She snorts. “My, aren’t you a clever one? What gave it away? The locked gate or the word ‘forbidden?’”
“Ruby, I need the library. You know, the place where we won’t get expelled for entering.”
“No,” she corrects smugly. “You need here. Assuming you still want to discover a way for Rhaegar to win the Nocturus?”
My eyes widen. How did she know that?
With a maniacal grin, she adds, “Unless you’re too scared to break a few rules, human?”
“Pfft.” I roll my eyes. “Where do we start?”
She swirls her hand in the air and a bright golden orb appears, floating just above her.
With my sprite lit up like a living flashlight, I search for the section labeled, Ceremonial Magic. A part of me wants to laugh at how different my life is now.
Three months ago, I was dead broke, desperate, and breaking into warehouses . . . now I’m still dead broke, desperate, and breaking into a library while using a tiny person as a flashlight.
I guess some things stay the same, after all.
When Ceremonial Magic proves to be a dead end—and also incredibly boring—I move on to Enhancing Your Power the Natural Way. Another dead end. The next section, The Forbidden Arts, is interesting only because I wonder why they don’t teach it in class—but it’s not helpful.
Ruby yawns above me, her little light bobbing as she wavers in the air. Afraid she’ll fall asleep midair and plummet to her death, I settle her on my shoulder and move on to the very last section.
A half hour later, with my sprite’s snores serenading me, I find a book without a spine covering. Curious, I pull the leather-bound tome from the shelf and search for a title. The front cover is missing, and the parchment feels as if it will crumble at the touch.
My heart leaps when I read the title page.
Histories of the Nocturus, from the Winter Wars until the Dark War.
“Gotcha.” I’m so excited that I fist pump the air, waking my sprite.
“What in the Fae hells?” she screeches. She nestles back on my shoulder, her eyes drifting closed . . . when they pop back open.
Alarm flickers across her face. “Do you smell that?”
The moment she mentions smell, my nose begins to pick up something. A fetid, dying odor. Like something dead is trapped beneath the floorboard. Except the rank odor is only growing stronger.
Ruby zips above my head, still sniffing the air. Then she hisses, “Deamhan,” and whips out a miniature dagger with a jeweled hilt. “Come meet your fate, deamhan!”
“Ruby, what’s a deamhan?” I demand just as the sound of something heavy stomps outside the library. Heavy and dragging. Each ominous thud shakes the floorboards and sends dust flying off shelves. A low, gravely bellow splits the air, and my gut clenches.
Ruby’s lilac eyes are big as peas. “Orc!”
26
By the loud noises, I was expecting the orc to be big, but not can’t-fit-through-the-freaking-door big. Ruby and I are watching from behind a bookshelf as the orc tries to duck under the doorway into the forbidden library. But it’s not just a matter of his looming height.
There’s no way his enormous frame will fit.
“Nothing in here for you, big guy,” I whisper. “Move along.”
The ropy muscles of the orc’s neck strain as he literally tries to cram his way through.
Not the brightest bulb, are you, bud?
He’s even more hideous than I imagined. Beady, all-black eyes blink from beneath a huge, overhanging brow, and an underbite sends his lower fangs curling all the way to his upper lip. Pointed ears shorter and more jagged than a Fae’s stick out from a bald head. His flesh looks rotten, all ashy and green-tinged.
With a frustrated howl, his head disappears from the doorway.
Ruby shoots into the air, waving her dagger. “That’s right, you hideous, wart-faced orc! You don’t want a piece of this.”
And then a huge boom shreds the air as the orc smashes into the doorway in a burst of dust and debris. I flinch as jagged chunks of stone zoom by my head. His stench floods the room.
Gag me.
When I peer back into the library, I see the doorway is now a giant, gaping hole. The orc’s enormous body stands near the first bookshelf, dust swirling around him. Tilting his giant head, he begins to sniff the air.
“Oberon’s luck,” Ruby mutters. “I thought for sure I scared him off.”
Add overconfidence to my sprite’s ever-growing list of negative attributes.
We both duck low as quiet descends. My heart rams my ribcage, my fingertips numb as adrenaline funnels all my blood to my main organs.
The orc roars, and my heart flip-flops. Shivering, I peek through a hole in the books just in time to see the orc lift a club the size of a full-grown adult human. Spikes longer than my hand poke out from its wooden surface.
Spikes, for Fae’s sake.
We’re so dead.
I hold my breath as he smashes the weapon into the bookshelf on the end of the row. The impact is so big I feel it in my bones. Books and wood splinters fly all around us. My mouth goes paper-dry.
One thought flashes in my head: We need to get out of here.
Afraid any noise will alert the orc to our location, I motion Ruby to run toward the door, using the bookshelves as cover.
“What?” she whisper-yells. “You need to pee?”
“No!” I whisper, throwing up my hands. I shake my head while planting a finger over my lips. But it’s too late. The parquet wood floor trembles and creaks as the orc approaches, sniffing and making animalistic grunts.
A quick glance and I nearly die from fright. The orc is on the other side of the shelf, close enough I can make out the black dots flecking his green skin, the frayed leather pants he wears. Each desperate breath sends noxious odors funneling down my throat.
The sound of a deep inhalation fills the air. Crap.
I grab a wood splinter—the only weapon I can find—and motion to Ruby to split up. Run on the count of three, I mouth. One, two—
Ruby darts away before three, a war cry screaming from her lips. She makes it five feet before a hand the size of a basketball shoots through the top shelf, sending books flying, and snatches her.
Dammit.
Her curses flood the air. My legs urge me to run. To flee. I imagine shooting down the aisle to safety. He’s distracted. It’s not like he’s going to eat her—
“Tasty thing,” a deep, booming voice comments, the sound like two boulders smashing together. “I will crush your head like a grape and crunch your tiny bones between my teeth.”
Oh, hell.
Mustering the remnants of my courage, I jump out into the open. “Hey, Ugly! Let her go.”
The orc’s olive-green brow furrows, deep lines converging. “You.” He sniffs again as if confirming something. “You,” he repeats.
With a growl, he tosses Ruby aside and lunges for me. I dart left and make a break for the door.
I make it two whole freaking feet before fingers like stone wrap around my waist. The ground disappears—he’s lifting me! I twist in his hand enough to face him. Hot, rancid air blows over my face as he appraises me with a hungry look. “Can’t eat. Must take to him. Can’t eat, but want to eat.”