One wrong step, p.28
One Wrong Step, page 28
“To wander for hours – days even – with no exit, walking in circles until someone either takes pity or…”
“Death?” I could easily guess.
“Exactly. But that’s the price for altering someone’s Ever Book.” Angelica smirked over her shoulder, gauging our surroundings too.
“But I don’t want to alter it. I just want to read it.” I argued, not liking the idea of dying over this. I wanted justice. Not a spot next to Cleo on these shelves.
“Then it’s a good job you brought some proficient witches,” Angelica hissed, stopping at a corner to look. In an instant, she lost her breath and the joyous gleam in her eyes set my teeth on edge. “There you are. Thank you, Mother Crone.”
A soft groan slithered down the stacks, turning the air in my lungs to ice.
“Is it there?” Chilton peered too.
“Yes,” she answered. “It’s beautiful.”
“What is?” I grumbled, shoving my way forward so I could look too. I wish I hadn’t.
A being of pitch sloshed on the floor, the viscous liquid moving slowly, churning under an unseeable force. It stood like a man and walked like a man but across its skin, shapes and outlines pressed forth as if trying to break free. A key, a hand, a mirror, a ring. Then it was how it walked. One step was a leg and foot, but the other stumbled forward as a hoof. The next step is plated armour. Then a peg leg. Arms changed fluidly: thick, thin, twigs and fins. With every movement, something reformed and shifted from one thing to another.
“What the bloody hell is that?” Heart racing, I took a step back, unable to take my eyes off it, while the twins pressed even closer. “I thought there wasn’t anything guarding this place?”
“Not guarding; feeding.” Angelica breathed, watching the oily monster slip onto all fours, lifting a wolfish snout before rolling again into a merman, its tail sending black spots up the wall. “The Pitch is a fate worse than death, but only after the fact.”
“That… that makes no sense.”
Suddenly, an icy hand fell on my shoulder, drawing a shriek. But it was Chilton, his milky eyes on me. “Look again and notice its arms.”
Blinking, I did, and sure enough, several ‘arms’ reached out either side, brushing against the books of the narrow corridor.
“The Library of Defeat is the sum of the academy’s failures, spanning centuries of accidental deaths, murder, plagues, and every hall as a Pitch,” Chilton whispered in my ear. “The being has no origins, no function, except to steal the inks from the Ever Books, amalgamating them into his form, bleaching the words and lines from existence. The stories and the people within vanish. When he’s done, not even a memory of them will remain.”
“It’s … erasing people? Making everyone forget them?” Horror filled my bones. To die was one thing, but to know your friends and family would forget you afterwards… my teeth snapped together. “That’s not right. You can’t just erase people because they weren’t good enough for a Great Story.”
“They can and do.” Angelica shrugged, her eyes never leaving the Pitch. “And this is just the Academy’s library. The really devastating Pitches are in the Central City Athenaeum. What I wouldn’t give to see one of them.”
Slinking forward, Angelica moved like a ghost, swiftly, silently. Too fast for me to stop her. “Hay, wait…” But Chilton held me back, his grip surprisingly painful.
“Don’t, chéri.” He warned, voice deep and threatening. “Cleo’s book will be on a shelf nearby. Fresh ink draws the Pitch. My sister and I will keep it busy. You find what you need.”
He followed Angelica without a backwards glance. Frozen, I gasped as I searched the shelves, alone in the gloom. All these books had once been students. Kids who’d come to this school and had died… My lungs gasped in panic.
“Ugh, I really, really want to go home.” I groaned, shaking my hands and bouncing on my toes, “Okay, okay, got to get out of here first.”
Stepping up, my eyes quickly scanned the spines, reading over the dusty fabric and squinting at the golden calligraphy letters. “Elon… Borée. Dakin… Teplice. Sharif Sacraria. Jesus! Why are these not alphabetical?”
Yet as I snarled my anger, a piercing scream bellowed. It was horrifying, ringing and definitely not human. Searching the stacks for the sound, I saw only the gloom, and there was no sign of the twins. “Shit.”
I scrambled to search the higher shelves, the lower, and on either side, but all the swirly names blended together. “Come on, Cleo. Where are you?”
