Chapter Eight

"Three fucking weeks, and we've got nothing."

Zo throws a ream of paper in the air, and I watch from my seated position on my bed next to Scarlett as they scatter all over our floor.

"Getting dirt on Circe was easier than this," Astrid murmurs from my desk as she scans an article on the Internet.

For three weeks, the girls and I found out more than we needed to know about the Moirai, or the Fates, as they are more often referred to. Everything from their symbolism to familial godly relationships, but absolutely nothing about Threads or how someone would cloak them.

"Did they give you a deadline?" Scarlett asks .

Your brother's death. "Nope, though I'm sure the clock is ticking."

"Well, it had to have been a god that did it. There's no one else powerful enough." Zo states.

Astrid turns in the chair. "Why would a god cloak a monster's Thread? That seems helpful, and they've never been inclined to help us."

"Only kill us," Zo agrees.

"There's one place we haven't looked," I remind them, and am met with blank stares. I roll my eyes. "The library."

Scarlett tilts her head pensively. "You think you might find something there that we couldn't find online?"

I shrug. "It's how I discovered the monster was Leviathan, in one of the books Kassi gave me."

An ache spears my chest. While the girl gang was devastated about Kassi, I was really the only one that knew her, the only one who spent time with her. A Sphinx with the Oracle's curse of the ability to reveal prophecies only for them not to be believed. She spent most of her time avoiding people who also instinctively avoided her, afraid that at any moment she might deliver a prophecy of doom. Kassi died protecting me, and when I think back to the moments before we entered the auditorium, it feels like she knew. I remember the way I grabbed her hand and told her I couldn't lose anymore people I cared about, and in retrospect, the half-hearted smile she gave me in return was her confirmation she knew she was going to die.

B interrupts our discussion as she enters our room. "Sorry I'm late. I had to meet with Nick to go over the Fencing Club's schedule for the year." Her eyes meet mine tentatively, as though checking to see if she somehow wounded me by mentioning his name.

"Sounds fun," I tell her. With Madeline graduating this past May, Nick was a shoo-in for the Fencing Club's President.

She points at me. "First meeting is this Saturday. You better be there. No excuses."

I nod but don't reply, my brain doing the exact opposite she requested: scrambling for reasons to avoid Fencing Club this year.

Nick is only part of the problem. Even though classes don't start until tomorrow, he was scarcely around these last few weeks and even missed the "welcome back" bonfire. I won't question Scarlett on his whereabouts, as I can only assume he's back to his Casanova status as the notorious playboy of Alystair University.

I can't bear the thought of that - another girl in his arms. Of him pleasuring her with his fingers and his tongue. Him moaning her name the way he did mine, gazing down upon her with a reverence that felt reserved only for me. My thoughts continue to spiral as I wonder if he'd ask her to beg, if he'd praise her for taking him so well. If he'd fuck her so hard she'd scream his name the same way I did -

"Rhi!" B snaps her fingers in my face.

I'm torn from my self-constructed cage of torment and find the girls looking at me, all wearing identical expressions of concern.

"Sorry," I murmur. "What were you saying?"

"We were going to get some dinner," Scar says gently.

My appetite is non-existent thanks to the scenario I tortured myself with, so I decline.

"Want us to bring you anything back?" Astrid asks.

"No. I'll get something later on."

Silence fills the room as they continue scrutinizing me, no doubt debating whether leaving me alone is wise.

Astrid breaks the silence and rises from the desk chair. "We have Advanced Poisons and Lab tomorrow. If that psycho tries to poison anyone like she did with the class last year -" she wriggles her gloved fingers - "I'll turn that bitch to stone."

I snort. "We'll be fine, Astrid."

The Gorgon flashes me a warning look before reaching her hand out to Scarlett, who takes it and rises from her seat next to me.

"You sure you don't want to come?" B asks, tucking a strand of dark brown hair behind her ear.

I shake my head. "I'll hang here. See you when you get back."

B shrugs and follows Astrid and Scar, glancing over her shoulder for Zo.

"Give me a sec, B. I want to talk to Rhi."

Shit. Nothing gets past her.

B eyes us both warily before she leaves and closes the door.

Zo whirls on me. "You're not doing it again, are you? Promise me you aren't."

"I'm not, Zo. I swear. Being back here brings up some bad memories, and I'm dealing with it. I've been talking to Wilde." I don't elaborate on the terror that paralyzes me at the mere sight of Southgate or the cold panic that sets in when the simple thought of a fencing foil enters my mind.

