by HD Smith
“Merryman, are you a seer? Do you know Omar? Did he send you?”
He harrumphed. “I’m no puppet of that whippersnapper.”
“Yet you want me to find his book—why?”
“The act of finding it will show you something more important.”
“So the book itself is irrelevant?”
“I didn’t say that. It’s helpful—to the right reader,” he groused.
“I’m the right reader? Why?”
“In my world, your adventures are legend, but you aren’t making progress here. You have stalled—the story is waiting.”
“What story, my life?” I scoffed. “Sorry if Jack’s death and discovering my mother was killed because she loved the Devil has derailed my progress.”
“Don’t get snippy with me child. The Fates are fickle with their favor. I suggest you get back on track or they’ll pick another to take your place.”
“Fuck you. I didn’t ask for any of this. If fate wants to change things, then by all means, play on.” I turned to leave.
“Wait. Find the book. It’s the only way you’ll leave this place.”
I spun to face him. “I’m tired of all the cryptic bullshit. Tell me what I need to know.”
“It’s in the Reference section,” Merryman said, pushing me back with his cane, throwing me out of the dream.
I sat up in bed—pissed. He hadn’t told me anything, just where to find the damn book. I lay back down, but I didn’t stay there long. Something was niggling at me. Prophecy or not, fate or bad luck, it didn’t matter. I wanted out of this prison. I had to find the library.
Chapter 2
I searched the house for two days, but found no library. Worse, I couldn’t even find the girls in the museum anymore. It seemed as though the dream world had abandoned me too, like everything about the dream was on hold—as if it were waiting for me to find the book.
I was searching one of the upstairs hallways when a hand grabbed my shoulder. I jumped, spinning around to face my attacker.
It was Death. “You scared me,” I said, swatting at his hand. He pulled me close for a hug anyway. His warm calming influence washed over me, but I didn’t want his comfort today. I turned my head to the side when he tried to kiss me. I was still upset at being trapped here.
“Are you still mad?” he asked.
I was about to say, “Hell yes,” when I decided to take a different approach. I didn’t want him knowing my plans, but I needed his help to find the library.
“I’m bored.” I tried to sound as nonchalant as I could manage. “Don’t you have anything to read around here?”
The side of his mouth turned upward. “Aren’t you the queen of tech? I know I’ve seen you with an e-reader.”
“I’ve seen all the rooms I know about in the villa. If I’m going to spend more time here, I just want to explore and I imagine your library would be really cool. Something worth seeing first hand.”
He studied me. I smiled and tried to look innocent.
“Or,” I continued, “we can go to the city. The library there is quite fabulous.”
He sighed, resting his forehead on mine. “Fine, I’ll show you where it is. But there are valuable things there. You’ll have to be careful.”
“I’m not a child. I can read books without breaking the spines.” I said.
“They’re not all in English.”
“Then I’ll just look at the pictures.”
He laughed. Death didn’t need to know that I could probably read any book ever written. A fact no one knew.
“Please,” I persisted.
He sighed. “Okay. I’ll show you.”
Taking my hand, he pulled me along after him. We returned to the first floor and headed toward our bedroom. As I followed him down the hallway, past our room—a direction I was sure I’d checked earlier—it occurred to me now that I should have been searching the villa with my presence. I’d been so twisted up with grief in the beginning, it hadn’t occurred to me to look for hidden wards or spells he might be using to keep me trapped here. It wasn’t like he’d thrown me in the dungeon—not one I recognized, anyway. His prison was much more subtle.
I’d discovered the ability to slip my consciousness from my body after entering Purgatory last spring. It allowed me to move my presence into the in between and roam around incorporeally, a form of astral projection. My view of the world changed when I slipped to this bodiless state. I could see thresholds, wards, and other magic. Considering the house was almost pure magic, I should have thought of this earlier. But, better late than never.
I closed my eyes and slipped outside my body. I continued to walk forward, keeping my presence in lockstep. It was a bit tricky, but I managed not to trip over my own feet or run into Death as he led me forward. I breathed a sigh of relief when he gave no indication that he could sense me in this state.
I gaped as the walls lit up with glyphs and symbols. We walked past literally hundreds of wards; no wall was left blank. Every so often he touched one and pushed it away, clearing a path. The characters and pictographs were in many different languages, but thanks to my adventures last spring, I could read them all.
The translator, another company perk, was implanted technology that originally gave me the ability to hear almost all spoken language as English. That all changed when Mace—one of the quads that was now under Mab’s control in Purgatory—damaged it, then his sister Cinnamon—also now trapped in Purgatory—suggested I turn it back on. At the time my powers were still bound, but I was able to use my watch as a conduit for casting spells. The simple request to turn the translator back on, resulted in a fully functioning—no restrictions—device for deciphering all languages, written or spoken. This even included Ancient—something I was sure The Boss had never intended when he had the technology embedded in my brain five years ago.
