Witch's Sorrow, page 20
part #1 of Alice Skye Series
The library was the oldest in Britain, with the most amount of literature under one roof since before the Great War. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined each wall, curving in great arrangements to create a chaotic labyrinth of books, tapestries and paintings. The place smelt dusty with a hint of wood polish, which wasn’t completely unpleasant.
Wooden benches and tables were placed neatly in the centre, underneath the glass ceiling Alice knew to be several floors above. Various busts were randomly placed around the different floors, everything from the monarchy to authors such as Shakespeare and Jane Austen to Winston Churchill and Charlie Chaplin. Most were in reasonable condition depending on their age, others were cracked and vandalised.
“Where do we start?” Sam asked nonchalantly, his hand brushing against the top of an armchair, the old brown leather cracked across the seat, the cushion long gone.
“Oh, erm…” she hesitated. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. Biting her lip she looked around, hoping an idea would spring to mind. “What about simply starting at ‘C’?”
“And look for what?”
“Cults?” She shrugged. “I’m interested in the ideologies behind The Becoming.”
“The Becoming?”
“Yes, have you heard of it before?”
“No.” A frown. “This isn’t the normal thing you do Alice,” he moaned as she began leading them towards the bookshelf headed ‘C’. “Daemons, cults. It’s pretty hard core compared to your usual stuff.”
“My usual stuff hasn’t helped me with my dreams, have they?”
“You mean your nightmares? The ones that have been worse since you started this?” He picked up a book, slamming it back in its slot after he read the title. “You’re hurting yourself and you don’t even see it.”
“Has it not occurred to you that maybe I need to break before I can grow?” Before I understand. “You would do anything you could to find your dad. To get back at him.”
“That isn’t the same.” A low growl, his amber eyes glowing.
“The hell it is,” she hissed back. “I need to find out what happened that night, and this research is helping. Working with Rex is helping.” She felt her voice quiver. “Instead of questioning me, can’t you support me?” She met his eyes. “I support you.”
He held her gaze. “I do support you.” He grabbed her into a hug, his chin resting on her head. “I can’t lose you.”
“You won’t.” She hugged him tightly before stepping back.
A nod towards the shelf, his usual mischievous smile in place. “So, where would you like to start?”
“All I have to go with is that cult, The Becoming.” She started to scan the hundreds if not thousands of books along the shelves.
“How are you sure it’s even a cult?” He leant against the opposite shelf, arms crossed.
“Just a guess, what else could it be?” She selected a book titled, ‘Age old Cults affecting modern society’ and began scanning through the pages.
“What else have you got to go on?”
She slammed the book shut, “Not a lot. I have the autopsy reports showing possible signs of Daemon transitions, but it isn’t based on solid evidence. I can’t even compare them to the wolves because Rex didn’t get any autopsies performed.” She blew out in frustrated, looking for any other books that could give an insight into a mysterious cult that could, or could not help.
“This is why I’m not a Paladin, it seems boring when you spend your time in mind-numbing libraries.” His attention wandered as Alice continued looking through the books. “You found anything yet? How long is this going to take?”
“I said you didn’t have to come,” she huffed, her own patience becoming thin.
“We’ve already discussed this.”
“And I have already told you, I’m fine.” Annoyed she grabbed several books from the shelf, stacking them into Sam’s arms before grabbing some more. “Let’s take these to a table it’ll be easier to study them.” Back stiff she walked to an empty wooden table towards the centre of the atrium, directly under the glass roof. The table was marked beyond redemption, a green and gold plastic lamp was drilled into the centre giving some artificial light that didn’t seem to have an off option.
“Here.” Sam thumped the books down, sitting himself at the edge. “I think I have something for you,” he smirked as he flicked through one of the books.
“You do?”
Sam dramatically cleared his throat. “’His bulging cock penetrated as she moaned his name,’” he read loudly. “‘Leaning down he kissed along her throat as he increased his thrusts, her tunnel squeezing his thick shaft…’”
“BLOODY HELL!” Alice knocked the book out of his hand, her face burning as she looked to see if anyone overheard. Sam just chuckled, his dimples dancing across his cheeks. “If you’re not going to help, leave me alone.” When he didn’t answer she glanced up at him, his attention on one of the aisles as a woman wearing a dangerously short skirt bent over to pick something from the floor. “Sam,” she called. “Sam,” Still no answer. “Earth to Samion.”
“Huh?” He reluctantly turned to her.
“I’m going to be sitting here a while, why don’t you go prowl somewhere else.”
“You sure?” His brows came together. “Okay, see you in a while.” He unsurprisingly walked towards the bent woman, one who was happily fluffing her dark hair and pouting her lips at the sudden attention. Rolling her eyes Alice picked up the next book, the title stating ‘Ancient art of magic the personification of cults.’
Flipping through the first few pages she frowned, the paper in poor condition with some sheets completely ripped out. A mixture of English, Latin, Gaelic as well as other languages she didn’t recognise filled the pages, seemingly nonsense. Squinting she tried to read the headings in English, stopping when she noticed ‘B.e.c.o’ before disappointingly seeing the rest of the word was smudged by ink.
