Lucy #2
I gesticulate at the very vacant arch. “It’s literally not.”
He sniffs, a distinct look of tired distain on his features as he gets up and pads over to the arch.
He glances at me, I swear he insults me under his breath, then strolls right through the stone, his furry arse the last thing to disappear.
“What the fuck? There’s no Veil tear… Mortem?” But of course, there’s no response.
I run after him, desperate to get home and away from Interitus.
Now, a more sensible option, not having seen the tear myself, would have been to stick a hand through… perhaps a toe, or more generously a whole foot.
But such is the plight when one is desperate to escape, that ‘sense’ seems to vanish.
As mine did in this moment.
And so, instead of a hand or toe or foot, I flung myself, full-bodied, at the arch…
Only to end up flat on my back. The books jab into my thighs—that will bruise, no doubt. My arse and forehead are rather sore too. And I am very much still in Prima’s demonic library.
A solitary furry head appears, hovering a foot above the ground in the stone.
“What are you doing? Hurry up,” he meows.
What am I—? Is it possible to murder a dead cat? I’d rather like to.
“Like I said, Mortem, it’s not fucking working,” I drag out his name in the most petulant way I can.
His face is one of utter disbelief. I sigh, rub my forehead and crawl back to the arch, pushing my fist against the hard stone.
“You can’t see through to Ora?” he says.
“Just darkness.”
Interitus appears in the central aisle, her gaze landing on me. The weight of her stare is as heavy as Finis Tower.
I can’t breathe.
Her mismatched eyes are hypnotic.
Mortem, having hopped onto the nearest bookshelf, nudges a heavy tome off the side. It lands on my head.
I yelp, but it has the desired effect and I startle, scrambling up and edging away.
“Now what?” I growl.
“All things considered, I hazard running would be the best option.”
“Oh, you think, do you?” I roll my eyes and lurch down the closest aisle, praying to all seven devils that Interitus doesn’t catch up.
Mortem pops to life in his best ghostly apparition imitation every few feet, keeping pace with me.
“Way out, Mortem. I need… a way… out.” It comes out as a pant as I lean against the end of a set of racking.
He vanishes and then reappears a few moments later. “Door. There’s one that is notoriously unreliable down the end of the corridor.”
“Unreliable?”
“Don’t see you coming up with a better idea. Also, it’s the other side of the library.”
Demonsake. “Of course it is.”
I head for the central aisle, praying Interitus doesn’t spot me. The room is cavernous so I keep as small as I can as I sneak between the aisle and cross open space.
The door is subtle, almost blended into the wall. I grasp the handle and tug, but it doesn’t open. Using all my weight, I shunt the door.
Nothing.
“You have got to be fucking joking,” I growl.
The runes flare bright, heat trickles through my shoulders and into my chest and it hurts, searing like the kiss of concentrated sunlight through glass.
Over my shoulder, Interitus appears, her wings bristling and knocking books and antiquities off shelves.
I give the door one last shove, but it doesn’t even budge. My shoulder radiates pain and I swear my skin flares brighter.
Interitus picks up her pace. If I don’t leave now, she’s going to be too close for me to get away.
“Run,” I whisper-hiss at Mortem. He bolts and I charge after him. But I’ve left it too late, Interitus is right on our tail.
“There’s nowhere to go, Lucy,” she trills.
But go is exactly what I plan to do. I don’t care what she wants. Pushing me into the underworld and leaving me to die told me enough.
I race forward, darting through the racking and aisles, praying I can move fast enough to stay out of her sight.
One more corner, I dart around and slam straight into a hard body, stumbling and clattering to the ground.
“Shit,” I groan as the air is knocked from my lungs. All the blood in my body freezes as I push myself up.
“Interitus…”
She snarls. “All the power I need right here…” but her words aren’t spoken to me, they’re muttered more to herself than anything.
Power? What’s she talking about? There’s a gap in the aisle behind me, and I inch as fast as I can towards it.
But I miscalculate and my spine hits a wall.
She leers at me from the centre of the aisle, her wings open, grazing one of the bookcases and making it wobble. Those things are a fucking hazard. I can’t imagine Professor Verill allowing Finis’s library aisles to look like this.
She skulks closer to me. There’s nowhere else to go.
I’m trapped.
She leaps, hands out, and flies through the air. Her claws are sharp enough to glint as she lands at my feet, swoops her hand down and plunges her nails into my calf, dragging me away from the wall.
I scream as pain sears through my muscles.
This is it.
This is the end.
Even as my core heats, runes glisten like golden suns and light brims around us, burning the library gloom away, all I think is that I wish I could have seen Midnight one more time.