Zo nods, seeming to understand. "Fine. I said it before and I'll say it again: we've got you, Rhi. We've got each other, and that will never change."

"I know. "

"See you in about an hour," she says as a farewell.

I flop back on my pillow and pick up my phone to find a text from Jesse. It's a picture of Central Park through the window of his office, which has the environs of a penthouse suite. Jesse's office must be at the apex of the building, as a canopy of trees blanket Central Park, and I can even make out the tops of other buildings surrounding it. Underneath the photo, his text reads:

Jesse

Another boring day at the office.

I smile and type back:

Me

Yeah, but what a view.

Jesse

I can think of a better one.

My smile falls. I sit up and place the phone face down on my bed, dropping my head in my hands. I rub my temples, wondering how the fuck I am supposed to get through this entire school year without having a nervous breakdown.

Without warning, the same strange tug I felt weeks ago in the center of my chest surfaces.

The library .

I send a quick text to the girls to let them know where I'm headed before I pocket my phone and key card and head toward my destination. I approach the building apprehensively, anticipating fear to seize me, but all I can feel is my heavy heart, weighed down with so much sorrow. I didn't dare set foot in the library after Kassi's death, the thought of being among the stacks of books without her another brick laid atop my anguish.

Immediately upon entering, her presence envelopes me as though she waits in our old research spot downstairs. I nod a greeting to Maggie, the Librarian who sits dutifully at the Information Desk, her gray hair piled high on her head. My gaze zeros in on the staircase, and I inhale deeply, forcing one foot in front of the other.

I almost reach the railing when another unfamiliar sensation crawls across my skin, raising the hair on my arms. To say it's fear would be inaccurate, though the prickly awareness is similar. An innate force pulls my attention to the left, and my stomach drops when I see a head of raven locks held inside long fingers. Nick is propped up on his elbow, his head resting against the palm holding those dark tendrils. He is busy scribbling away in a notebook, eyes darting back and forth from an open text to his writing. Then, as if propelled by a magnet, his gaze snaps to mine.

We stay like this, locked in a battle of wills. Nick's face is impassive, and even those fiery eyes of his are without feeling.

Nick breaks contact first, eyes falling indolently to his prior work, as though our battle bored him. I shift uncomfortably, not used to being on the receiving end of his indifference, and my throat burns. I turn quickly, shuffling down the stairs, and run through the long corridors of the library until I reach the back wall. I dart down a familiar darkened aisle to my left, resting once I reach the middle. Finally, I press my back against the wall and slide down to sit, sobbing quietly.

I should be happy that Nick chooses to ignore me. This is what I wanted. This is what will keep him safe. Yet, my heart and my brain are constantly at war, one telling me I cannot exist in this world without him in any capacity, the other arguing his death upon my hands would destroy me, and I should be grateful we breathe the same air, because at least Nick is breathing.

A lone light above me flickers before stuttering out completely. A chill brushes across the back of my neck. That same prickle of awareness festers, though this time, it's definitely sinister.

I rise slowly, heart pounding wildly in my chest. The Scylla is quiet, so danger isn't present, yet something insidious licks the stale air. I walk towards the opening of the book stacks, toward the light that remains. My footsteps halt abruptly when that light winks out, plunging me into complete darkness.

"Hello?" I call out shakily. The rapid pace of my heart only increases when my breath comes out in airy wisps, though I don't physically feel the temperature in the room drop.

What the fuck is going on? Again, the Scylla remains silent, not so much as batting an eye. Why then, if there is no danger, do I feel a heavy sense of dread?

I peer around the corner of the shelf to find endless night greeting me. There are no windows down here, so the absence of artificial light means I'm left to my own devices. I reach for my phone in the pocket of my jeans when a startling thud has me whirling around.

At my feet is a heavy text, its spine worn and cracked. A thick layer of dust blankets its cover. I glance up toward the high shelves, my keen eyesight adjusting to the darkness and zeroing in on an empty space flanked by numerous books on either side. The shelf from which the book fell is at least another six feet beyond my reach, and appears to have not been disturbed in ages, judging by its grime-painted surface. So, how the hell did it just fall at my feet ?

I bend down to reach for the book, coughing as I blow away the dust to reveal its title. But before I can make out the words etched on its cover, icy fingers wrap around my wrist. I blink furiously, trying to reconcile the ghastly sight before I drop the book and a blood curdling scream rips from my throat.