The Library of Shadows, page 25
Este’s life flashed before her eyes, and it had a Tony Award–winning soundtrack.
“She left already,” Arthur said instead of ratting her out so that he could be a shoo-in for Erik in The Phantom of the Opera. Este sucked a breath in through her teeth, relieved. “I heard she was going skiing at Sugarbush for fall break.”
Ives rolled her eyes and angled back toward her office. “You’re not half the actor you think you are. Tell Este that I’m waiting for her. All other students must leave the Lilith immediately.”
“It isn’t working,” Posy whispered over Este’s shoulder. “What do we do?”
Bryony pushed out a stiff breath. She straightened the shoulders of her coveralls, smoothed down her hair. “I’m going in.”
Este’s mouth fell open. “Bryony, what are you—”
But she was gone, steering across the open floor with her head high.
“Head Librarian Ives,” she said too loudly. Her tone kicked into the snotty, entitled cadence Este and Posy had first heard at the Safety and Security office. “I believe my parents donate good money to this school so that the lights stay on. Wait until my mother hears about this.”
“Dolores Pritcher is the least of my worries,” Ives snarked.
Just as Ives was about to close the door, Bryony said, “I know where Este is.”
Ives inched the door open wider. “Is that so?”
With their efforts combined, Arthur and Bryony lured Ives away from her open doorway. The door inched closed behind her, and Este clutched Mateo’s hand as they sprinted toward the office. Shepherd jammed the end of his lacrosse stick into the doorway at the last second, saving it from latching shut.
The office dripped in golden light from a menagerie of candles. The only lights left on in the entire library. Lopsided stacks of books, wrinkled papers, dried droplets of spilled ink covered every inch of her desk. The desperate searching of a desperate woman. She hadn’t known the pages were missing until Este handed her the book back.
“No offense,” Posy said as she wandered through the amber alcove, “but I don’t see an elevator.”
“Look again.” Mateo paced toward the wooden hatch on the wall and tapped his knuckles against it. A low-end echo responded. The sound of an empty elevator shaft.
Este had seen it during every meeting, but it wasn’t anything special. The Lilith was filled with hidden doors and secret passageways, so she hadn’t given it much thought. In the corner, a small brass latch clamped it shut. The key was surely dangling from Ives’s wrist right now.
“Letter opener?” Mateo asked.
She lifted the gold tool from Ives’s desk and slotted it into the hole. She was practically a professional locksmith by now. The mechanism inside clicked as pins moved into place, and the door loosened enough for Este to scrape her fingernails beneath the ledge and pry it open.
“You call that an elevator?” Shepherd asked.
Inside, a book trolley sat on rusted wheels. The dumbwaiter was only wide enough to fit a single cart, a box with an old-fashioned pulley system installed as an easy way to transport books in and out of the spire. The rope was frayed, which was not the most reassuring.
“Our chariot has arrived,” Este said to Mateo.
They dragged the cart out of the elevator, trying and failing to keep its clanging wheels quiet. Este folded herself into the plywood box first, her back against the flimsy board, and Mateo followed. There was nothing to hold on to, and they had to hope the old joists didn’t decide to give out.
The machine groaned as Shepherd and Posy wound the rope around their wrists and pulled. The cart lurched along the guide rails with each tug, and the light from the office was lost behind the stone walls of the chute. The weight of everything waiting for her, whether salvation or certain death, flattened against Este’s ribs until each breath burned.
“You okay, Logano?” Mateo asked, nudging his shoulder against hers. In the lightless chute, she couldn’t follow the lines of his mouth, but the lift of his smile was self-evident.
For a moment, there was only the sound of aching metal not up to current building codes. The rope creaked but didn’t split. Blood rushed through Este’s head, pumped by her weary heart.
She raked her teeth across her bottom lip. “What will happen when we get upstairs? To you? To us?”
When the pages pressed back against the book’s spine, would the ghosts earn a second chance at life? Would she get lodged in the in-between, stuck in the same collegiate purgatory? Or would their souls go on once and forever toward the same peace her dad had found?
