Chapter 2 #2
“I know why you’re in my office. Besides that, you’re checking on me as usual.
” He took a deep breath. “But I can’t do it without you, Breanna.
We can’t make any mistakes in front of Mr. Sterling, who I’m sure will try to put on more conditions before he makes another large contribution. The library needs the money.”
Steven’s pleading eyes shone with tears.
Our supervisor-subordinate relationship had morphed into a friendship in the last couple of years. This man trusted me enough to show his vulnerability; in return, I helped him as much as possible.
I didn’t have it in me to say no to him. Attendance at the fundraiser wasn’t mandatory, but I remembered how the event went last year. Steven was more than tipsy halfway through, and I had to bring him back to his office, taking over mingling with the guests and touring the library with them.
“I’ll attend, but I may leave early,” I said.
He beamed. “Will you bring a date? It’ll make the event pass by faster.”
“You know I’m not seeing anyone. But Tammy may stop by. She likes free food.”
Tammy was my best friend from college. We met at the library of the small college located outside the city limits of London, where she studied business and I studied mythology.
“And can I please ask for one last favor?” He took another sip from his bottle. “Could you please guide a small group of people? It’ll include Mr. Sterling, obviously. Wow them with your knowledge. Show them some of the rare books we recently acquired.”
“I’ll do it.” I reached into my black leather bag from college and took a small packet of two painkiller pills. “For the headache later.”
I dropped the packet on the table next to us.
“Thank you. You’re a lifesaver, Breanna.”
My smile disappearing, I swallowed the sudden dryness in my throat. Steven had no idea I was the opposite of a lifesaver.
People died because of me.
Another reason to stay away from the werewolf kingdom.
I shut his office door and headed to the next door—Steven’s old office, but since he’d given me his old job as an archivist when he took on a supervisor position, I moved in here.
The vast expanse of book-filled shelves encircled a large window, offering me a peaceful view while I worked. Over to the left was my domain—a simple wooden desk holding my trusty computer—parked next to my second workspace equipped with a clear glass top, perfect for archiving precious books.
Roaming in a place full of books, my version of literary heaven, was more than enjoyable—it felt like home.
The faint hint of a vanilla scent wafting from the pages never failed to make me smile—a familiar comfort that made my office my space.
One day, if I had a normal life, I’d save enough money to buy a bookstore.
I enjoyed my work, first as a clerk and then as an archivist. Although I labeled myself as an introvert, I liked being around people—humans—from all walks of life: the young children, struggling students, and bored senior citizens flipping through newspapers in the cozy chairs on the first floor.
Sometimes I ambled around the different floors, strolling aimlessly.
The sturdy bookshelves lining the walls stood in rows and rows like indestructible barriers of a fort.
Standing among the towering bookcases filled me with a sense of belonging I hadn’t experienced elsewhere.
Other times, I took a breather from work at the hidden reading nooks surrounded by quiet study areas with tables and chairs.
I ditched my bag on the desk and bee-lined toward the small sink that oddly reminded me of those at a doctor’s office. I washed my hands with soap and dried them with a paper towel.
The collection of books lying on my glass top had to be organized and brought to the security vault to be preserved.
I was about to touch the books when a series of hot flashes flew up and down my spine, spreading over my entire body. I squeezed my eyes shut and reopened them immediately. The waves of energy passed through me and disappeared.
What was happening to me? What if I fainted in my office, alone?
My hand trembled as I flipped a thin page of the rebound book with narrow space in the margins and lots of smudges. I drew in a deep breath and wished for a coffee.
Trying to calm down, I placed my palms on the table and stared at the bookshelf ahead of me. I wasn’t alone. My books surrounded me. They weren’t exactly living organisms, but the books breathed life and courage into me.
I had brought my favorite books on magic and witchcraft to my office. Although I had firsthand knowledge of the supernatural, the mythology books I read in college had taught me how humans perceived the supernatural over the years.
Thousands of years ago, people started treating the dead in ways that indicated a belief in the afterlife, suggesting humans believed in the supernatural, too. They had hoped for a rebirth and prepared the dead for the next life by leaving grave goods like food and ornaments.