A heavy crash thundered down the hall, followed by another. Footsteps pounded. Voices shouted. And that scream…
“Percutere terram!”
Thunder suddenly boomed. I fell against the shelves, gripping them for dear life. Books smacked my head as they fell, the air filling with sulphur. “What the shit!”
Staggering away from the bookshelf, I could hear more crashes, and the Pitch screaming like a wild, thrashing animal. I had to run. Hide. But before I could make a step, the ground shook. Shelves swayed. Books tumbled and slid.
Panting through my ringing ears, suddenly a quiet chorus of bells chimed in my ear. “Oh, what the fuck now…?”
Glancing around, golden light rained down like dull glitter, and I watched as a swirl of golden letters lit up my ankles. Buried under some fallen books, Cleopatra Almada shined. The blue binding was warm to the touch, the letters glowing, and my fingers grasped it. Swiping off the dust, I flipped through the pages, finding the text handwritten and curly. Bold chapters. Even illustrations.
I began reading the first paragraph, just as another roar slammed through the stacks, close enough I fell back. “Mother fucker!”
Blinking through the ringing in my ears, Angelica and Chilton raced towards me as the devil chased them. And it was. Twenty feet away, the Pitched writhed, twisting into maddening, sharp shapes. It released a harrowing scream I felt to the bone. Enough, I dropped Cleo’s book.
“Run!” Angelica screamed, pushing Chilton along from behind. “Why aren’t you running?”
I gaped. Glancing down, Cleo’s book had bounced five feet away. Stepping forward, the Pitch emitted another piercing scream. Spikes moulding out of its flesh. An axe swung over its shoulder, a sword from its elbow, while teeth and claws erupted from its mouth and fingers.
“Inks alive. Run!”
My heel squeaked as I bolted. Flying free of the stack, I turned right – the way we’d come in - yet a wall appeared in my path. I collided with an oof, skimming along solid marble. “What the hell!” I bellowed as Chilton and Angelica joined me. “What did you do?”
“Like all we’d tell you, princess.” Angelica danced around a pillar, guiding Chilton with a hand on his arm. “Now keep those dainty feet moving and that pretty mouth shut.”
I wanted to argue. At least snip something witty back. But with a thunderous crash, an oily sledgehammer descended, crushing a dusty table behind us. The Pitch howled, climbing over it. With our steps echoing across the marbled floor, I followed Angelica and Chilton like a dog on a lead, never straying from their side. Three right turns and we entered a new room. Down a flight of stairs and then up, we’d enter one we’d been in before. It was maddening, and suddenly I knew what it was like to be a rat in a maze.
Too soon my lungs burned, and my legs wobbled like jelly. Collapsing against a table, a stack of books fell off the end as I desperately shook my head. “We can’t… keep… running. Where’s the bloody exit?”
“Percutere terram.” Angelica threw out a hand with a huff. Lightning flew from her fingertips, striking a bookshelf. Instantly, the wall morphed, cutting off the way we’d come, but I doubted that would stop the Pitch.
Leant against the same table, Chilton breathed heavily, rubbing his brow as Angelica checked him over. “Chilton?”
“Ah- I can see the exit, but… it keeps moving.” He hissed, and I noticed the pale sheen on his brow.
“Moving?” I looked between them. “With magic?”
Chilton frowned, glaring at a far wall. “It’s like Terrakinesis, but it’s not the earth that’s moving, and it’s not the walls.” He grit his teeth, rubbing his eyes as if they hurt. “But I can’t focus in here. It’s too hard to see the path.”
Another harrowing scream battered against the walls, closer than it should have been.
“Right, right, right,” I muttered, squeezing my eyes closed as thoughts tumbled through my brain. “Moving walls, changing paths…” A light feather brushed my memories: an old boyfriend, an argument. I accused him of loving his gaming console more than me…
“What if it’s not the exit that’s moving? What if it’s us?” Both Chilton and Angelica looked at me like I’d gone mad. “There was the game I saw, and the character had to like… walk backwards to get out. If he looked where he was going, it would disappear.”
“Mother Crone, Stop trying to help!” Angelica swore. Shaking out her fingers as if trying to rid herself of cramps, sparks flew. I suspected that was all she had.
