Chapter 11

Eleven

Northcliff

I drive my foot into the sofa again, roaring with frustration.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuuccckk !”

That couldn’t have gone worse.

“My sentiments exactly.” Galileo picks himself up from the doorstep and glares at me. “Congratulations on single-handedly fecking up my life, you stupid son of a bitch.”

His anger is making his Belfast accent stronger, and on a better day, I might take the piss out of him for it. But I’m not in the mood to laugh.

“We really hurt her.” Lambert is on his ass still, hugging his spread knees with his eyes glued to the floor as if the ugly fleur-de-lis carpet is the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.

“Hurt her?” I demand, rubbing a bruise on my own tailbone. “By taking a book?”

A book she doesn’t even have.

Fuck.

“She might change her mind.” Lambert is looking at Leo with pure, unfiltered pity in his expression. “She gets rid of my strikes every day. I wake up, and my library card just poofs in front of my face, clean as a whistle.”

I won’t hold my breath.

She’s hated me from the second she let me into her fucking library. Lambert is all smiley and sunshine and forgivable, but I’ve just lost my one ticket to getting Eddy the help she needs. Josef won’t do anything without that book, and despite what the Librarian says, it has to be in that fucking building.

According to Mathias Ackland’s notes, the grimoire of every single arcanist is summoned to that Vault when they die. It’s a powerful blood enchantment linked to the founding of the building by the six original families.

It has to be there.

I kick the couch again, though the thing is so solid all I really achieve is more bone-jarring pain to my foot.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this.

“I’m going home.” Galileo picks himself up and settles a glare at us both. “The next time either of you eejits comes up with a plan, leave me out of it. Did you even use any concealment spells?”

No. Because I don’t know any. Because Josef fucking chucked me into this mess like a lamb to slaughter. You’d think, given how excited he was to get me into the Arcanaeum, he would’ve been more cautious about getting me thrown out.

But, no. For whatever reason, he thinks the matter is urgent.

What’s so special about the damned library, anyway? The moody ass ghost? I’ve met nicer librarians. Sure, she’s hot in a ren-faire kind of way, but it doesn’t counteract the fact that she’s a fucking psycho.

Leo reads my answer from my blank expression and scowls. He looks one step away from decking me, an unexpectedly violent response from a man who—until now—has never shown anything beyond quiet, studious reserve.

Turning without another word, he shoves open my front door and leaves, slamming it shut behind him.

I fall to the abused sofa on a groan, and Lambert crawls over to sit beside me.

Fuck, I’m going to be stiff tomorrow. Every piece of furniture I crashed into is going to leave a bruise. Not the worst I’ve had since Josef entered my life, but still.

The blond sits in silence for a second, but it doesn’t last long. Lambert hates silence. “Maybe it’s not that bad.”

My jaw falls open, and I pin him with a look. “Not that bad? How the fuck is this anything other than bad?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. It just sounded like something that would make you feel better. But I’m sure we can make it feel less awful if we grab the beer from your fridge and have a movie night. Misery loves company, right?”

I open my mouth to tell him to fuck off, but the words don’t come.

Do I really want to make him leave? To be alone with nothing to do but think about how I’m going to tell Josef that I can’t deliver what he wants? Or how to tell Eddy that I’ve failed her.

“Fine. But I want to pick the first movie,” I grudgingly agree, snatching the remote from the table. “And we’ll probably need more beer.”

“North, wake up. Look, dude.”

The stink of warm beer is the first thing I notice as Lambert drags me into a sitting position. My mouth is as dry as the desert, and my eyelids are crusty, making my vision blurry as I blink at him.

His calloused fingers turn my head ninety degrees until I see the two pieces of paper hovering in front of us.

That damned library card, I realise with a grimace. What now? She can’t ban us again, right?

Only, as I watch, the red cross that’s scorched across the paper rescinds, shrinking back to the middle as the room fills with a distinctly floral scent.

Frost kissed lilies, just like the ice queen herself.

