’s secrets are heavier than gravity itself, there’s little room for micro knowledge.”
“Perfect, then I have something to present to you.” I stacked the cards neatly, ready to pull.
“What are they?”
“Just cards,” I assured him. “They tell you things. About yourself, your future, your path,” I explained.
“You pray to cards, then?”
“No, generally we pray to stars.” I pulled a card off the top, then slid it to him.
He looked at it, hands in his lap and waiting. After a moment, he looked back at me.
I gestured to the card. “Turn it.”
He picked it up, flipping it.
An Altair in Nova.
The gilded card shimmered, even without direct light. The gold-and-silver accents were striking against the deep navy paper, stunning against the matte texture.
“Altair.” He lifted the card, inspecting the glint. The metallic reflections shimmered across his face. “Is this a constellation?” He turned it toward me, his finger tapping the star pattern above the eagle.
“Yes,” I said.
He smiled and turned it back to himself. “I like it.”
“The stars?”
“The name.”
“Do you have one?”
“I want this one,” he said. “Altair,” he repeated, like he was testing the name on his tongue.
“I suppose I can’t always call you Beast,” I teased, drawing another card.
“Tell me about this one.” He slid the card back to me. “What does it mean?”
“Well, it is the constellation of Ruina, our coldest season,” I explained, taking the card from him to reshuffle it. “The patron is the eagle with six wings, and a crown growing tight around his neck, and a third eye.”
“But why? What do they say about it?”
“A predator bird with six wings is about how fast the season could kill you. It is the season of unforgiving,” I explained. “Back before modern inventions, it was the most feared time of the year. Unpredictable, hungry, and just the air could freeze you swiftly.”
“Is it considered bad?” he asked. “Unlucky, even?”
“No, not necessarily.” I continued to shuffle the cards.
“They’re not good or bad. It’s certainly feared, though.
Those born in the Ruina months are said to be great leaders, symbolized by the crown, but to a point where, if not careful, it ruins them.
The third eye represents their insight that makes them see all sides, their ability of foresight.
Sometimes they get in trouble because they can’t always make others see it too. ”
“Do you pray to this star?”
“I do not pray to any stars.” The deck slapped against the table, finalizing my mixing.
The host brought us tea and the daily selections of bites.
I swore the beast—well, Altair—lit up at the sight.
“I thought you could try something that has a bit more flavor,” I said. “Eat.”
He picked up an almond petit four with little stars painted on the sweet. At first he just held it. Not inspecting it, but staring.
“You know they’re for eating, right?” I laughed, picking up one for myself. I held it to my lips, then slowly bit into it. Exaggerating the chew.
“I was eating,” he said, then bit the corner.
He seemed to move it around his mouth before finally swallowing.
He shivered, a couple of black shadows springing from his back, like mixed assortments of appendages.
A mantis wing, it looked like, before it disappeared.
He seemed to have a hard time maintaining his shape with all the stimuli.
“Is it good?” I asked.
He nodded, then took another from the tray before putting the whole thing in his mouth. It appeared he liked the experience of eating more than the flavor, considering I hadn’t seen him chew even once.
It was amusing to watch. It was like he had never physically eaten in his life. Considering his actual food was less tangible, that made sense with my theory.
In the meantime, I pulled another card for myself.
The next pull was Cathal, the scavenger.
Deception.
His golden eye stared at me with a ruffled muzzle, the arrow a silver glint across the card and through the mouth. Something was coming to test me . . . but I feared it might be the man in front of me.