“No. No, Angie. I think… she might be on to something.” Chilton straightened against the table. “To move the earth and walls, create pillars and shelve of Ever Books; that’s three different mimicry manipulations that would require a constant power, not to mention the cooperation of a Summoner.”
“Yer…” I shrugged. “Isn’t that what I said?”
“So, what do we do?” Angelica ignored me, which wasn’t new.
Suddenly the Pitch shrieked, louder thanks to the hole it had clawed. A wolf's maw tore aside wood before a dragon’s claw snapped back.
“Hold on to me.” Chilton extended both his arms, and we each hooked our elbows together. Glancing around once, he began walking us backwards.
A black axe swung, slamming into the shelves. My breath caught in my throat.
“Keep your eyes forward.” Chilton snapped as I tried to glance over my shoulder. “If you’re right, it senses optic psionics. If we see the exit, it’ll move us.”
Forcing my head forward, we moved back, step by step, as the Pitch’s mouth snapped. “How far are we?” I asked, my voice tight.
“What makes you think I know, chéri?” Beads of sweat dribbled down Chilton’s brow, his teeth grit. “I don’t even know if this will work.”
“Brilliant.” I released a breath.
Our steps quickened as the Pitch dragged itself across the ground, switching from a pic-axe to an ice pick, then to beastly claws. My back bumped into a cold pillar, and I staggered. But Chilton tightened his grip.
“Steady.” He hissed, “Eyes front.”
My breath quickened as a roar like falling rocks belted out of the monster’s throat. The pitch morphed, dropping into a slick beast. Paws, spikes, and tentacles splayed across the dull marble, while a frantic black bird's head cawed out of its shoulder. Another step back and I fell.
It was inevitable. Horror-struck, and hyperventilating, I wasn’t prepared for stairs. My arm slipped from Chilton’s. I crashed to my ass, screaming. Suddenly, I was a stray from the herd.
The Pitch zeroed in on me. Chilton and Angelic still climbed the steps, hurrying as they helped each other. Swiping wide, the monster flung an entire table and chair aside. They shattered against some shelves, and with a bellowing roar, it leapt.
Chapter Eighteen
Flying up the stairs, I didn’t give a fuck about not looking for the exit any more. I hounded for it. Sought it like Luke did the battle station's reactor core. Charged for it like Aragorn did for the Black Gates.
Panting and screaming like it might help, I suddenly exploded out the arch and into the warm library lights. Spinning, I looked back at the shadowed hole, bracing for the Pitch to burst free too.
Seconds ticked by, then minutes, and I screamed when an unhappy throat cleared behind me.
“Miss Heart.” A stern woman looked down at me.
Tall and willowy, with her hands clasped behind her back, she’d slicked her white hair back into a bun. Dressed in a green tweed skirt and blazer, I could see ginger cat hairs collected on her lap. A frilly white blouse puffed under her neck and – yep – there were horn-rimmed glasses perched on the end of her nose too.
Madam Bella, the librarian, I presumed. “Why is it, that I find you screaming by the entrance to the Library of Defeat? A dangerous and restricted area where no students are permitted.”
Gasping heavily, chest heaving, I looked desperately left and right but found no sign of the twins. “I-ah…” I licked my lips, “I’m studying… for my exams?”
The woman clicked her tongue. “Exams don’t begin before term two, Miss Heart, and I can assure you, no answers are in the Defeated Depths.” Sniffing hard, her sharp eyes roamed the stacks, lips thinning more. “Who else are you here with? You cannot be so stupid to have attempted this alone.”
My panic subsided as I swallowed, but my anger intensified with every breath. I had nothing in my hands. The trouble I’d be in if I still had Cleo’s Ever Book was questionable, but it was still down there with that thing while the twins got out, free and clear.
“Actually, I think you’ll find I am stupid enough. Plus, you should really have a warning above the creepy arch. Health and safety, an-all that.”
But my answer didn’t amuse the woman. Sneering her upper lip, she scoffed lightly. “I see. Well. Consider this, Miss Heart. Had you turned in your colleagues, this would have been a lot less painful.” I braced, waiting for her to take my arm and add another sadistic brand. But she didn’t. Instead, she pulled out an Opus, sending something off with a few keystrokes.