Licking her dry lips she read the small print underneath, ‘For one to ‘Become’ age old one must sacrifice a vessel of clean magic. Doing so will give the bearer the ability to transcend into the next stage, giving unbelievable power over the darker arts, their body reflecting the great power bestowed on them by the mother of everything.’
Alice blinked, re-reading the passage over several times, trying to make sense. The passage stated it was written in ‘The Ancient Kingdom Third Century, now Europe.’
“Third century?” she mused to herself. “What was around in Europe in the third century?”
“Celts.” A light voice answered from behind her. Startled, Alice accidently pushed the book onto the floor, her mouth agape as the mystery man bent to gently pick it up. “Interesting read,” he mused, his voice musical. Taking a seat beside her he flicked back to the same page before reading the small paragraph. “Yes, it’s definitely the Celts, I believe specifically the druids.” He handed her back the book.
“Excuse me?” She cleared her throat as she stared at his eyes, purple iridescent orbs that matched the pastel of his shoulder length hair. She assumed he was a man, but she wasn’t actually sure, his features that of complete androgyny. Either way, it was definitely Fae.
“Look here,” he said as his long fingers traced across the passage, “It says ‘bestowed on them by the mother of everything.’ Druids worshipped nature, specifically mother Gaia who they, at least, used to believe was their source of magic. The time frame is around the same but your best bet would be to ask a druid.”
“Maybe.” The Fae was actually making a lot of sense. “If it was druids wouldn’t it state Great Britain rather than Europe?”
“Oh, so you know something about druids?” His iridescent eyes sparkled.
“Some. It also says in the same paragraph about ‘sacrificing a vessel of clean magic’. Druid’s are notoriously famous for their passiveness, peaceful people who gained their magic from the earth and atmosphere.”
“Passiveness?” The Fae laughed, the sound like little bells tinkling through the air. “When was the last time you met a passive druid? You can’t associate an entire race into an expectation. That’s the same as saying all witches own black cats, or all faeries eat small children.” He smiled, amused at his own joke.
“Okay, point made.”
“You’re also assuming the ‘vessel of clean magic’ is something sinister when it could easily be something as simple as a plant. There is nothing else in here to state otherwise.”
“You obviously know more than me on this subject.”
“I wouldn’t take it to heart, I’m a professor at the local University specialising in atmospheric magic. I have to know the basics of all magic based Breed’s to really understand how to take certain aspects of magic further,” the professor stated, his eyelashes the same pastel shade as his hair. “You a student? They have a study on the original history of magic based Breeds in the next semester. You could really benefit from it.”
“Oh, no I’m not. I’m just really interested in the history.”
“Alice, you find anything?” Sam walked over to the table, interrupting the Fae. “I tried to look for books about Daemon’s but couldn’t find anything.” His amber eyes narrowed to slits as he appraised the professor, his nostrils flaring as he tried to scent his Breed.
“Oh Sam, this is...” She didn’t know his name.
“Professor Luanou, but I’m afraid I must be going.” The Fae stood up, his black shirt and trousers reminding her more of something a sensei would wear rather than a university professor. “I must have made a mistake in suggesting you should attend the history of magic based Breed’s next semester. We do not tolerate any practitioners of the dark arts.” His eyes flashed to her numerous books about cults as well as the inappropriate erotica before he walked away.
“What is the faerie on about?” Sam frowned as he took the now vacant seat.
“Wait...” She called after him. “I DON’T PRACTICE BLACK MAGIC!” The professor didn’t acknowledge her statement. “I really don’t.” She sighed, noticing the audience of people watching her outburst.
“So what was that about?” Sam rolled a cigarette between his fingertips, the end creased as if he had stubbed it against something.
“He now thinks I’m studying black magic since you came over and mentioned the Daemon books.”
“Really?” Sam chuckled. “You at least find anything interesting?”
“A little. I think I found the description of The Becoming.” She turned the page so he could read, “And after speaking to the professor it does sound like something that’s druid in origin.”
“Druid? Like your Da?”
“Maybe. The professor made some solid comments but I would really need to ask another druid, other than my dad’s appreciation for nature I don’t know much about his history.”
“What about Overlord?”
“He might know something.” Dread was best friends with her father and being his age he must have some knowledge. She closed the books, stacking them up and putting them on a tray for the librarian to put back into place. “Did you say you found anything about Daemon’s?”
“Found nothing. The word Daemon is completely missing if the books were in alphabetical order.”
“I thought you were checking out the skirt girl?” She crossed her arms, smirking up at Sam.
“Aye, but it’s a complete turn off when my nose itches from the amount of glamour that Fae was wearing.” He reached up to scratch his nose as if it still was irritated. “So what now?”
Alice looked up at the clock on the wall. “We have time to pop to The Tower, might as well ask Dread the questions before Al gets to our place.”
“What about the Daemon books?”
“We will just ask on the way out.”
The clerk was right by the front entrance, the small queue having completely dissipated by the time they got there. The desk an oversized mahogany monstrosity, seeming even bigger than possible compared the frail old woman sitting behind.
“How may I help you, young lady?” she asked, her small eyes magnified through her thick circular glasses.
