Page 39 of A Dream of Stars and Curses

Anton and Leverett leave me to it, and I have a look around the shelves. If Anton has a classification system, I don’t see it, except perhaps a loose organisation by subject. Everything on this shelf and the two next to it seems to be about history. The few books in my gallery’s library use the Dewey system, but as far as I can tell, there’s nothing on these books that would tell Anton where to shelf them. Maybe he doesn’t need it, and I don’t suppose it matters. It’s his and Saif’s private collection after all. There’s no need to send panicking students with looming deadlines to the right shelf.

I spy the balcony from the corner of my eye. Its double doors are wide open, and a lazy breeze dances into the room. This is all I need to be happy—wind and books. And time to myself to go through them all. I hope Anton meant it when he said I could come back, because there are too many for just one evening. I expect I won’t even have that—as soon as Anton is done discussing whatever he has to share with Leverett, we’ll likely go back outside.

So, I decide to make the most out of my time in here.

I wish Anton had at least some kind of hint as to what’s on every shelf. How does he find anything in here? He didn’t know how many books are in here, but I bet it’s several thousand at least. I browse the spines and find heavy tomes on history, an encyclopaedia on the Veiled—I take it off the shelf so I can leaf through it—and...

Huh. A book on scrying techniques.

It’s not the thickest book here. Not that I know how many scrying techniques there are, and it wasn’t like I was specifically looking for a book on it. Kate mentioned clouds, flames, and mirrors, and I kinda can’t think what else there might be. Crystal balls are probably similar to mirrors, so that’s not likely to count as its own thing. Or would it? I look at the table of contents first and realise that Kate has been holding out on me. There are so many ways to scry, and most of them never even crossed my mind. Of course, I didn’t know cloud scrying was a thing until Kate told me about it, either. I open the book on a random page:

Star scrying.

I have visions of myself and Leverett lying under the stars, enjoying each other’s company and seeing the future written in a constellation. I leaf back to the book’s introduction and read that scrying isn’t about telling the future but about listening to your higher self, spirit guide, unconscious—whatever you want to call it. So there goes that idea. Didn’t Kate say something similar about tarot, too?

I go back to the pages on star scrying. It’s about observing the night sky. It’s about seeing patterns and shapes in the invisible lines between the stars, in the dark void in between. Not like constellations, though—the book specifically states that they are their own thing.

It’s a shame I live in an area with so much light pollution. I bet Anton doesn’t have to worry about that out here. To me, all this feels massive. All Anton needs to do to see the night sky better is turn off the lights. If I do that and our neighbours keep theirs on, it doesn’t make a difference. Maybe I can convince Leverett to take me into the countryside one night, just so I can try this? But I don’t have a good enough reason to ask him. Kate’s the one who’s teaching me Magick 101. It makes more sense to ask her.

I make a note of the book’s title on my phone and put it back before I forget where it lived. There’s nothing specific I’m looking for in the encyclopaedia, so I’m aimlessly browsing the pages. It’s much older than the one I bought. If there’s anything in here about who’s after me... But it would take forever to find anything useful. I’d need to read every single entry to be sure, and this book is big. Over two thousand pages. Unless Anton lets me borrow it, I’ve no chance in hell of finding the info I want. And it sounded like Anton was already looking into it for us, anyway. He knows where everything is in here—at least I assume he does—so if he didn’t find anything... what hope do I have, with all these untitled shelves?

Something rustles behind me.

I turn around. ‘Back already?’

But it’s not Leverett or Anton. It’s Chiara.

And I’m all alone with her.

She gives me a predatory smile. ‘Miss me?’

My heart jolts, but I do my best to put a dismissive frown on my face. ‘I thought you were someone else.’

I want to ignore her and get back to the book, but something tells me that turning my back on her would be a terrible idea. She won’t hurt me, though. Leverett said vampires respect each others’... what, friends at best? Property at worst. Either way, I can only hope that she respects the same rules like he said she does.

The smile leaves her eyes first. Her lips thin soon after. ‘Don’t pretend I’m not here, human. You think you’re so special, don’t you?’ She takes slow steps towards me. I can’t help feeling like a cornered animal. ‘Look at you in your pretty dress, with your back straight like you belong with us. But you’re a human, silly girl. You’re nothing more than a temporary toy. You’ll die, and he’ll forget all about you long before that. Unless...’

Her nails lengthen and sharpen slightly. I try not to gulp. I won’t show her that she is, in fact, bloody terrifying.

Leverett said to shout for him, but that would only prove her point that I am nothing. Maybe it’s petty of me, but I refuse to let her think she’s won anything.

I stand, straighten my back, push out my chest and square my shoulders, and look her straight in the eyes when I say, ‘What do you want? Jealous that Leverett is here with a silly little human rather than with you? Because I don’t think he likes you.’

Her eyes turn murderous. ‘Do you have any idea how easily I could kill you?’

My legs are shaking, but I will them to steady. ‘Uh-huh. I’m not strong or fast, certainly not compared to you. You could kill me in any number of ways. But you won’t, because your scent is in this room now. If Leverett finds my body and smells you near it, he will hunt you down.’

I don’t actually know that he would. It’s clear that he doesn’t get along with her, but he has known her for a very long time. And she’s right: humans die. Our lifespans are nothing next to a vampire, a fairy, or most of the Veiled, in fact. And I really am weak and slow. I give her a sad smile, because I realise all the reasons why Leverett would never be with me. What could I possibly give him?

‘He would have to find you first,’ Chiara hisses. ‘I could cut you up and hide every piece in another room—in another corner of this country, even. I could throw you over the balcony. I could—’

‘Hit a nerve, did I? You sure are arguing a lot for someone who’s so superior to me. Did you just come here to show off or did you want something?’

I realise I’ve gone too far when she grows the nails on both her hands into claws. I don’t even have time to breathe in once before she throws me onto the table and presses a sharp nail to my neck.

‘Not everyone here is delighted to see you, you disgusting waste of flesh. I can mask my scent better than you can imagine.’ I want to struggle against her, roll out from under her grip, but I’m not in a position to move. Her nails are a little too stab-happy at my throat. ‘If I don’t want Leverett to know it was me, he won’t even know I was in this house. You—’

‘That’s quite enough, Chiara,’ someone I can’t see says. ‘We don’t tolerate violence against our guests, and this human is a guest. Get away from her before I throw you out.’

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