“As you seem to enjoy an early morning, I’ll see you here in the library for the next three. You’ll organise the shelves, check overdue books and do whatever other mundane tasks I might think of. You will complete these volunteered hours in your own time.”
“Wha- but…”
Yet Madam Bella waved me off. “Had you named your co-conspirators, I would’ve given you only one morning, but your silence means you’ll take their punishment, too. Honour and integrity are reserved only for the Knights and Princes, Miss Heart," she said, looking down at me with displeasure. “Do not think those of the Night Court have any.”
Twisting on stiletto heels, she walked away while I slumped against a table. Three more early mornings. Three days of dragging myself out of bed, collapsing in the evening. Three more days before I could try to get Cleo’s book again, and that’s if I even wanted. Eyeing the solid wall behind me, the archway was already gone.
Witches and zombies, vampires, prissy princesses, and horn-dog princes. I didn’t belong here. I should have been filling out university applications. Finding the furthest place from home. Watching another movie triathlon with Derek, while Josie made popcorn. Puffing my frustration to the ceiling, I blinked back tears as a ping came from my pocket. Pulling my tome free, thinking it was Bee asking where I was, I frowned as purple pixels swirled across the phone. Fading, a bird skull holding a scroll popped up and an ominous feeling crept over my shoulder.
Tapping the bird, an encrypted chat opened: glyphs and runes flicking past the screen before a message and an image came into view. ‘Nicely done, Princess. Glad to see you made it out alive, otherwise picking this up would have been such a waste.’
My eyes scanned the picture. Torn edges, a limp ribbon bookmark, a stained front; but there was no missing the title, etched in golden swirls across the cover. The Life, Love and Tidings of Cleopatra Almada’. Her Ever Book.
My tome pinged again. Another message appeared from a string of runes.
‘Once you’ve paid up, you can have the book. Come to the Crypts when you're ready… if you’re ever ready. No one would blame a precious princess for backing out. We wouldn’t want you to break a nail.’
Fire swirled in my gut, and my fingers cramped around the phone. My tome pinged one last time, and I read the last line, drawing a furious scream from my lips.
‘In the meantime, have fun stacking shelves. It was an honour watching you take the fall.”
◆◆◆
I sat with a heavy huff, my upper body slumping to the breakfast table with no grace, while a pitiful groan cut across the crystal wear. After three tedious mornings of stuffy, dusty shelves, it was finally Saturday morning, and I could have slept all day. But I’d made a promise. Reaching for a steaming pancake, Bee chuckled softly.
“If you’re still tired, we can hang out another day.” She offered, eating her fruit and yoghurt.
“Im nuut trrrd.” I spoke around a mouthful, eyes closed and head in my arms. Swallowing, I sighed around the delicious, buttery taste. “And I’m excited to hang. It’s been a long week and now we’re going to do something fun, or adventurous…” Looking at Bee, I saw her squirm. “What? Bee?”
She flushed. “No, no, it's okay. I just thought…” but trailed off.
“Yes?” I sat upright. “Whatever you want to do, Bee. We’re hanging out.” Though the back of my mind whispered it could be dancing lessons.
“I-ah…” She picked up her tea, “I sometimes like to walk along the lake edge. Some of the merpeople’s shells wash up and other fun stuff you can collect and … and it’s just… peaceful. Plus, it’s a warm day…” she trailed off.
“I like it.”
She looked up, baffled. “R-really? You don’t think it's lame.”
“I’ve been meaning to work on my tan.” I smiled. “Sounds perfect.”
Bee grinned, which she continued all the way down to the lake. Tucking her pink cotton dress up between her knees, she waded through the shallows, dipping into the low waves as she dredged up shells, polished glass, or pretty stones.
We’d come to a stop along the northern edge of the lake, and lie on the dry sand, soaking up the sun in my shorts and tee. We weren’t alone in enjoying the sunshine, either. I could see kayaks going out, and other paddle boats moored at the docks. Merpeople were flipping out of the water while fairies raced over the surface. A herd of horses galloped through the sands with fluffy ballgowns on their back.
