Chapter 24

Twenty-Four

Kyrith

“ Y ou need to leave.” I don’t mean the words to be so snappy, but I didn’t realise just how close we were to midnight. “And the two of you need to get to bed. It’s well past curfew.”

I didn’t realise how long the match would go on for, but then again, I should’ve remembered that they don’t end until one team reaches nil. I should’ve anticipated that it might be later than this and prepared a contingency plan.

But no.

These arcanists have a way of making me forget.

Which is stupid. How can I possibly forget that I’m dead when I relive that death every night? They’re so full of secrets and life that it makes me careless.

“There’s no rush,” Leo attempts to sway me. “Lambert will no doubt want to celebrate the win, and we’ve been?—”

“No. You need to leave. Now.”

Dakari stands, stretching casually. Too casually. “She’s right. We watched the match together, and it’s getting late. Let’s call it a night. Lambert can celebrate tomorrow.”

Why is he helping me? Out of the kindness of his heart? I melt a little in gratitude, but the tension doesn’t leave my shoulders.

“The building won’t even let him in until opening time,” I add. “He can celebrate—quietly—then. Goodnight, all of you.”

I disappear into the ceiling before they can object further, leaving them in stunned silence.

Come on , I silently urge them. Leave. Go to bed. Just go away.

The Arcanaeum isn’t doing anything to encourage them, and I draw on the magic of the building to disappear all of the chairs in the room.

If that doesn’t get the message across, I might have to create a dungeon and seal them into it until morning.

Fortunately, Dakari is already heading for the door. “Hey, Jasper, weren’t you supposed to take some tonic or something before you slept?”

He grimaces, and I want to raise my eyebrows at him. I made those potions taste like raspberry specifically to lessen the burden of taking them. Talk about ungrateful.

“Fine.” He lets out a tired sigh. “See you tomorrow, Leo.”

They disappear, and I track their footsteps through the halls.

But Leo doesn’t leave.

If there’s one arcanist in the world whom I don’t want walking the halls of the Arcanaeum while I’m…indisposed, it’s Galileo ó Rinn.

Yet there he stands, hands in his pockets, his book abandoned on the table as he surveys the room like he can spot me hiding behind a shelf or something.

I open the door that Lambert left through, and he raises a brow.

“You seem nervous, Kyrie.”

Ooohhhh, I am going to…

I don’t remember giving him permission to shorten my name, and an objection lingers on the tip of my tongue—not because I don’t like it, but because when he says it like that, all touched with that Northern Irish brogue, it’s all too intimate.

Nope. Do not interact. It will only encourage him. Better to pretend that I’m so unconcerned that I left.

Unfortunately, ignoring him doesn’t work. He’s still here, still waiting. A hawk waiting for the mouse to leave her burrow so he can strike.

Fine. I’ll seal him in here until morning.

Except I don’t trust him not to break out, either.

“Please leave,” I whisper, letting the sound move through the books like the rustle of paper.

“I agreed to help you find a cure for your affliction, and yet, you’re still keeping secrets,” Galileo points out. “This isn’t the first time you’ve ushered us out of the Arcanaeum early, either. One has to wonder just what happens here after midnight?”

I don’t like the way he’s putting things together. Another lock slams across the vault door, but in a few minutes, it will be open and waiting for my nightly descent. Vulnerable.

Leo crosses his arms as he awaits my answer. Magic, I can’t even lie and say this isn’t pertinent to the cracking.

Because the cracks on my ghostly form are so clearly echoes of the cracks on my preserved body down below. They’re related. I’d be insane not to believe it.

Am I desperate enough to trust him with this?

Dakari’s words of warning echo in my mind, and a sense of foreboding skitters along the shelves.

On the one hand, Galileo has access to resources I don’t. He’s intelligent, and we have an agreement. I believe his self-interest is tied to his remaining on my good side.

But my own re-enactment is deeply painful, leaving me exposed in a way someone so cutting and ruthless wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of.

If he discovers that the Vault is left open, unprotected, for a brief window every single night, he will undoubtedly use that. And the Arcanaeum would let him in, because it seems determined to undermine my wishes in everything related to these men.

My eyes flick back to the clock. Two minutes.

That’s all I have left to convince him or force him to leave. I’m tempted towards the latter, even though I know that will destroy any remaining goodwill between us.

Sometimes it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission. Especially when it comes to pushy, arrogant male arcanists.

Galileo’s hand drops casually—too casually—to the grimoire at his hip. Has he sensed my thoughts, or is he thinking the same?

“I don’t wish to cause you harm,” he murmurs placatingly, as the books around him leave their shelves, hovering menacingly.

An interesting thing to say with his hand literally millimetres from a weapon.

The door on his left flies open, the invitation clear.

One minute.

He sighs, both hands reaching down to his pockets this time. He mutters something under his breath as he heads for the door, pausing at the threshold to give me a reluctant nod.

Leo, giving up so easily? I don’t trust it.