“No way,” Lambert crows. “I knew she’d forgive us, but this quickly? Oh, I’m going to find her a new book, just to make it up to her.”

The idiot is actually looking at my shelves, likely considering taking one.

I look around at the messy living room with a groan.

What does this mean? I can understand Kyrith forgiving Lambert—the man doesn’t have a malicious bone in his body—but me? She hates me. Probably because she hates Josef.

“Do you think she was telling the truth?” I ask, breaking off Lambert’s sticky-fingered perusal of the hardbacks with a frown. “About Josef being a necromancer?”

Lambert freezes, eyes flashing away guiltily. His body language screams reticence, and something low in my stomach roils in response.

“Lambert.” My tone turns cautionary. “What is it?”

“It’s just…there are rumours about your family—the Acklands, I mean.” He corrects himself, knowing I don’t consider any of those stuck-up assholes my family. “They’ve always been said to dabble, and my father used to say that they played up the rumours to counter the shame of not being readmitted to the Arcanaeum.”

“Why bother? It’s not that big of a deal.”

Lambert shakes his head. “You don’t get it. Ackland hasn’t been inside that building in half a millennia, and they were one sixth of the reason it was created in the first place. It made them look weak. Everyone mocked them. You… You’re the reason that Josef just got invited to my aunt’s Christmas soiree. She thinks the tide is turning. I’m pretty sure I overheard her talking about the possibility of ‘re-aligning the houses of Ackland and Winthrop’ when I last saw her.”

My stomach sinks.

So my banishment wouldn’t just doom Eddy. It would doom me as well. If this happens again—permanently next time—Josef will crucify the both of us to appease his hurt pride. His demand, that I become one of the best students the university has ever seen, takes on new meaning. I’m not just a convenient thief, I’m a fucking trophy.

I am so out of my depth.

Which means… I have to go back into that stupid library, get on my knees, and beg Kyrith’s forgiveness.

Lambert is already halfway to the door, buckling that stupid book-holster at his waist with practised, easy moves that I envy.

Who on earth decided that strapping a book to a belt was a good idea, anyway? It looks absolutely ridiculous.

“You should get changed.” He waves a hand at me. “I’ll smooth it over with her. She’s given us a chance, so try to come up with a decent apology while you shower. You stink.” He says the last with a sympathetic look that somehow fails to acknowledge that he drank almost as much as I did last night.

Then again, he looks…flawless. Even his hoodie is different, and he didn’t steal mine.

“Transmutation expert, remember.” He flashes a grin at my confused look. “I mastered crafting breath freshening scraps after my fifth one-night-stand.” Then, with a huge smile on his face, he knocks on my front door. “ Ad Arcanaeum !”

He says it the exact same way someone else might say, ‘honey, I’m home,’ and I want to gag. Does anything ever dim his perpetual sunshine?

Half an hour later, when he hasn’t reappeared, I take a deep breath, shove the sleeves of my plaid button up to my elbows, and follow him back into the library.

She admits me back through the front door, perhaps to remind me of how she kicked me out of it last night. The light in the usually bright foyer is murky and grey, and the words beneath my feet glimmer like tears as I step over them.

It’s cold. Colder than I remember it being, and the stupid Halloween decorations that were up last night have been ripped down, destroying the whimsical atmosphere I scoffed at before. Even the plants in the Botanical Hall seem hostile.

Like the building itself has become eerily…angry.

There’s a small crowd of people at the desk as I approach. The Arcanaeum is rarely so busy, but the hushed murmur and agitated gestures coming from the group makes it clear that this isn’t a happy queue patiently waiting for assistance.

Thanks to my height, I can easily see the little wrought iron stand atop the desk and the clean, crisp sign hanging from it.

“Unavailable?” I hiss, confused, just as a hand hooks my elbow and drags me right, through the doors of the Rotunda and onto a staircase.

“You’re here, finally,” Lambert whispers. “Come on. I have a plan.”