“Ooo, look, a lion’s paw!” Bee cried in elation, holding up what looked like a red clam. “Now I have a matching set.”
“Death?” I could easily guess.
“Exactly. But that’s the price for altering someone’s Ever Book.” Angelica smirked over her shoulder, gauging our surroundings too.
“But I don’t want to alter it. I just want to read it.” I argued, not liking the idea of dying over this. I wanted justice. Not a spot next to Cleo on these shelves.
“Then it’s a good job you brought some proficient witches,” Angelica hissed, stopping at a corner to look. In an instant, she lost her breath and the joyous gleam in her eyes set my teeth on edge. “There you are. Thank you, Mother Crone.”
A soft groan slithered down the stacks, turning the air in my lungs to ice.
“Is it there?” Chilton peered too.
“Yes,” she answered. “It’s beautiful.”
“What is?” I grumbled, shoving my way forward so I could look too. I wish I hadn’t.
A being of pitch sloshed on the floor, the viscous liquid moving slowly, churning under an unseeable force. It stood like a man and walked like a man but across its skin, shapes and outlines pressed forth as if trying to break free. A key, a hand, a mirror, a ring. Then it was how it walked. One step was a leg and foot, but the other stumbled forward as a hoof. The next step is plated armour. Then a peg leg. Arms changed fluidly: thick, thin, twigs and fins. With every movement, something reformed and shifted from one thing to another.
“What the bloody hell is that?” Heart racing, I took a step back, unable to take my eyes off it, while the twins pressed even closer. “I thought there wasn’t anything guarding this place?”
“Not guarding; feeding.” Angelica breathed, watching the oily monster slip onto all fours, lifting a wolfish snout before rolling again into a merman, its tail sending black spots up the wall. “The Pitch is a fate worse than death, but only after the fact.”
“That… that makes no sense.”
Suddenly, an icy hand fell on my shoulder, drawing a shriek. But it was Chilton, his milky eyes on me. “Look again and notice its arms.”
Blinking, I did, and sure enough, several ‘arms’ reached out either side, brushing against the books of the narrow corridor.
“The Library of Defeat is the sum of the academy’s failures, spanning centuries of accidental deaths, murder, plagues, and every hall as a Pitch,” Chilton whispered in my ear. “The being has no origins, no function, except to steal the inks from the Ever Books, amalgamating them into his form, bleaching the words and lines from existence. The stories and the people within vanish. When he’s done, not even a memory of them will remain.”
“It’s … erasing people? Making everyone forget them?” Horror filled my bones. To die was one thing, but to know your friends and family would forget you afterwards… my teeth snapped together. “That’s not right. You can’t just erase people because they weren’t good enough for a Great Story.”
“They can and do.” Angelica shrugged, her eyes never leaving the Pitch. “And this is just the Academy’s library. The really devastating Pitches are in the Central City Athenaeum. What I wouldn’t give to see one of them.”
Slinking forward, Angelica moved like a ghost, swiftly, silently. Too fast for me to stop her. “Hay, wait…” But Chilton held me back, his grip surprisingly painful.
“Don’t, chéri.” He warned, voice deep and threatening. “Cleo’s book will be on a shelf nearby. Fresh ink draws the Pitch. My sister and I will keep it busy. You find what you need.”
He followed Angelica without a backwards glance. Frozen, I gasped as I searched the shelves, alone in the gloom. All these books had once been students. Kids who’d come to this school and had died… My lungs gasped in panic.
“Ugh, I really, really want to go home.” I groaned, shaking my hands and bouncing on my toes, “Okay, okay, got to get out of here first.”
Stepping up, my eyes quickly scanned the spines, reading over the dusty fabric and squinting at the golden calligraphy letters. “Elon… Borée. Dakin… Teplice. Sharif Sacraria. Jesus! Why are these not alphabetical?”
Yet as I snarled my anger, a piercing scream bellowed. It was horrifying, ringing and definitely not human. Searching the stacks for the sound, I saw only the gloom, and there was no sign of the twins. “Shit.”
I scrambled to search the higher shelves, the lower, and on either side, but all the swirly names blended together. “Come on, Cleo. Where are you?”
A heavy crash thundered down the hall, followed by another. Footsteps pounded. Voices shouted. And that scream…
“Percutere terram!”
