Page 70 of Monster's Mystery

“It makes more sense than the kidnapper taking her, even if she is a beast like the others,” I said. I shook my head. “I don’t know. This is soweird.”

“You can say that again.”

“Can you ask Brom to ask the dean if there was any sort of vision spell on her? I… I think I need to research something,” I said slowly. “See you at dinner.”

“No problem,” Lilia said. “Good luck with your mysterious research.”

I ran back inside and down to the library. “Mister Brecken!” I shouted the instant I was through the door.

The old lady at the front desk hushed me, and I waved apologetically at her.

“Mister Brecken?” I hissed, walking quickly through the stacks.

“Miss Doyle?” he asked, popping out a few rows ahead of me. “What is it?”

“I need your help, and there isn’t much time,” I said. “The statue at the front of the school was stolen after lunch. I need to know more about her and the statue’s creation.”

To his credit, beyond blinking in surprise, the old librarian immediately turned on his heel and hobbled quickly through the library. “The school was created in 1666, as you know, but this castle belonged to the Blackthorn family before then. The young master opened it in honor of his wife.” He turned down an aisle and started scanning the titles. “There was an urban myth about the statue’s creation…” He slowed down and moved his fingers over the spines of the books. “Ah.”

The heavy book was nearly the length of his forearm, and I darted forward to catch it when he wobbled.

“Thank you, my dear. There’s a podium at the end of the aisle,” he said, indicating with his cane that we should continue walking.

It was one of the old podiums that spun, containing slots for several different books at once. He locked it in position and held out his hands for the book I was still holding.

I looked over his shoulder as he started flipping pages. “No table of contents?” I asked.

Mr. Brecken chuckled. “No index either. We have to flip through the pages like we used to do back in my day.”

“Someone should really scan all these books into a searchable database,” I said. “It would make finding things easier and more than one person can look at a book at a time.”

“Sure, but would you be able to do this?” Mr. Brecken pressed on a corner of the book, and then pulled upward.

The words on the page followed his motion, resolving into a seeming jumble. Then they settled, and suddenly I was watching a silent film of what had been on the page. Little people made out of words were moving stone into place for the foundation of the castle.

My jaw dropped in awe. “I didn’t know you could do that!”

Mr. Brecken smiled. “You haven’t learned everything these halls can teach you. Not yet, at least.”

“This would make studying long lists of plants a lot more fun,” I said.

“Oh, this doesn’t work for every book, I’m afraid. Just the ones with a story.” He pressed down firmly on the words, and they solidified back onto the page. “This is too early in Blackthorn’s history. We need to go to the sixteen hundreds…” He flipped a large chunk of pages over at once. “Getting there. Young master Blackthorn, the pride and joy of his parents, born in 1644, studied at—blah, blah, blah, that’s not important, where is the mention of his wife?”

He flipped another page and I gasped. “Is that him?” I asked, pointing at the miniature portrait on the next page.

Mr. Brecken paused. “Yes. Why?”

“No reason,” I said, swallowing hard. “It’s just weird to think that pictures of people in history books used to be alive and walk around.”

“It is.” Mr. Brecken continued reading while I stared into the eyes of someone who I had recently gotten very familiar with.

But that was impossible, wasn’t it?

“Here we go,” the librarian declared cheerfully, ignorant of the panic I was currently in. “Master Blackthorn met his wife in university. She was his soulmate, and they were wed before they graduated. He brought her back here, to Blackthorn, and she was the target of an attack by a Roc, which turned her into a statue.

“Master Blackthorn was devastated, and dedicated himself to searching for a cure. When he didn’t find one after two years of research, he opened the school in 1666, declared it his legacy, and left his cousin in charge. Then he disappeared into the enchanted forest, never to be seen or heard from again.” Mr. Brecken shook his head sadly. “Poor fellow. They’d only been married for a couple months.”

“She was his soulmate?” I asked. “Was he a beast?”

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