“Well, I think I feel it,” Beatrix said. “Like you’re with me. It’s what drew me to you while I was still a raven and didn’t have my memory.”
Carrow turned to me. “This is the mystery that I want to get to the bottom of. If I could do this for her, then maybe I can do it for you.”
“Break the curse?”
She shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t understand how it could work. I just know that it could. And that this book”—she raised it—“has answers.”
“Did you read it all?”
“I couldn’t.” She flipped it open and showed me.
The text was indecipherable. More like tiny images of intricate shapes—not a language I’d ever seen.
“The whole thing is like this,” she said. “I want to take it back to Seraphia.”
“We’ll do that now.” I looked at her, unsure of how any of this would work. Were we even on the right path? My dream had made it clear that our time was short, and the afterworld beckoned.
10
Carrow
I looked at Beatrix, wondering what to do with her while Grey and I sought answers. She looked confused and worried. Mac had kindly offered to keep her company, but it seemed unfair to leave her here while there was so much outside my small flat. And I missed my friend.
“Want to see a bit of the city?” I asked.
Beatrix nodded, her expression lightening. “Yeah. I suppose I need to sort my life out, now that I have it back.”
“We’ll figure it out,” I said, unable to help looking back at Grey.
I could feel Beatrix watching the two of us, her radar going wild. She’d been my friend for so long that she knew when I liked a guy. And what I felt for Grey was far from something so simple and juvenile as like.
I grabbed my jacket and the book, making sure that Rasla’s seal was inside the jacket pocket. Together, we left the flat. At the street, Eve veered off for her shop, looking back twice at Beatrix, her brow creased with concern. There were hidden depths to Eve, and I was glad she’d felt comfortable enough to admit what she had.
Now we just needed to figure out my exact role and how I could use my strange skills to help Grey.
Mac, clever genius that she was, stuck close to Beatrix, pointing out the different sights around town. I remembered my first days there. My old friend would be having a hard time falling asleep tonight. Mac’s actions gave Grey and me a bit of privacy, and he joined me, walking close by my side.
“Thank you for the coffee,” I said.
“My pleasure.” He looked down at the book. “You truly think you have the ability to break the curse?”
“Yes.” I could feel it. “Or at least, I have the ability to fix our situation. I don’t know how, but my magic is screaming it. If only Seraphia can help decipher the book.”
We reached the library a few moments later.
Unlike the last times we’d visited, Seraphia was loitering outside the front door. She looked like she’d recently showered and put on fresh clothes, and her eyes looked well rested. She clutched a mug of tea and stared up at the clouds.
“She seems a bit more herself,” I said.
Grey nodded.
Seraphia caught sight of us and smiled. “How was the book?”
“Unexpected.” I stopped in front of her and removed it from my pocket. “It’s written in a language I don’t recognize.”
“Really?” She frowned. “I’d have assumed it would be English, given where you found it.”
“Me, too. But it’s not.” I opened it and showed her the strange scribblings. “Check it out. The writing is insane.”
She squinted at it, then gasped, her grip loosening on her mug. The ceramic cup slipped from her fingers, and Grey reached down, snagging it before it hit the ground.
“No way,” she breathed, reaching for the book with a trembling hand. I let her have it, and she raised it to her face. Quickly, carefully, she flipped through the pages, her jaw slackening. “I’ve never seen one of these before.”
“What is it?” I could feel Mac and Beatrix crowding close.
“Just a moment, and I’ll confirm my suspicions.” She turned and hurried into the library.
We followed, Beatrix gasping upon entrance. Seraphia raced to her worktable, winding her way through the shelves, and we hurried after her. She bent over the table, laying the book out flat and opening it to a random page. Quickly, she ducked under the table and disappeared.
I bent down to peer underneath, then spotted her opening a secret compartment set into the floor.
“I trust you,” she said. “Or you’d never see this.”
With a few deft maneuvers, she lifted up one of the wooden floorboards, and her hand trembled as she withdrew a box. The ornately carved wood gleamed with the patina of careful care. Quickly, she climbed out from under the table and set the box on the surface.
“Keep an eye on that,” she said, then disappeared between some shelves. Her voice drifted back. “I’ll only be a moment.”
I shared a look with the others, but before we could speak, she’d already returned, a key clutched in her hand. She slipped the key into the box, twisting it carefully. The lid popped open.
Carefully, she removed a stone from the box. It looked average enough, and I frowned. “What’s that?”
“Shh.” She hovered the stone right over the pages, standing so perfectly still that she was obviously holding her breath. The stone glowed gold, and she heaved a sigh. “Amazing.”
“What is it?” I leaned closer, trying to see whatever it was that she could see.
But nothing had changed about the book. It was still indecipherable.
“This isn’t quite a book. Not in the way you are used to.” She pointed to the words. “And this isn’t another language. It was written in English.”
“So it’s code?”
“Not exactly. It’s a spell. The book was written in English, and then enchanted so that the reader could go back in time to visit the events that were written about.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not.” She looked up, her face bright with excitement. “These books are incredibly rare. We had several in our collection, but they were stolen ages ago. This is the first I’ve ever seen with my own eyes.”
“How do we use it, then?” I asked.
“Come, I’ll show you.” She turned, leading us deeper into the library. We wound our way between shelves, getting lost in the recesses of the cavernous building. It grew darker and gloomier, the air chilling.
Finally, we reached a section of bookshelves that appeared empty. The wooden shelves formed a narrow aisle that led into the darkness. A faint glitter filled the air between the shelves, and I stepped toward it.
Seraphia reached out and gripped my arm. “Stop.”
I halted immediately, staring at the space with rapt attention.
“The library no longer has any of those books,” she said. “But we still have our portal. If you carry the book between those shelves, you’ll be taken back in time to whenever the book was written.”
“For real, back in time?” Beatrix asked, skepticism in her voice.