Thunder suddenly boomed. I fell against the shelves, gripping them for dear life. Books smacked my head as they fell, the air filling with sulphur. “What the shit!”
Staggering away from the bookshelf, I could hear more crashes, and the Pitch screaming like a wild, thrashing animal. I had to run. Hide. But before I could make a step, the ground shook. Shelves swayed. Books tumbled and slid.
Panting through my ringing ears, suddenly a quiet chorus of bells chimed in my ear. “Oh, what the fuck now…?”
Glancing around, golden light rained down like dull glitter, and I watched as a swirl of golden letters lit up my ankles. Buried under some fallen books, Cleopatra Almada shined. The blue binding was warm to the touch, the letters glowing, and my fingers grasped it. Swiping off the dust, I flipped through the pages, finding the text handwritten and curly. Bold chapters. Even illustrations.
I began reading the first paragraph, just as another roar slammed through the stacks, close enough I fell back. “Mother fucker!”
Blinking through the ringing in my ears, Angelica and Chilton raced towards me as the devil chased them. And it was. Twenty feet away, the Pitched writhed, twisting into maddening, sharp shapes. It released a harrowing scream I felt to the bone. Enough, I dropped Cleo’s book.
“Run!” Angelica screamed, pushing Chilton along from behind. “Why aren’t you running?”
I gaped. Glancing down, Cleo’s book had bounced five feet away. Stepping forward, the Pitch emitted another piercing scream. Spikes moulding out of its flesh. An axe swung over its shoulder, a sword from its elbow, while teeth and claws erupted from its mouth and fingers.
“Inks alive. Run!”
My heel squeaked as I bolted. Flying free of the stack, I turned right – the way we’d come in - yet a wall appeared in my path. I collided with an oof, skimming along solid marble. “What the hell!” I bellowed as Chilton and Angelica joined me. “What did you do?”
“Like all we’d tell you, princess.” Angelica danced around a pillar, guiding Chilton with a hand on his arm. “Now keep those dainty feet moving and that pretty mouth shut.”
I wanted to argue. At least snip something witty back. But with a thunderous crash, an oily sledgehammer descended, crushing a dusty table behind us. The Pitch howled, climbing over it. With our steps echoing across the marbled floor, I followed Angelica and Chilton like a dog on a lead, never straying from their side. Three right turns and we entered a new room. Down a flight of stairs and then up, we’d enter one we’d been in before. It was maddening, and suddenly I knew what it was like to be a rat in a maze.
Too soon my lungs burned, and my legs wobbled like jelly. Collapsing against a table, a stack of books fell off the end as I desperately shook my head. “We can’t… keep… running. Where’s the bloody exit?”
“Percutere terram.” Angelica threw out a hand with a huff. Lightning flew from her fingertips, striking a bookshelf. Instantly, the wall morphed, cutting off the way we’d come, but I doubted that would stop the Pitch.
Leant against the same table, Chilton breathed heavily, rubbing his brow as Angelica checked him over. “Chilton?”
“Ah- I can see the exit, but… it keeps moving.” He hissed, and I noticed the pale sheen on his brow.
“Moving?” I looked between them. “With magic?”
Chilton frowned, glaring at a far wall. “It’s like Terrakinesis, but it’s not the earth that’s moving, and it’s not the walls.” He grit his teeth, rubbing his eyes as if they hurt. “But I can’t focus in here. It’s too hard to see the path.”
Another harrowing scream battered against the walls, closer than it should have been.
“Right, right, right,” I muttered, squeezing my eyes closed as thoughts tumbled through my brain. “Moving walls, changing paths…” A light feather brushed my memories: an old boyfriend, an argument. I accused him of loving his gaming console more than me…
“What if it’s not the exit that’s moving? What if it’s us?” Both Chilton and Angelica looked at me like I’d gone mad. “There was the game I saw, and the character had to like… walk backwards to get out. If he looked where he was going, it would disappear.”
“Mother Crone, Stop trying to help!” Angelica swore. Shaking out her fingers as if trying to rid herself of cramps, sparks flew. I suspected that was all she had.
