Chapter 2 #3
Trapped between two monstrous bookcases, an uneasy feeling rushed over me. The sporadic flicker of fluorescent light from above cast eerie patterns around me, causing knots to form in my stomach.
Get hold of your imagination, Breanna.
But last night, I also followed a calling in my dream realm that didn’t end with a happily ever after. Torin had wrecked my enchanted forest, while Hayden nearly crushed every ounce of my life with a powerful embrace.
Having had enough, I was about to head back to my office when the slightest whisper of a movement caught my attention. With bated breath, I stood completely still, strung tightly like a crossbow ready for its next strike.
The butterfly-like being passed the book-laden shelves, not faltering in its path. I ran after it until all that was left in front of me was a white wall. I scanned around for my winged guide but couldn’t find it anywhere.
Did it want to lead me to this wall? What if this was a trap?
I’d come too far not to find out why I was here. This wall—there had to be more to it.
Skimming my fingers over the smooth paint from one side to the other, I touched the entire surface as far as my outstretched arms could reach. After a moment, a click reverberated through the silence, and before me appeared a concealed door seamlessly built into the wall itself.
The hidden entrance stirred up memories of underground tunnels and fortified rooms constructed within the royal manor for safety against hunters’ arrows or vampire threats. The King would never cower and hide there but said it was better to have the option.
Had my father made this option available just for me?
Ducking slightly to squeeze through the secret pathway, I stepped onto dusty wooden stairs that creaked beneath my feet.
The hidden door latched shut behind me, and darkness swallowed me. More blood rushed to my head while my mind reeled with questions.
For a moment, I relived the same feeling of falling into the abyss of the rabbit hole in my dream realm.
But I am in the physical realm, and I’m not safe.
Maybe the witch from my dream realm would show up here.
“Hello? Anyone here?”
Silence.
Good.
I stretched my arms to the sides, and the cold walls guided me to the top of the stairs. As I took the final step, a stubborn door creaked open, causing my pulse to accelerate.
Inside, high windows, crusted with years of dirt, let in enough sunlight for me to see an abandoned attic. The white paint on the ceiling’s wooden beams had peeled, and unfinished wood showed under the dirt on the floor. A bunch of boards lay next to a dried-out can of paint and abandoned brushes.
Exhaling sharply in relief, I thanked my lucky stars that no witches were lying in ambush here.
Dust tickled my nose, throwing me into a sneeze fest. I took a few slow steps, unsure if the old floor would give up on me.
Goose bumps lifted on the back of my neck as if I was getting close to something or someone supernatural, and then I saw it.
An old book lay on the grimy floor, calling me to pick it up.
Warning bells rang in my mind. Trap.
The cover could be laced with poison. The pages could contain a secret I shouldn’t learn, but I ignored these thoughts and reached for the book.
Dad would flip out over all this recklessness.
I turned it and searched for the familiar barcode our library attached to catalog books in the system. I wiped the back and front covers with my dirty hands.
A cloud of dust flew everywhere, forcing one last noisy sneeze from me before I resigned myself to silence again.
Under my fingertips, the pulse of the book lured me in. It felt magical and from the supernatural world.
This book was no ordinary forgotten book in an attic. It was no coincidence that I’d found it.
With the help of an oversized butterfly creature.
All supernatural creatures had magic in them that allowed werewolves to shift into their wolf forms and vampires to stay immortal, but those creatures couldn’t practice magic.
Magic was an ancient practice meant to manipulate the supernatural for the user’s benefit. In our realm, magic was practiced by witches, mages, sorcerers, shamans, or whatever the country or culture called them.
This book must have been enchanted by someone who could practice the art of magic.
I took a deep breath to calm my nerves but only ended up coughing some more.
Was it a witch who’d left the book here? Could it be the one who’d talked to me in my dream realm? Why would one care about a book?
I placed my hand over the rough texture of the front cover—a fading blue shade. Warmth traveled from the book to me, heating my skin where I touched it, and shifted into energy that reached for my soul.
My dizziness and heart palpitations disappeared, and my breathing eased. The book and I had connected, and I knew on a deep, instinctual level that the book and I were bound somehow.
I shut my eyes and let myself feel its magic. The book belonged to me, and there was knowledge in it that I needed.
Perhaps I would finally get answers about how it was possible to be born a human to two werewolf parents of royal descent. Armed with this knowledge, I’d persuade my dad that I was not worthy of becoming the next werewolf Queen.
It was unheard of to have a human Queen in a werewolf kingdom. It had never been done and would never be in the future.
The book was my ticket out of inheriting the throne. It had to be.
I placed both hands on the hard front and back covers to pull them apart, but they didn’t budge.
Oh, c’mon. I touched the edges of the pages, the usual orange color of rare tomes, but they couldn’t be separated. The book had no locks or straps either.
Why would someone lead me to a magic book when they wouldn’t let me open it? I clutched the book against my chest. I would take it with me and try again later.
Now, if I could steal the book without anyone questioning why an employee would take what looked like a rare, frail book out of the library, gripping the precious covers with my damp hands…
As if I’d ever be so lucky.