He leaves the staircase one floor up, then drags us across the Gallery and up a different set of stairs that doesn’t seem to end.

We’re headed back to the astrology room, I realise grimly. At this rate, if we keep going up there, I won't need to bother with leg day. Isn't there a magical elevator or a spell for flight or something?

“Where is she?” I frown. “Is she taking a day off or something?”

Lambert scoffs. “Kyrith hasn’t had a day off in the entire history of the Arcanaeum.”

“So she’s just sulking.”

A book—a fucking massive tome, more like—flies off the shelf and smacks me about the head so hard that I stumble forward, only staying upright because of Lambert’s firm grip on my arm. I have to hold up my hands to defend myself as it comes around for another pass.

“Fuck! Jesus! Cut it out!” I snap, cradling my stinging ear. “If you need a mental health day fucking take one.”

There’s a confused pause where the book just hovers there, as if the Librarian is struggling to figure out what that even means, before it drops back to the top of a nearby pile with a dull thud.

That ostentatious, starlit sky greets us as we finally reach the top of the stairs, and I grimace as I catch sight of a familiar figure in an armchair.

So instead of an angry Kyrith, it appears I get to face a furious Galileo.

The heir of house ó Rinn is cradling the book in his lap with long, reverent fingers, looking a little lost as he stares down at the pages. His pupils aren’t moving, so I don’t think he’s actually reading whatever’s written there, and at our arrival, he snaps it closed.

“I have nothing further to say to either of you.”

“Layyyoooo.” Lambert drags out his name with obtuse familiarity. “Come on, you can’t say that to me. Who’s going to keep you company at the next?—”

“I am not interested in hearing it, Lambert. You know what your stupidity almost cost me. One would think you would be less inclined to forgiveness, given that your tutoring sessions are now almost certainly also a thing of the past.”

Shit. Lambert’s falling grades. Not only have I fucked up my own chances—and Eddy’s—I’ve screwed over my only fucking friend in this stupid magical world. Tearing shame rips at my chest, stealing any apology I could make.

Lambert’s only dream is to play magiball. He was improving under Kyrith’s tutelage, and without that…

Lambert’s jaw snaps closed, locking with tension for a brief moment before he can plaster his easy-going face back on. “Kyrith’s not like that. She let us all back in, right? She’ll forgive me. I’ll bring her books.”

Leo pins him with a look, then nods his head towards a small pile on the table. “I already tried that. She won’t take them, won’t even show herself.”

“Well, I do look prettier than you,” Lambert cajoles. “Plus, you do have a habit of scaring off beautiful girls.”

I wonder why , I think dryly. He’s well on his way to freezing us to death with his frosty glare alone. I might not be Cassanova, but even I know women always want the funny ones, like Lambert, not the quiet, menacing nerd in the corner.

“I don’t think that’s going to cut it this time,” Galileo grumbles. “Or have you not noticed the furniture is three shades darker than it was yesterday? The curtains are black. Even the stained glass is grey. We did more than anger her. She was hurt.” He pauses, giving us both a look. “Her…affliction worsened.”

Three books zoom off the shelves and hang heavily in the air around him, looming with silent menace.

In answer, Galileo raises both hands in a gesture of surrender. “I apologise again, Librarian. It was never my intention to cause you harm.”

My mouth drops open, and my throat tightens.

He hurt her? She’s a ghost. How does that even happen?

No one was supposed to get hurt. It was only a book. Josef would probably consider it a bonus, but not me. I didn’t come here to trade one woman’s pain for another. Perhaps I should’ve brought one of those books with me, but I have no idea if any of them are worth anything or even any good. I’m not a reader. I’m barely an arcanist. I’d rather be gaming or playing normal inept football.

“Kyrith?” Lambert asks, looking around. “Hey, are you okay, boss lady? Can we do anything to help?”

He looks so lost, but he’s too good of a person to level the blame at my feet, or Leo’s. He probably should.

Kyrith…doesn’t answer him.