“I’m not sure.” His hand found the soft bend in her neck, thumb tracing the line of her jaw as he nudged her to face him. “But whatever it is, I’m by your side.”
Don’t wait to tell him. But she couldn’t form the three simple syllables.
Not because they weren’t true but because the dumbwaiter thudded against the machinery at the top of the elevator shaft, and the words died on her lips.
Thirty-One
The first time Este saw the spire, it had been a sparkling wonderland, shimmering in moonlight and fragrant with a million night-sweet blooms. Now, the magic had vanished. The spire was a carcass—book spines, limbs of rivean ivy, stone-cold flesh gone stiff with rigor mortis.
Shelf after shelf, Este and Mateo breezed past the antiques and artifacts toward the bookcase near the heart of the spire. Her frantic thoughts were drowned out by the din of rain against the windows. As they rounded the last corner, a pit formed in her stomach.
She splayed her hand against the glass, no concern for the fingerprint smudges she’d leave behind. The shelf where The Book of Fades should’ve been proudly situated was completely and totally empty. Este’s hand twinged toward the pages in her pocket, their one chance at redemption rendered useless.
“I believe I have what you’re looking for,” Ives said behind them.
The head librarian leaned against one of the shelves, a hand slipped in her pocket and hips cocked in a stance so much like Mateo’s that Este couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen the resemblance sooner. In her other arm, Ives cradled the gilded tome that should’ve rested on the empty shelf.
“The matching outfits were a bit of a dead giveaway, don’t you think?” Ives asked, words toxic behind a saccharine smile. “And Este, there are debts to be paid. You of all people ought to know why.”
Their plan hadn’t worked. Somehow, Ives had managed to shake off Arthur and Bryony and hightail it up the spire staircase to cut them off. Este felt a twist in her chest, hoping they weren’t hurt.
“That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?” Este clenched the papers in her pocket to remind herself they were real. That she’d made it this far, and she’d do whatever it took to make this right without anyone else getting hurt. “That’s why you offered me a full-ride scholarship to Radcliffe Prep. So that I’d come back, and you could skin me alive like you did all the others.”
“Like I’ve always said, you have a legacy to fulfill.” Ives tossed a look over her shoulder, eyes glinting. She strutted through the stacks, heading toward the center of the spire, and Este and Mateo followed. They skidded to a stop at the carpet dais leading to the high-backed chair.
“Enough, Lilith,” Mateo said. His voice had gone deep, serious. In different circumstances, it would admittedly be kind of hot. “You have to end this. You can’t live like this forever.”
Ives sank into the black tufted chair at the middle of it all. Her rightful place as Heir. As she flipped through the pages of The Book of Fades, shadows congregated in the corners of the ceiling and sank to the floors. She ran a painted nail along the vellum page, tapping the ink. With a smile as sharp as a silver dagger, Ives said, “Certainly I can, and certainly I will.”
The temperature plummeted, raising the hair on Este’s arms. The Fades’ song broke through the shadows first. Este pinched her palm to keep her grounded as their hypnotic lullaby swirled through the spire. All three of their grotesque bodies shifted into view behind a layer of black clouds.
The Fades were supposed to be downstairs, preoccupied with the ghosts, but their forms reappeared in the shadows at the edges of the room. Este thought they would lunge for her, wrap their bony hands around her throat and finish the job once and for all. Instead, they flitted through the bookcases, reprising their tired tune.
“This isn’t a game. Lives are at stake.” Mateo’s jaw clenched, mouth set firm.
“Believe me, I know.” Ives swirled Lilith’s sapphire ring around her finger. Her sapphire ring. “You think I don’t remember watching Mother and Father grow ill while you promenaded around campus? I had to care for them, and you only cared for yourself.”
Mateo’s throat bobbed. “I know I didn’t show it, but losing them was difficult for me, too.”
Ives feigned a yawn. “I’m sure you think so. I watched the light fade from their eyes, and I swore I would never let what happened to them happen to me.” She kicked her legs over the arm of her chair, eyes locked on Este’s. “Let’s make this easy. I’m doing you a favor. You wanted to work in the library so badly, and now you’ll have the next millennium to study the archives. Isn’t this fantastic news?”