Not even when the door closes behind him and nothing immediately changes in the room. I waste precious seconds closing and locking every single door, then checking to make sure that, yes, Dakari and Jasper are sealed into their room.

So, when the ineluctable force takes hold of me and drags me back to the Foyer to die all over again, I don’t resist.

It’s only when I’m curled around myself, hugging my knees protectively as I rise out of the Vault to land behind my desk, that Galileo’s suspicious behaviour comes back to me.

In a daze, I lift my head, eyes trailing around the Rotunda, then up and down the Botanical Hall, searching shadows for someone I hope not to find.

Nothing.

My shoulders sag in relief, but the prickling awareness doesn’t ease.

The Arcanaeum sags slightly, tugging lightly at my consciousness with sadness and…guilt? I look up. Slowly, I take in the Gallery directly above and freeze at the tableau before me.

This is so much worse than I feared.

Dakari is there, his hand firmly banded around Lambert’s upper arm because the usually happy Winthrop heir is poised to throw himself over the balcony. His hair is wet like he’s just showered and hanging wildly around his face, which is sporting an impressive bruise. Galileo has both arms braced on the marble as well, but his expression is dark and contemplative as he regards me.

And Jasper and North are here, too, hovering at the back, like they’re not sure they should be there at all. They’re mired in pity. It radiates from their every pore. I would’ve thought North would be halfway towards the open Vault trapdoor by now, and at the reminder, I slam it closed with a loud thunk that makes them jump. Good.

I want to scream at them to get out. To rage at them.

Right now, I’m so weak I can’t find the energy to do either.

Besides, they’re not to blame here. The building is sending me waves of apology, of pain and sorrow. It allowed this. Worse, I get the feeling that it encouraged it. Otherwise, how else would Lambert and North have entered when I specifically checked that we were closed? How would Dakari and Jasper manage to pass through a locked and warded door?

Leo is sneaky enough and clever enough that I could believe he managed this by himself. The others, while powerful, don’t have the motive nor the skills to bypass the building’s magic.

“Why?” I ask it, softly.

Why would it do this to me? Humiliate me like this? What reason could it possibly have to take my macabre personal hell and put it on display for the five arcanists above me?

Not for the first time, it’s betrayed me. I’m lost. More and more, I feel like we’re all pawns in a chess match. And the Library is the grand master orchestrating our every move. But against whom, and for what purpose?

Of course, the Arcanaeum doesn’t answer, so I take a breath that I can’t feel, squeeze my eyes tightly closed for a second, and force myself to stand.

“Get. Out.” I meet each of their stares in turn as I say it.

“Boss lady,” Lambert says, but the nickname is shrouded in softness and missing its usual cheekiness as he reaches for me. “Let us?—”

“OUT!”

The word is a boom that ricochets across the gap between us, blowing their hair back with the force I put behind it. Unfortunately, it saps what little strength I have from me, and I collapse backward, falling through the desk until I’m forced to dissipate into the Arcanaeum itself to save myself from falling back into the Vault.

I wish I could fade completely, but they’re still here, so I wait and watch.

Lambert shrugs off Dakari’s hand with a glower, and the Talcott heir raises both palms in silent apology.

“What the fuck was that?” North finally demands.

All of them are rounding on the older arcanist now, I note. Like they expect him to explain. When he speaks, a second later, the reason for that becomes painfully clear.

“I don’t know what it is. It happens every single night.”

Every night? He… How many times has he seen? Why would he keep watching? If I could, I’d throttle the building until it answers me. It’s silent now, waiting and watching without so much as a creak in the rafters.

“I think it’s fairly obvious.” Galileo clinically folds up the sleeves of his shirt, ignoring their looks.

“Explain then,” Lambert grumbles, snatching up his black magiball jacket from where it’s fallen to the floor. “Because that was awful.”

“She’s a ghost. There are literally dozens of accounts of ghosts re-enacting their deaths. Apparently, she’s no different.”

“And she died in the Vault,” North realises. “That’s why she won’t let anyone down there.”

“And we’re five hundred years too late to do anything about it,” Dakari mutters, hands fisted by his side.

“She dies over and over in the Vault at the hands of all six parriarchs,” Leo murmurs, calculation heavy in his tone. “Which means that something down there is powerful enough to bind a spirit to a building for so long.”

The books around them start to lift from the shelves defensively. Behind them, a secret door that shouldn’t exist slams closed noisily.

Dakari’s fingers are wrapped around the slender man’s throat before he can say another word. “If you think for one second?—”

“Hey, dude, he doesn’t mean it.” Lambert steps between the two of them and stares them both down. “Look. I get it. The ó Rinns aren’t exactly renowned for their trustworthiness, but Leo is different. He just wants to cure?—”

“That’s all they ever want.” Dakari’s black eyes flash. “And they don’t give a damn about who gets hurt in the process. She has suffered enough . I think it’s pretty damned clear that the Arcanaeum brought you here to see that for yourselves, before you try to use her.”