“No. No, Angie. I think… she might be on to something.” Chilton straightened against the table. “To move the earth and walls, create pillars and shelve of Ever Books; that’s three different mimicry manipulations that would require a constant power, not to mention the cooperation of a Summoner.”
“Yer…” I shrugged. “Isn’t that what I said?”
“So, what do we do?” Angelica ignored me, which wasn’t new.
Suddenly the Pitch shrieked, louder thanks to the hole it had clawed. A wolf's maw tore aside wood before a dragon’s claw snapped back.
“Hold on to me.” Chilton extended both his arms, and we each hooked our elbows together. Glancing around once, he began walking us backwards.
A black axe swung, slamming into the shelves. My breath caught in my throat.
“Keep your eyes forward.” Chilton snapped as I tried to glance over my shoulder. “If you’re right, it senses optic psionics. If we see the exit, it’ll move us.”
Forcing my head forward, we moved back, step by step, as the Pitch’s mouth snapped. “How far are we?” I asked, my voice tight.
“What makes you think I know, chéri?” Beads of sweat dribbled down Chilton’s brow, his teeth grit. “I don’t even know if this will work.”
“Brilliant.” I released a breath.
Our steps quickened as the Pitch dragged itself across the ground, switching from a pic-axe to an ice pick, then to beastly claws. My back bumped into a cold pillar, and I staggered. But Chilton tightened his grip.
“Steady.” He hissed, “Eyes front.”
My breath quickened as a roar like falling rocks belted out of the monster’s throat. The pitch morphed, dropping into a slick beast. Paws, spikes, and tentacles splayed across the dull marble, while a frantic black bird's head cawed out of its shoulder. Another step back and I fell.
It was inevitable. Horror-struck, and hyperventilating, I wasn’t prepared for stairs. My arm slipped from Chilton’s. I crashed to my ass, screaming. Suddenly, I was a stray from the herd.
The Pitch zeroed in on me. Chilton and Angelic still climbed the steps, hurrying as they helped each other. Swiping wide, the monster flung an entire table and chair aside. They shattered against some shelves, and with a bellowing roar, it leapt.
Chapter Eighteen
Flying up the stairs, I didn’t give a fuck about not looking for the exit any more. I hounded for it. Sought it like Luke did the battle station's reactor core. Charged for it like Aragorn did for the Black Gates.
Panting and screaming like it might help, I suddenly exploded out the arch and into the warm library lights. Spinning, I looked back at the shadowed hole, bracing for the Pitch to burst free too.
Seconds ticked by, then minutes, and I screamed when an unhappy throat cleared behind me.
“Miss Heart.” A stern woman looked down at me.
Tall and willowy, with her hands clasped behind her back, she’d slicked her white hair back into a bun. Dressed in a green tweed skirt and blazer, I could see ginger cat hairs collected on her lap. A frilly white blouse puffed under her neck and – yep – there were horn-rimmed glasses perched on the end of her nose too.
Madam Bella, the librarian, I presumed. “Why is it, that I find you screaming by the entrance to the Library of Defeat? A dangerous and restricted area where no students are permitted.”
Gasping heavily, chest heaving, I looked desperately left and right but found no sign of the twins. “I-ah…” I licked my lips, “I’m studying… for my exams?”
The woman clicked her tongue. “Exams don’t begin before term two, Miss Heart, and I can assure you, no answers are in the Defeated Depths.” Sniffing hard, her sharp eyes roamed the stacks, lips thinning more. “Who else are you here with? You cannot be so stupid to have attempted this alone.”
My panic subsided as I swallowed, but my anger intensified with every breath. I had nothing in my hands. The trouble I’d be in if I still had Cleo’s Ever Book was questionable, but it was still down there with that thing while the twins got out, free and clear.
“Actually, I think you’ll find I am stupid enough. Plus, you should really have a warning above the creepy arch. Health and safety, an-all that.”
But my answer didn’t amuse the woman. Sneering her upper lip, she scoffed lightly. “I see. Well. Consider this, Miss Heart. Had you turned in your colleagues, this would have been a lot less painful.” I braced, waiting for her to take my arm and add another sadistic brand. But she didn’t. Instead, she pulled out an Opus, sending something off with a few keystrokes.
