Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 93948 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93948 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
“Is it…supposed to look like that?” Evelyn whispers, her eyes wide.
“Apt, don’t you think?” Nox answers. They nudge her with their shoulder. “Want to burn it down as we leave?”
“I do like a good fire on occasion.” Evelyn flicks a glance to Lizzie, some unspoken history there. I know they used to be in a relationship before Evelyn arrived in Threshold, but there seem to be no hard feelings on either side now. “Just like that time we went gambling in Monte Carlo.”
Lizzie rolls her eyes and finally allows Maeve to stand on her own. “It was only a small fire. It hardly counts.”
I inhale deeply, sorting through the scents to find what I’m looking for. “Two people patrolling. The last scent trail is old enough that they should be coming…there.”
Nox and Lizzie move in coordinated perfection. As the guards come around the corner, each dressed in the Council’s crimson, they crumple, one’s eyes rolling back in their head and one with a small trail of blood coming from their nose. Bowen reaches out at the same moment, catching them before they can hit the ground and floating them over to us. Evelyn and Maeve quickly rifle through the guards’ coats, the latter coming up with a key and handing it to me.
Nox surveys the building. “No door on this side. Which way?”
Bastian sweats lightly, a small line between his brows as he concentrates. “Left.”
We go left. The building may have started as a perfect square, but that was a long time ago. Now its perimeter is as haphazardly designed as its walls. We round four corners before reaching the promised door. The key fits perfectly, and it opens soundlessly, revealing a rectangle of darkness.
“That’s not ominous or anything,” Evelyn murmurs.
Nox glances at me, prompting another deep inhale, which makes me sneeze. Magic is thick in the air. There are wards on the building, but they’ve been unlocked with the key, the same way the door has. It’s difficult to tell if anyone has come through here—aside from the guards. “I don’t know what we’re going to find.”
“Nothing to do but go in,” they finally say.
They start to step forward, but I shake my head. “I’ll go first. I see better in the dark than anyone here.”
“I see well enough,” Lizzie snaps, but it’s half-hearted, even for her. “I’ll bring up the rear so we don’t get ambushed.”
No one bothers to argue with the vampire. They file in after me, and Lizzie softly closes the door behind us. It’s even darker like this, dark enough that Bastian presses a hand to the middle of my back, and I can hear the others mirroring his motion behind him. It’s like a children’s game as we file deeper into the building, following the strangely curving hallways.
Nobles usually enter through the public door on the other side of the building. Even so, I finally start to pick up familiar scents after a few turns. Thank the gods. It takes several minutes to get my bearings, but I manage to lead us through another series of hallways until we reach a broad archway and the scent of dust. “Up ahead.”
“Don’t rush,” Bastian says. “I’ll keep the glamour in place until we’re inside.”
I go slowly, using every one of my senses to search for evidence of a trap. There must be a trap. I’m not one to believe in omens and the like, but this has been too blessedly easy. Yes, the Council is lazy and corrupt and overly confident in their power. The last attempted—failed—attack on Lyari was three hundred years ago. The warriors were cut down in the mouth of the bay; they never had a chance to reach the city, let alone this building. The citizens in the city don’t want to draw the attention of the Council, so aside from the random thief who’s too desperate to know better, locals avoid this space.
And the attempted thieves? They dangle from the nooses in Hangman’s Courtyard until they rot enough to become a hazard. A warning that people heed.
A warning we’re ignoring.
We file into the library. I’ve only been in here a handful of times, and not since I was a teenager, but I could swear little has changed. It’s a great dome of a room, with bookshelves running up the walls. Overhead, the curved ceiling has dozens of strange shapes hanging from it. They look like some kind of artifacts, but I can’t begin to guess their origins.
The carpet underneath our feet is ancient and faded to the point where I can’t figure out what the design originally was. The room curves away on the opposite side from where we entered, fading into deep darkness that not even my eyes can penetrate. That way will have more of what we have here, as well as an office for the person who oversees the collection.