Page 97 of Woven Souls

As we creep down the hallways, I can hear the soft echo of memories. Conversations that took place with my father play on repeat in my head. Deep within the dark, narrow alcoves come whispers of desire spoken between lovers before we stole away to somewhere more private. But the emotions in those past moments are lost in the sea of my present state of utter hopelessness and failure.

I’m drowning in them.

My father failed our people, and I could do nothing to stop the fall into disgrace that purged my family from this very castle. No matter what I did, or who I spoke to, I met a wall of resistance. No one wanted the Windom family to continue to rule. After my father’s madness set in, I don’t blame them.

I thought the pain of those last few days here was long since gone. Healed over and forgotten, as time usually does with any wound. But as we make our way through my old home, the pain seems to be resurfacing. The only reason I’m not down on one knee, suffering under its effects, is because time is running out. I have new people who are counting on me. Willow and Kwil won’t be able to keep the guards off them forever.

My pace quickens.

We go up and down stairs, move through hallways that twist and turn, and cross through rooms that have secret doorways that lead to other sections of the castle. Those unfamiliar with the castle would undoubtedly get lost. As a child, hide and seek in a place as large and grand as this castle had been so much fun. As we move, I become more and more confident there is absolutely no one inside the building. I don’t wonder why that is. I can ponder it more later.

Finally, we reach the back of the castle where the library doors are chained shut.

“Well, shit,” Jonah steps forward. “Now what?”

I take his arm and pull him out of the way. “Stand back.”

Turning, we both watch as Viktor draws his sword. He lifts it over his head and slams it down on the chains. The links break, and the chain falls away. Jonah lets out an impressed whistle and steps forward to stand next to Viktor.

“Man, those swords are niffy. Think we can steal one for me before we leave?”

“Probably not,” I answer for Viktor as I walk into the dark library.

The moment I walk into the room, enchanted light fixtures flare to life. The entire space, so large I’m sure it’s magicked to fit here, is illuminated with a warm yellow glow. Rows after rows of bookshelves so tall that you can’t see the tops come into view. The magical sconces hanging on the wall and light fixtures dangling from the ceiling give off less light than usual due to the cobwebs and dust, but it’s enough for what we need. The library is musty, and my nose itches terribly. How there could be even more dust in here than in the rest of the castle combined is beyond me.

I draw my hood back as I look around. Viktor removes his next, giving me a view of his disapproving frown.

“What’s wrong?”

Viktor glances at me. “Seems like a waste of knowledge to keep this locked up.”

I don’t disagree.

“Okay, Jonah, it’s your time to lead.” I look over to find Jonah peering around with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

“How much do you think these books are worth?”

“Jonah, focus,” I scowl at him, and he sighs wistfully.

“Alright, come here.” He waves me over. When I’m beside him, he says, “Okay, here’s what I need from you. A teeny, tiny bit of your blood and any memories you have of the book.”

I blink.

“Excuse me?”

He nods. “You heard me. Just prick your finger while you’re thinking of what you want me to find.”

“Sounds extremely sanitary,” Viktor grumbles sarcastically as he sheaths his sword.

Determined to get this done as quickly as possible, I focus on the book my father carried around. It wasn’t large. Leatherbound, red, and covered with faded, silver ink in the shape of runes, the book had looked ancient even back then. The spine was ribbed with metal to keep the yellowing pages from falling out over time. I hold the image of it in my head as I bring my index finger up and use my fang to puncture the skin.

When I pull my finger away, a small drop of blood wells up. Without a word, Jonah snatches my hand and shoves the digit into his mouth. I grimace as his tongue swirls around it. When he lets go, I immediately wipe his saliva against my cloak.

“I think I prefer Willow’s mouth wrapped around me,” I mutter.

Jonah throws back his head and laughs. The sound is eaten up in the heavy silence of the library.

“Theo has jokes. I didn’t know you had it in you,” he teases as he turns and takes off to the right. He walks for a few feet and then turns left and disappears between a row of books.

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