Page 48 of The Curse of Indy Moore
In the hall, there were no dogs or wolves. There weren’t any people, either. The archive grew eerily quiet. Another shadow moved between the shelves, spreading across the hall, then vanishing. I picked up my pace, moving around the aisles that went on and on.
Where had the staircase been? Did I get turned around?
A book fell off a shelf near me. That was no coincidence.
“Hello? Is anyone there?” I put the book back on the shelf then peeked around to the other side.
The hall sat empty. The lighting flickered. Ahead, the darkness consumed the shelving, casting long shadows across the empty archive. My heaving breaths echoed in the silence, then came another growl.
At the end of the hall, a pair of gold eyes blinked in the dark. Not Carline, based on the height, but a dog that stepped into the light. It was not one of the wolves that chased me that night. The hound had on a collar, of all things, its fur black as night, fangs bared and eyes fearsome in their golden hue.
I swallowed hard, telling myself the dog was a trick, an illusion. Mr. Hawthorne said Carline could mess with my mind.
But that dog certainly felt real when it lunged.
I ran between the shelves. I could not outrun the beast in the open. The wolves had proven that, having taunted me through the forest. There were obstacles here, books and scrolls that I shoved off shelves. The shelves themselves wouldn’t move, having seemingly been bolted down based on my futile attempt to shove them over.
The dog gained, his barking wild and piercing. His claws scratched against the floorboards, always reminding me they could tear me to ribbons if he got close enough.
“Help!” I screamed.
The archives had been so busy, and yet I was left at the mercy of a beast entirely alone. Behind me, the dog snarled. I whipped around, book in hand. The dog was an aisle down. I threw the book and hit its head, but the dog didn’t flinch. I sprinted down another aisle, shrieking, then hit something.
“What in the world are you doing?!” A pair of hands latched onto my arms, tight enough to bruise.
“A dog! Please, let go, the dog is…” Nowhere to be seen.
The lights were on and bright, the hallways breezy and open. I stood in the grasp of an angered librarian, his face wrinkled by rage. Books laid on the floor behind me, the ones I had been tearing from the shelves to trip the dog that vanished entirely.
Another illusion, but it had felt so real that I was left struggling to stand. If the librarian hadn’t taken hold of me, my knees would have given out.
“We do not allow such childish behavior in our archives,” the librarian said sternly, his face taking on a red hue.
“I apologize. I’ll clean it up right away,” I tried, but he dragged me away from the shelving.
“You’ve done quite enough.”
“There you are, sweetheart.” Mr. Hawthorne pushed the librarian back to settle his arm around my shoulders. He smiled, like holding me against his side was normal. “I have been looking for you everywhere. You really shouldn’t wander off.”
Sweetheart?
The librarian looked us up and down. “Is this your partner, sir? She has made a mess of our library, tearing the books off the shelves. If there are any damages—”
“I will handle them,” Mr. Hawthorne interjected, with books hovering at his back. “Please forgive her. She has had a horrid fever the last week or so, and we thought she was finally feeling up to an outing, but it seems she needs more rest.”
“That is quite unfortunate, but we simply cannot have someone gallivanting through the halls and tearing books from the shelves.”
“I understand. I won’t let her out of my sight.”
“If that’s the case…” The librarian adjusted his robes. “So be it, but I expect the mess to be cleaned, too.”
“We will get right on it.”
The librarian left. Mr. Hawthorne released me, leaving me abnormally cold. There had to be an open window nearby, or something of the like. I crossed my arms to resist the urge to lean against him.
“What happened?” Mr. Hawthorne peeked into the aisle to find the mess I had made. He took to cleaning up. I hurried after him, grabbing the books to hand off, seeing as he found where they went easier than me.
“I saw something, a dog. I was looking for you when the lights started flickering. At the end of the hall, there was a dog with gold eyes and a collar, which made it so strange, and I thought what if it wasn’t an illusion? The dog chased me, but then I ran into the librarian, and the dog disappeared.” I kept my eyes out for the dog, expecting every corner we turned to be our last.