“I’m looking for anything to do with Daemons. We can’t seem to find anything.”
“Daemon’s?” Her eyes widened slightly. “Oh, let me check.” She tapped her keyboard. “I’m sorry but we do not keep those types of books here.”
“Really? We are in the biggest library I have ever seen and there isn’t one book about Daemon’s?” Sam asked dryly. “Bit weird don’t you think?”
“Have you checked under ‘D’ my dear?”
Alice tried to smile sweetly, ignoring the question. “We are looking more specifically into daemonic transitions.”
“I just told you we do not hold those sort of books here.”
“Well, where would we find those sort of books then?”
“Not here.”
“What about some history on them, maybe?” Alice asked, changing tactics.
“We have nothing like that here.” The woman’s voice was getting sterner.
“You didn’t check your computer,” Alice said sardonically, starting to lose her temper.
The old woman tapped one button. “Nothing.”
“I don’t understand why this is so difficult, we’re only interested,” Sam interjected.
“We don’t practice black magic.” Alice had never had to defend herself so much. “It’s just for a project we’re working on.”
“I have already said we do not have those types of books here.” She sniffed unpleasantly.
“Then where are they?”
“Not here. You shouldn’t even be looking at that sort of stuff. It’s dangerous.”
“What’s so dangerous about books?” Sam growled, “This is ridiculous.”
The woman’s eyes slowly bled into panic, the pulse in her throat beating visibly against her skin.
“What do you know about Daemons?” Alice asked as a heavy hand landed on her shoulder. Turning slightly she eyed the security guard. “Is there a problem here?”
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” the guard grumbled, his fingers digging in.
Sam swore in the background, snarling at his own personal security guard.
“Why? We haven’t done anything wrong.”
“If you don’t vacate the premises immediately, we will remove you.”
Smiling sweetly she removed the hand from her shoulder, “Fine.” Grabbing Sam’s forearm she escorted them through the exit.
“What a load of bullshit,” Sam shouted behind him.
Alice looked behind her shoulder, three security guards standing ominously near the entrance. The clerk was speaking in hushed tones into the phone at her desk, trying desperately not to make eye contact.
“What was that about?” Sam asked, turning his attention back to Alice as they stood under the alcove.
“She knows something.” Alice knew it, the look in the clerk’s eyes was pure panic as well as guilt. But what could make an old woman react in fear like that?
The Tower was busy as they made their way up to the forty-second floor, the noise and chaotic rumblings of her colleagues a pleasant comfort.
“It’s getting late.” Sam looked around the large room into all the different cubicles, eyes lighting up when he noticed the cat-themed novelty gifts he had gotten her over the years. “You have a date, remember.”
“It’s not a date.” Alice just sighed. “I’m not going to be long, you could have waited outside.” Sam had dated a few of her colleagues over the years, not one ended well.
“Oh, Alice.” A shrill voice called from beside her. “I see you haven’t been fired yet.” Michael swanned over wearing a green velvet jacket over an off-white shirt, his ginger hair had been recently cut just above his ears. “Shame,” he sniggered.
She did not have the patience for this. “Bye Mickey.” Moving past he grabbed her arm, pulling her against him, close enough she could smell the coffee on his tongue. Turning suddenly she broke his hold, stepping back just as Sam snarled past, his arm extended as he forced Mickey against the wall. “SAM, NO!”
“Now we’re gonna have a little talk,” Sam hissed directly into Michael’s face, claws erupting from his fingertips as he kneaded them across the sensitive skin of his throat.
“Alice,” Mickey choked, sweat dripping into his eyes. “Control your pussy.”
“Aye, pussy.” Sam purred low in his chest as he rubbed the side of his face against his. “You want to see what this pussycat can do?”
“Sam, please.” Alice caught his eye, the amber glowing to the point she could almost see the leopard looking back. He always did this, ever since they were kids he took it upon himself to be her protector, as if she couldn’t protect herself. Don’t do this. He isn’t worth it. She said with her eyes, not wanting Mickey to understand.
He hurt you. Sam replied in the same way.
There was only a handful of people she could have a wordless conversation with, have a strong enough bond to be able read their expression. Sam more than a brother to her, regardless of blood.
No one should be able to touch you like that. Years of abuse flashed across his eyes, uncontrollable pain before he calmed himself. She had never asked for details about his past, knowing only a small amount based on the history of scars decorating his back. A long time ago she decided she never would.
I’m not breakable.
No you’re fucking not. His eyes lost their electricity, the leopard still present but not running the show. With his face still pressed to Mickey’s he gently nipped his ear, purring at the flinch. “If you wanted my number precious, you should have just asked.” Pushing away he turned back towards the lifts, a cigarette already placed between his lips as he disappeared through the metal doors.
Mickey made an unrecognizable sound, sweat still pouring down his face. “I’m going to report him for that, assaulting a Paladin is a criminal offence.”
“I’m sure you will. Make sure to note how you grabbed me first.” Watching his face turn various shades of red she turned towards Dreads office, happily noticing the absence of his secretary, Barbie. Lifting her hand she knocked against his closed door. “Dread?” She called.