“You know they invented Botox, right? Maybe give that a try instead of sacrificing people,” Este snapped.
“Simmer down. You’ve done well. You returned The Book of Fades before midterms like I asked. The only problem is that it’s missing a few important pages. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
“Why would I tell you?” Este sneered.
Ives tapped her nails impatiently against her chin, groaning. “I really didn’t want to have to do this.”
Waves of black swelled as the Fades inched closer. The air evaporated from Este’s lungs. Plumes of ink spun through the spire, as smothering as smoke in a wildfire, but a frozen bodice tightened around Este’s chest.
There was more to the fire of October 1917 than Este had realized, more that her dad had pieced together, that his clues were trying to tell her. He’d been pointing her to it the way the statue of Robin Radcliffe pointed to the evening star. When her dad had discovered the truth about Ives, he’d vanished from campus before she could add him to the library’s collection of souls. But before he’d left, he scribbled a passage from The Book of Fades on the back of a newspaper headline describing the blaze. It wasn’t a coincidence.
What burned, come dawn, will not be lost. What buried roots will grow,
and when the ink fades, we will see what only love returns.
“Of course,” Este whispered, punctuated with a breathy laugh. And then, louder, she said, “Ives, wait. You’re right. I do know something about the missing pages.”
In her periphery, Mateo’s mouth was fixed in a fine line. Almost imperceptibly, he shook his head. A warning she couldn’t afford to heed.
Ives spared a petty laugh. “Convenient timing. Do share.”
“After three decades, the Fades returned this fall. But it didn’t have anything to do with me.” She forced her chin high, her words steady, no matter how much her hands shook as she pulled the timeworn pages from her pocket. Shadows crawled up her legs, a layer of darkness along the floorboards emanating from the Fades. Reaching for the pages. “My dad stole a chapter from The Book of Fades, and I brought it back. That’s why the Fades are here. You said you needed the book in one piece. Without these, they’re nothing, and so are you.”
Fury lit behind Ives’s eyes. She pointed a single, stiff finger toward Este’s chest, and the Fades roared, piercing notes like banshee screams rising to the rafters. She snarled, “Hand those over immediately.”
The Fades’ vicious snarls didn’t give Este a moment to hesitate. She crumpled the pages into a ball and tossed them toward the stacks. Ives launched out of her chair and dove to the floorboards, spreading the damp paper out, smoothing them flat with her palms.
“You once told me to destroy The Book of Fades with hellfire and brimstone,” Este said to Mateo, loud enough that Ives, even as she rushed to puzzle-piece the final pages back into The Book of Fades, was certainly listening. “I wish I’d listened to you then.”
Unlacing their fingers, she dipped into the silk inlay of his pocket until she found a small rectangle, five smooth sides and one sandpaper. Matches. Exactly where he always carried them.
Este pressed her lips to his ear. “Do you trust me?”
She pulled away enough to see the cut of his eyes, diamond sharp and just as dazzling. Rimmed with heavy lashes, his irises webbed with navy. She smelled cedar smoke and fresh ink and felt the touch of his fingers on the pulse point of her wrist when he whispered, “Explicitly.”
God, she hoped this worked.
“It’s all connected. The book, the pages, the ghosts you’ve created,” Este said to Ives. “Tell me, what good is a story without a last page?”
She struck the match, a seed of light blooming. With her other hand, Este dragged one final folded page from her pocket. She lifted her sights to Ives—she wanted to see the look on Lilith Radcliffe’s face when she realized her tutelage had come to an end.
“Este Logano, I assure you that you will not live to see tomorrow.” Ives stood now, flanked by the Fades.
Este raised a brow, a smirk ghosting over her lips. She was as good as dead anyway. “I’m afraid your loan is long overdue, Lilith, and it’s time you pay the fines.”
All she needed was one ember.
Fire licked along the bottom edge, smoking against the damp parchment. Este floated the flame beneath the page, praying for it to light. Her heart buried itself behind her navel, sinking, sinking with every passing second it didn’t catch.