It still amazed me when the English translations hovered over the words or symbols. I watched as Death touched words for “pass” or “go” or “enter” as we made our way into new sections of the house. I saw a few glyphs for portals and hidden rooms, which I was sure he didn’t want me to know about. I’d remember those for later, and explore the next time he left me alone.
After what felt like several minutes of walking, he stopped suddenly. I had to catch myself before slamming into him.
Before opening my eyes and slipping back into my body, I studied the door ahead. A purplish-blue glow covered it, which must have been hiding it from my normal sight. Death tapped a glyph for “hide” and the glow lightened to a pale blue. I opened my eyes, pulling my presence back in. I glanced behind us down the hall. I could see the door to our bedroom, but I was sure we’d walked farther than that.
The door was now visible to my normal sight. It was a solid mahogany, inlaid with ornate scrolls and mother of pearl seahorses, a tropical and somewhat odd motif.
“I’ve opened the way,” Death said. “You’ll be able to get here now on your own.”
He pushed open the door, and we walked into a room three or four times the size of our bedroom. The walls were lined with tall wooden bookshelves, stained a dark mahogany to match the door. A rail ran along the top of the bookcases, with the ladder that rode along it hooked on at the far corner.
Cushy leather reading chairs were placed in groups of four. There were three groups in the room. Each contained a side table and reading lamp in the shape of a conch shell. A bench seat on the far wall appeared to look out over a beautiful beach, and although I’d swear I could smell the ocean, like all windows in Death’s house I knew it was an illusion.
At first glance I was a bit disappointed. Considering this was Death’s library, I expected a multi-level room at least a football field or two in size. This looked like a really nice reading nook in a mansion, not Death’s archive.
“What do you think?”
I tried not to sound too disappointed, but if what I could see was really all there was, I was fairly sure I had more books on my e-read
er. “Considering it’s the first new thing I’ve seen in weeks, I love it. But why so tropical?”
He chuckled, then kissed me on the side of the head. “The reader’s magic influences the room’s décor. I suppose the real question is, why would you make it so tropical?”
I shrugged. “No clue.”
I scanned the shelves closest to the door. There were several books in Latin, German, and French, but only a few in English. He even had the complete works of William Shakespeare in Swahili.
“Interesting collection,” I said, not wanting to sound too curious.
He kissed me. “I’ll leave you to explore.”
I slipped outside my body the moment the door closed behind him. My mouth hung open in amazement as I stared at the real library, a room more inline with my expectations. Seven decks rose above the center atrium where I stood. Wards locked the upper floors. I scanned the room and saw the stairs to the second level.
Remembering that I was looking for Omar’s book, I scanned around for a card catalog. There was a dusty, ancient-looking miniature chest of drawers in the corner. It looked similar to an apothecary cabinet, with square drawers marked with little white labels.
The labels were all in Latin, but the translator overlaid them perfectly with English. Merryman said the book would be in the Reference section. I flipped through a few cards and quickly found the book’s entry. Omar’s book was titled Portals, Realms, and Legends for the Infant Learner.
I was sure there’d been something lost in translation from the original title in Latin. Of course, I suppose Portals, Realms, and Legends for Dummies could have already been taken.
Assuming Death’s library was set up like a normal library, I headed for the second floor.
The stairs to the second level were tucked behind the picture window, which now showed the bustling streets of Shakespeare’s London. I ignored the new setting and slipped outside my body. I touched the circular scroll holding the lock to the second floor. The picture window disappeared, showing me steps in an archway.
Chapter 3
Omar’s book was the chapter book version of a cross between a history lesson about the realms, and a myth about the fourth realm. My unique ability to remember everything, thanks to a spell I cast on me last spring before I realized I had powers, helped me file each page away as I read it.
At first glance the book was only about thirty pages, and most of the lessons on the three known realms were glossed-over summaries of each topic. I turned the page, following a very PC version of Purgatory’s history, expecting to find the Myths and Legends section. The page was blank. I flipped to the next page, which was also blank. I turned page after page. All were blank. After seven or eight pages I realized the book wasn’t ending. I turned back one page and found the end of the Purgatory chapter. Huh?
I froze when I heard the faint sound of a whistle. “Crap,” I muttered. Death was coming back.
He was somewhere close, or I wouldn’t have been able to hear him. Reluctantly, I put the book back on the shelf exactly where I’d found it. He might notice otherwise.
I hurried down the stairs. Slipping from my body to see the ward, I touched the circular scroll to close the archway to the stairs. I’d have to come back later to figure out how to read the book. I was sure there was a trick to it—I just had to figure it out.
I sat on the bench looking out at long-dead London, when the door opened and Death stepped inside.
“This is new,” he said, glancing around.
I surveyed the room, realizing the window wasn’t the only thing that had changed. The shell lamps had been replaced with Victorian wall sconces and the brown leather chairs were now a blood red. It looked a bit like a Parisian whore house, certainly not high society London.