His protectiveness soothes something inside me that I didn’t know was jagged and raw. The books that had been floating around them lower as the stones in the foundation seem to ease slightly with hope.

Jasper shifts against the bookcase that he was using to support himself, folding his arms. “We should apologise. She clearly didn’t want us to see her like that.”

“Then why let us in?” North just looks confused. “I thought?—”

“It’s becoming clear that the Librarian is not the only being able to control the Arcanaeum.” Leo waves him off. “Either the ghosts of the liminals sacrificed before her are still active, or?—”

“The building is sentient.” Lambert shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I figured everyone knew.

All four of them turn to look at him like he’s insane.

“What?”

“How exactly did you come to that conclusion?” Leo asks, though his expression remains calculating rather than surprised.

The sheepish way he shifts his weight from foot to foot makes me certain I won’t like this answer. “This one time, during tutoring, I almost set the place on fire, and I was trying to extinguish it before Kyrith noticed. She gets so disappointed, and I wanted… Yeah, anyway… This pile of sand poured over the desk before I could use a book to pat it out, and then the sand disappeared, and a book shifted to cover the scorch marks before the boss lady could notice.” Another casual shrug. “I figure we’re bros.”

What. On. Earth?

He’s not lying. The curtains are inching closed in the way I’ve taken to interpret as embarrassment. But bros ? Really?

Lambert looks around with a small frown. “She argues with it a lot as well. Have you really not noticed?”

Dakari nods, finally releasing Leo’s neck. “When she asked me to collect Mathias Ackland’s grimoire, she seemed like she didn’t want it. The assignment kept popping out of the drawers of her desk.”

Leo massages his throat, pacing to put distance between them.

“So she really doesn’t have it?” North’s exasperation is a welcome change from the sympathy that doesn’t belong on his Luciferian features. “I need that stupid book.”

It’s hard to focus on his confession, because a bigger part of me is concerned about what this ‘meeting’ really means.

They’re swapping notes, experiences. The more they share, the fewer secrets I have left. I want to force them all to leave, but if they have this discussion outside of these walls, there’s no telling who might listen in. Right now, the disaster is contained.

If this news gets out… If their parriarchs discover any of this… If Leo or Dakari mention that I crack whenever they touch me…

My cold dread washes through the halls. My thoughts racing through the sludge that is my mind as the five of them exchange looks.

Dakari’s still levelling a distrustful glower at Leo. “If you use this information to hurt her?—”

“It doesn’t serve my interests to harm Kyrith.” Leo finishes with his sleeves and turns on his heel. “It may not align with your family’s belief that every ó Rinn is out to destroy everyone and everything, but?—”

“Can we all circle back to how we’re going to apologise to the boss?” Lambert interrupts, looking distressed enough that Leo takes an involuntary step closer to him. “Like, do you think she needs more books? Or maybe I should get her a plant? Are plants worth more than books? What level of fuck-up is this? Coffee level? Plant level? Book level?” He gulps. “Book shelf level?”

He has a level system for apologies? Oh, who am I kidding? Of course he does.

“Probably best to just apologise and mean it rather than try to bribe her,” Jasper mutters.

What? Apology gifts aren’t bribes! The library shifts the bookcase behind him, knocking him forwards.

“Or perhaps not,” he murmurs, catching his balance a second later.

“More books,” Lambert says, grabbing the door handle. “Gotcha. Hey, do you think we’re still on for the strip?—”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Dakari interjects. “Especially if she finds out you tried to get into the Vault.”

“Because she was crying!” Lambert’s puppy eyes are hollow with sad disbelief. “Begging. You mean to tell me you didn’t try to go to her when you saw this for the first time?”

Dakari says nothing, and the blond levels a told-you-so look his way. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

He knocks on the door, says, “my bedroom,” and wrenches it open, striding through.

That quickly he’s gone, taking my secrets out into the world.

North catches the handle and follows his friend home without a word. Leo stays long enough to continue his stare off with Dakari, but eventually picks a different door, mutters his own destination, and disappears.

“She told us to get out,” Jasper murmurs, as soon as they’re alone. “Do you think she’s revoked the Sanctuary?”

Dakari shakes his head. “I hope not, but you’re not leaving here until we know for certain. You’re still too?—”

“At risk. Yes, I know.”

They head back up to their room, and I allow myself to re-materialise where they were standing, looking down at the trapdoor, which is, once again covered by the rug I chose to hide it. My hands trace the banister where Leo was standing thoughtfully, and I sigh loudly.

Something is niggling at the back of my mind. An idea that feels like a gross violation of privacy, and yet…

I’m fed up with being on the back foot, and tonight I’ve reached my limit.

Of all of them, North and Leo worry me the most. I can’t do anything about North and his father without finding the Ackland grimoire, but I do have the Talcott grimoire that Leo wants so desperately.

I think it’s time I did some reading.