Chapter 40
CHAPTER FORTY
The Book
Max tapped his boot against the floor. “Well, I won’t say I told you so, but …”
I squirmed. I was still doing lessons with Basile, but now it was hard to ignore the mounting evidence that pointed toward him.
On the one hand, I felt a responsibility to Dani, to find out what happened to her, to get justice for her.
She needed me, like Aaron had. But on the other hand, I still needed Basile.
Every day, I got a little closer to the heart of his theory, to the heart of the world of Being.
“We have to tell Dr. Robetresse,” Max said.
“Not yet,” I said, biting my lip.
Max arched an eyebrow.
I had this under control. If I played it smart, I knew there was a way to get the book without making an enemy of Basile. “You haven’t trusted them from the beginning.”
Max arched an eyebrow. “True, but they did hire us to find out what happened to Dani and who’s responsible. And we have.”
“You said it yourself,” I protested. “They’ve been trying to sweep this thing under the rug from the start. If this is one of the books of Magic, they might want it for themselves. You know how valuable these things are.”
“So then what do you propose we do? We need the book. It’s not like we can just mosey on up to Basile and ask him for it.”
“No, we can’t. But I have an idea.”
I drafted probably thirty texts to Basile. In the end, I texted asking if we could meet up.
Cella! he responded quickly. I would love nothing more. Coffee?
Sure. Meet you at the house in a few.
When I got to the house, Basile was dressed impeccably in an airy white shirt, straight, dark jeans, and soft leather shoes. All charm, all smiles. It left a sour taste in my mouth. “Just one sec, I’ll get my keys.”
“Actually, maybe we could talk here? In your office maybe?”
He looked surprised, but recovered quickly. “Of course. Whatever you’d like.”
He walked me through the house, casting a glance at me every few seconds as if to make sure I was still there. When we reached his office, he pulled a small brass key from a key ring.
This time, there were no papers on his desk. No book. It was like another person entirely had moved into the space; this time everything was tidy and neat, discrete math and physics textbooks meticulously stacked in a pile in the corner. Even his pens were lined up in a row.
Something twisted in my stomach.
“So,” he said, slipping into the leather rolling chair across from me, a smile brimming across his lips. I noticed the armrests of the chair had been punctured, like someone had stabbed their fingers through them again and again.
Had I felt so confined in here the last time?
The walls looked much closer than I remembered. He hadn’t turned on any more of the lamps, so we were sitting in the dim light from a single bulb hanging from the ceiling.
I squirmed in my seat, trying to surreptitiously do a scan of the room. I pulled my hair up, then tugged it back down again a second later.
“There’s no need to be nervous, Cella,” he said. Was it just me, or did his fingers clench around the pocket with his key ring in it?
“Actually, I’m quite happy you decided to come over,” he said, running his thumb over his lip. “There’s still a lot of ground we need to cover.”
As my eyes ran over him, everything about him seemed too perfect. The tone of his voice, his mannerisms, his hair, clothes. All perfectly placed and considered. None of it authentic, none of it real. And yet it had all been perfectly set. The perfect trap to draw me in.
Well, two could play at that game.
I flashed him a blistering smile. “Definitely.”
He stood up, traced his finger across the table, drawing closer to me.
He put a hand on mine, and I fought the urge to flinch. “Your brother would have wanted this for you. He believed in what we’re doing here, too.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
He slapped his hands against his sides, standing up from his chair. “But I’m getting ahead of myself. You wanted coffee. Sugar?”
“Sure, but—” I shook my head. This wasn’t the first time Basile had mentioned Aaron. How did he know him? And what did he mean, he believed in what they were doing here? Had Aaron known about the Reality Paradox, too?
Basile smiled, and the light from the single bulb above his head cast eerie shadows on his face.
“All in good time,” he said, walking out of the room, keys jingling as he went.
My phone dinged, a text from Max.
How is it going? Need backup?
I shoved the phone back in my pocket. I might have imagined it, but I could’ve sworn that the corner of Basile’s mouth lifted, just a smidge, when I put it away.
He’d set the perfect trap. I knew I should be looking for the book, but another thought entered my mind.
I was so close now that my fingers shook.
So close to discovering everything I wanted.
Each time we’d spoken, I was drawn to him as though to a heady cup of wine, clinging to every intoxicating word.
And yet.
Basile dangled my brother’s ghost in front of me like a wriggling worm. Part of me couldn’t help but fall for it, but another part didn’t appreciate the manipulation. And this new revelation … was it just more of the same? Or did he actually know Aaron?
What did Aaron have to do with the Reality Paradox?
My Christmas mug pulsed in my pocket, the last gift my brother had given me. Sometimes phantom notes drifted up from it, like the ghost of Aaron’s beating heart. I held it close.
And I realized that, in my heart, I knew what Aaron would’ve wanted.
Aaron was a kind, generous soul. He cared for others over himself.
If he knew there was a way that I could help someone else, someone like Dani, he would’ve wanted me to.
I could just imagine the look of disappointment on his face if he knew I’d ignored a chance to help Dani and Luce.
And given all the strangeness lately, all my questions piling up one after another, I knew that, to uncover the truth about all of it, I needed this book.
My eyes shot toward the kitchen. I could hear Basile rooting around in the cabinets, the coffee pot boiling.
The only question was how much time did I have left?
I jumped up, my shaking hands rummaging through the drawers of his desk. I searched for hidden spots on the shelf, but where would you hide such a huge book in this tiny room? My heart pounded in my ears. At any moment, he could come back. What would he do if he saw me poking around his things?
“Did you say you wanted sugar? All we’ve got is stevia,” he called, his footsteps walking back this way.
“That’d be great,” I yelled.
Come on, come on. Where are you?
I quieted my breathing, trying to listen as I did with objects for the murmur of Magic. For one long, heart-stopping moment, there was nothing. Only silence, until a whisper.
A rush of water, the rustle of worn, bare footsteps on stone. The low chanting of priests, the breath of a flame, the steady choke of incense. And flashes of color: gold paint, a black hood, streaks of blood.
I followed the notes, thumping nearly as loud as my pulse in my ears, to a stack of books in the corner.
Nestled in the center of the stack, buried inside the false cover of a discrete mathematics textbook, was a very old, thin book, bound in vellum.
This was it. As I held it, I got the same feeling I had had with Dani, of being pulled under deep, deep water.
Basile’s footsteps drew closer. I shoved the book under my shirt.
“I just got a text from Robetresse. She wants a meeting. Some kind of break in the investigation. I’ve got to go!” I yelled.
My limbs felt like jelly. The book safely under my shirt, I slipped out of the room and made for the door.
“Cella?” Basile asked.
I took off at a run out the door. Then I was racing across campus, dirt and clay kicking up behind my feet, the air outside so hot it was suffocating. One hand on my belly, like I was holding an awkwardly shaped baby, I sent Max a text with the other.
Got it !!!!! Meet @ my room ASAP.
Back at my room, I collapsed onto the bed, breathing hard. “He’s going to know I took it.”
Max’s lips pulled to the side. “Maybe. But the excuse might have bought us some time.”
“What if he reports the theft?”
“To who? The school? He sure as hell won’t want those vultures on the council getting their hands on it.”
“Well, he’s not just going to lie down with someone stealing his book.”
“Yeah.”
His eyes locked with mine, and it was one of those moments I was glad to have a dimidium. For someone to feel the same fear, the same emotions I was struggling to put words to. “So we hurry,” he said.
“So we hurry.”