“As you seem to enjoy an early morning, I’ll see you here in the library for the next three. You’ll organise the shelves, check overdue books and do whatever other mundane tasks I might think of. You will complete these volunteered hours in your own time.”
“Wha- but…”
Yet Madam Bella waved me off. “Had you named your co-conspirators, I would’ve given you only one morning, but your silence means you’ll take their punishment, too. Honour and integrity are reserved only for the Knights and Princes, Miss Heart," she said, looking down at me with displeasure. “Do not think those of the Night Court have any.”
Twisting on stiletto heels, she walked away while I slumped against a table. Three more early mornings. Three days of dragging myself out of bed, collapsing in the evening. Three more days before I could try to get Cleo’s book again, and that’s if I even wanted. Eyeing the solid wall behind me, the archway was already gone.
Witches and zombies, vampires, prissy princesses, and horn-dog princes. I didn’t belong here. I should have been filling out university applications. Finding the furthest place from home. Watching another movie triathlon with Derek, while Josie made popcorn. Puffing my frustration to the ceiling, I blinked back tears as a ping came from my pocket. Pulling my tome free, thinking it was Bee asking where I was, I frowned as purple pixels swirled across the phone. Fading, a bird skull holding a scroll popped up and an ominous feeling crept over my shoulder.
Tapping the bird, an encrypted chat opened: glyphs and runes flicking past the screen before a message and an image came into view. ‘Nicely done, Princess. Glad to see you made it out alive, otherwise picking this up would have been such a waste.’
My eyes scanned the picture. Torn edges, a limp ribbon bookmark, a stained front; but there was no missing the title, etched in golden swirls across the cover. The Life, Love and Tidings of Cleopatra Almada’. Her Ever Book.
My tome pinged again. Another message appeared from a string of runes.
‘Once you’ve paid up, you can have the book. Come to the Crypts when you're ready… if you’re ever ready. No one would blame a precious princess for backing out. We wouldn’t want you to break a nail.’
Fire swirled in my gut, and my fingers cramped around the phone. My tome pinged one last time, and I read the last line, drawing a furious scream from my lips.
‘In the meantime, have fun stacking shelves. It was an honour watching you take the fall.”
◆◆◆
I sat with a heavy huff, my upper body slumping to the breakfast table with no grace, while a pitiful groan cut across the crystal wear. After three tedious mornings of stuffy, dusty shelves, it was finally Saturday morning, and I could have slept all day. But I’d made a promise. Reaching for a steaming pancake, Bee chuckled softly.
“If you’re still tired, we can hang out another day.” She offered, eating her fruit and yoghurt.
“Im nuut trrrd.” I spoke around a mouthful, eyes closed and head in my arms. Swallowing, I sighed around the delicious, buttery taste. “And I’m excited to hang. It’s been a long week and now we’re going to do something fun, or adventurous…” Looking at Bee, I saw her squirm. “What? Bee?”
She flushed. “No, no, it's okay. I just thought…” but trailed off.
“Yes?” I sat upright. “Whatever you want to do, Bee. We’re hanging out.” Though the back of my mind whispered it could be dancing lessons.
“I-ah…” She picked up her tea, “I sometimes like to walk along the lake edge. Some of the merpeople’s shells wash up and other fun stuff you can collect and … and it’s just… peaceful. Plus, it’s a warm day…” she trailed off.
“I like it.”
She looked up, baffled. “R-really? You don’t think it's lame.”
“I’ve been meaning to work on my tan.” I smiled. “Sounds perfect.”
Bee grinned, which she continued all the way down to the lake. Tucking her pink cotton dress up between her knees, she waded through the shallows, dipping into the low waves as she dredged up shells, polished glass, or pretty stones.
We’d come to a stop along the northern edge of the lake, and lie on the dry sand, soaking up the sun in my shorts and tee. We weren’t alone in enjoying the sunshine, either. I could see kayaks going out, and other paddle boats moored at the docks. Merpeople were flipping out of the water while fairies raced over the surface. A herd of horses galloped through the sands with fluffy ballgowns on their back.
“Ooo, look, a lion’s paw!” Bee cried in elation, holding up what looked like a red clam. “Now I have a matching set.”