I’d been thinking more about the supernatural world in the last several hours than in the previous five years. But it was hard not to when I woke up today after finding the access point to my dream realm for the first time.
Even just thinking about it isn’t healthy for me.
I shook my head slightly. Tiny beads of sweat broke out on my neck, and I stretched it from side to side. I rolled my shoulders, but the movements didn’t help ease the stress.
Maybe I had a panic attack, and I was hyperventilating. When I used to get stressed in college, my elderly neighbor in the apartment complex would bake cookies for me. I made a mental note to buy groceries and baking items after work.
A pull tugged at my chest, leading toward the door of my office. Not again. It felt similar to the force of the mate bond that had made me follow Torin in my dream realm.
I didn’t want to put my human life in danger again, but I could no longer ignore the unsettling feeling in my gut.
Although I was born a human, I still had the ability to feel a supernatural presence around me. Or maybe it was just my self-preservation instinct.
I need that coffee. Extra strong today.
I left my office and headed for the heavy door with a big exit sign illuminated above the doorframe.
As soon as I placed my hand on the staircase rail, my legs took me upstairs instead of descending the stairs to the library cafe on the first floor. The urgent call led me to the fifteenth floor.
Although I didn’t know what was happening to my body, I obeyed because my soul knew I was about to find something important.
My heart pounded like a jackhammer as I darted up the stairs, taking them two at a time. I pushed through the door to the top level, which was supposedly haunted by ghosts.
As someone who grew up around magic, I knew better—the ghosts occupied a spirit realm parallel to ours. Still, though, something about this level made me avoid it.
It was empty.
No abandoned rucksacks strewn about, no slouched, sleep-deprived students dozing in their chairs, no clatter from busy computer terminals.
With legs shaky from adrenaline and fear, I took a few steps onto the cold laminated floor. The utter lack of noise made the silence feel oppressive and raised goose bumps on my neck.
I shouldn’t have come here. My common sense whispered words of retreat.
Although I knew I was making a mistake, a powerful force drew me in.
I had left the supernatural world behind and had no business in it.
Yet, curiosity mixed with anxiety behind my chest, and I found myself at the threshold of that world again.
I took hesitant, small steps, and as I passed by the large window on my left, sunrays blinded me, making me squint my eyes.
I couldn’t quite make out what my eyes witnessed next, but I was confident about one thing—it wasn’t of human descent.
An oversized blue butterfly flapped its sparkly wings from inside the window. Or was it green? Either way, the beautiful wings glittered in the sunrays when the light trickled through the translucent material.
The creature’s size equaled that of both my palms side by side. As it glided closer to the window, a gasp escaped my lips when I caught a glimpse of a small head and a body with legs and arms. Had accessing my dream realm last night caused delusional side effects?
Blinking repeatedly, scrunching up my face to bring the details into focus, I stared at the small creature—it wasn’t a butterfly, but something else. The light was too blinding for me to decipher more details.
The creature flew forward and then hovered for an instant before darting ahead, beckoning me to follow. I took a few steps, and the creature flew ahead again as if it was leading me somewhere.
Rational thoughts buzzed insistently in my mind.
I shouldn’t follow it. It’s a trap of the Fates—to bring me back into my personal hell among the supernaturals.
My walk turned into a slight jog until the windows ended, and a wall of bookshelves stood before me. With my head turned to the side, I ran into a table and cursed under my breath. When I lifted my gaze, the creature had vanished.
I pinched my cheek harder than necessary, hoping to awaken from whatever nightmare this day was turning into, and winced. The pain reassured me of my existence in the human realm, but it still left me puzzling over where the mystical butterfly had come from.
Navigating between the massive shelves, I ran my fingers over the rough leather bindings. Waves of strange symptoms amplified—the dizziness, hot and cold flashes, dry throat—as I stood among the shadows of the stacks of books.
I was very close to…something supernatural.
An internal compass pulled me left, and I followed the urge to do so. Then I made a right and another right while scanning the space around me, waiting for a prankster to leap out and yell, “Boo!”