The paper was soaked from the thunderstorm. No matter where she held the spitting flame, it sputtered. The match burned out before the last page could spark. The page slipped out of Este’s fingertips.
There were more—more matches to strike, more chances to burn—but there wasn’t more time to spare. Ives plucked the page from the ground, wearing a grin like a scythe. The Fades gravitated around Ives’s makeshift throne like worker bees to their queen. The Book of Fades was whole again. Ives’s power restored.
With a flick of her hand, Ives once again had the Fades obeying her every command. She pointed a manicured finger straight toward Este’s beating heart and said, “Do your worst, ladies.”
Este fumbled for another light but she slid the box open too quickly and spilled matchsticks over the floor. They disappeared behind the Fades’ veil of darkness and skittered across the stones. She dove after them, hands pressed blindly to the cobbles, each breath coming more ragged than the last.
“Este, dear.” Mateo crouched to the floor next to her, but she didn’t look up. This couldn’t be how it ended—a fade-to-black credits roll overlaid with the Fades’ sweeping melody, calling her into an eternal rest.
“Este, Este. Stop.” Mateo’s hands wrapped around hers, cutting her search short. He folded them together, an anchor in the writhing sea of shade.
She saw it in his eyes, the same quiet concession Aoife must have worn when she chose to take the night shift. Mateo looked at her, calm and composed amidst a maelstrom, like they were the only two people in the world, or at least the only two who mattered.
“They’re too damp, but I-I’ll make it work.” Frantic, hurried breaths heaved her chest, but Mateo was steady.
“I’m so glad I got to meet you,” he said, smoothing a strand of hair behind her ear. “More than you know, and more than I deserve.”
The Fades in their Juicy Couture tracksuits and their sweet pea body spray and their a cappella theme song closed in, one 4/4 measure at a time. Mateo’s thumb swiped a gentle path along her jawline, and his lips brushed against the crease between her brows. “You’re the most exquisite girl I’ve ever met.”
“Mateo, I—” Her lips parted, primed to say the one thing that mattered most, but it was cut off with a shriek as a scarred hand wrapped around the collar of her coveralls, dragging her off the floor.
Este kicked against the Fade’s exposed midriff and her eternal belly button ring. It did nothing to deter the spirit who raised Este to eye level, forcing her to peer into the black caverns of empty sockets, an infinite, swirling darkness like cemetery soil on a closed casket.
The Fade dragged a skeletal finger down her cheek. The touch seared through her skin, white-hot pain flashing behind her eyes as a scream wretched from her lungs. As if the Fade wrapped her hand around Este’s throat, her airway blocked. Panic bubbled inside her chest, but there was no oxygen left.
The Fade was going to siphon her soul like she’d done all the others.
Then, something sparked in Este’s periphery.
Across the spire, Mateo pinched a match between his fingers, a lit orb of orange. In the other, he dangled the corner of The Book of Fades’s borrowing card over the flame. He must have stripped it from the back of the book while Ives was preoccupied with the missing chapter. It was dry. It would burn. But if he torched the tie that bound him to the Fades, what would it mean for his soul?
“Mateo!” Este screamed. It didn’t stop him.
First, there was smoke. Gunmetal rivulets that rose to the rafters. Then, the fire caught. Cinders dripped from Mateo’s fingers as the page disintegrated.
Mateo’s figure blurred in her vision as the Fade tugged and tugged at the very threads of her. But him, she wouldn’t let him out of her sight. Wouldn’t lose him. He smiled at her, a coy thing on his lips that sent her heart rate soaring. The Book of Fades would never be complete again.
“What have you done?” Ives shrilled.
But she wasn’t looking at Mateo. The pages underneath her hands curled at the edges as flames skittered over the parchment. She couldn’t stamp them out, trying and failing to smother them with her feet. The fire burned wild, wicked. The match in Mateo’s hand had fizzled out, but the pages acted like he’d taken the spark straight to them.
The Fade holding Este hostage hissed. Her grip loosened enough that Este wriggled out, dropping to the stone floors in an aching pile, gasping for air. Everything tasted like smoke. The Fades’ familiar haunting song faded into minor scale runs, and they retreated toward Ives.