I used my will and the room instantly returned to the ocean with seashell lamps and mother of pearl inlaid seahorses. I looked out the window, hearing the caw of a seagull, wishing it was real.
“Do you want to go to the beach?” he asked.
“Not this beach, but a real one would be nice.”
“Claire, we’ve had this discussion before. It isn’t safe out there. Not right now.”
“You go out.”
“Yes, to keep up appearances, and I have a job, remember. I can’t just neglect my duties. They’ll suspect you’re with me. Do you want that?”
I shook my head, but honestly I didn’t know anymore. I smiled, not wanting him to suspect anything was different. He’d have to go again soon. I’d read the book then.
~#~
Death sat with me at the kitchen table reading one of his morning papers. He’d been here for three days, and mentioned nothing about plans to leave again. I was dying to finish reading the book, and if past experience was any indicator of his behavior, me asking to leave would be followed by a sudden unexpected call he couldn’t refuse. At this point I wasn’t above manipulating him to get what I wanted.
“I want to go out,” I said.
“The big three have been looking for you,” Death said, not looking up from his morning paper. “I can’t hide you if you leave.”
“Then they’ll find me. It has to happen sometime.”
Death put down his paper. Without warning, he leaned forward and covered my hand with his. His calming influence washed over me. He was trying to manipulate my emotions.
“Stop,” I snapped, pulling away. “You act like they can just hold me against my will. I don’t plan to stay with them, and they have no claim to bind me.”
He chuffed. “They can make you do anything they want, Claire. If they knew you were here, I wouldn’t be able to keep you from them.”
“It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”
He sighed. “I’m not ready to let you go yet.”
I leaned back in the chair. “Yet? What the hell does that mean?”
He ran his hands through his hair, as if he were getting frustrated. “That’s not what I mean, baby.”
He looked into my eyes, then reached out.
I held my hands out of his reach. “No. Don’t.” I wouldn’t let his influence affect me. Not this time. “I appreciate your help. I needed this time away, but I can’t stay hidden forever. This isn’t a life—certainly not one that’s better than what I had before.”
“If you leave you won’t come back,” he said. The idea seemed to pain him.
Our relationship had become more than I ever expected, but I wasn’t Jayne and he’d eventually realize that. My blood connection with her wouldn’t keep us together forever, and I didn’t want to live like this anymore. How was his protection any better than the kind The Boss offered? At least with the Devil I knew where I stood. Death had confused things by getting emotionally involved with me. It helped me get over Jack, but that wasn’t enough anymore. I needed a life—freedom—control of my future, if that was possible. I had none of that here with him. This was no better than before.
“If you continue to try and keep me here, I won’t want to come back. Don’t you understand that?”
“You’re not safe out there. I won’t let you endanger yourself.”
“Harry will follow the rules. He won’t let—”
Death barked out a laugh, interrupting me. “If you actually knew the rules, you wouldn’t consider that a mark in your favor.”
He stormed out of the room, leaving me there dumbfounded.
The argument tactic hadn’t worked. Death stayed at the house for another three days. I avoided him and the library, as if neither interested me. He didn’t ask any questions. He could tell I was still pissed. He played along as if he didn’t notice. I’m sure he assumed I’d just get over it, or he didn’t truly care. I wasn’t sure I could actually tell the difference anymore.
I kissed him the morning he left as if it were the last time I’d ever see him. The sad part was I don’t think he noticed. Phantom Jack had been telling me Death didn’t care for weeks. I finally believed him.
I made my way back to the
library. Omar’s book was exactly where I’d left it. Sinking into one of the buttery soft chairs downstairs, I picked up where I’d left off—the blank page after the section on Purgatory.
I flipped a few of the blank pages, considering what Merryman had meant by “Helpful to the right reader.”
Were the pages blank because I was not the right reader?
As I flipped the next page I cut my finger. “Ouch!” I cursed.
A line of blood rose to the surface. Before I could stop it, a drop beaded and fell to the open page. The faintest ripple of energy slid over the book, and the blank page filled with text.
In bold letters and curly script, the final chapter’s title appeared:
Prophecies and Auguries for the Lost Realm—Indexed and Described.
Chapter 4
My blood—well, Jayne’s blood—awakened the book. I turned the page to the index.
It included sixteen entries, and one blank line. I paused after glancing at sixteen: BETRAYED - One will betray and one will die.
I recognized it as something Wylan James had translated from the old seer’s reading last spring. The Boss had sent me on an errand Downtown to see James. I’d thought it was to pick up a package from the Sunshine Sandwiches deli owner, but it was to have the old seer that worked with James read me. I hadn’t believed any of it at the time. It was just a bunch of ramblings from an old man—gloom and doom type bullshit, but since then I knew some of what James said was true. After the first reading, the seer accused me of being the girl—the Harbinger. I had no clue what that meant at the time, but understood later when Mab told Mace of the fourth realm and the augury that tied me to it. Scanning the list, I realized the last six prophecies used terms from that conversation.
