“You are meddling in things beyond your control, girl,” the Book scolded. “These are not matters for a mortal girl, even one who tastes lies as well as you.”
I cringed as the Book let out a choking laugh.
“What are you?” I asked, unable to conceal my horror.
“The make or manner of my being is none of your concern. Perhaps you ought to ask yourself why you’re drawn to things that only spell trouble.”
I opened my mouth to retort, but the words died in my throat.
Who’s to say he won’t destroy you in the process?
With a gasp, the Book slammed shut, catching my fingers between the sharp metal encasing the cover’s outer edges. Too late, I yanked my hand back, hissing as I nursed my stinging fingertips. As it turned out, the book could bite after all. TheBook of Erebosgave one final rasping hiss, trembling against its leather bindings in unmistakable agitation before I shoved it gingerly into my bag.
14
“You know,” I said, heaving theBook of Erebosonto the veranda wall next to Casimir outside Magnolia Hall the following morning, “there were several opportunities during our conversation the other night when you might have told me exactly what this little assignment of yours entailed.”
It hadn’t taken me long to find him. It would’ve been hard to mistake that dark silhouette on the empty veranda, the edges of his black jacket set starkly against the silvery sky. Leaning languidly against the wall, his attention was entirely fixed on the book in his hands. He stood with such stoic stillness that he may as well have been made of stone. He didn’t even flinch at the thud of the Book as I’d dropped it beside him.
I continued my diatribe. “You might’ve said, ‘Hey Farrow’,” I imitated his drawling voice, “just so you know, that hideous book you’re lugging around might start speaking to you in a creepy fucking voice!’”
Casimir finally dragged his eyes from his own book to shoot me a lazy smile from his slouching stance against the wall. Today his eyes were an ethereal amber color, like liquid honey, though perhaps that was just an effect of the overcast sky. Amethyst half-moons shadowed the circles beneath his eyes, and I wondered what the hell he’d been doing all night, whether he’d slept at all while I’d been ruminating over everything the Book had revealed. My bizarre behavior these past few weeks had done little to assuage Gwen’s growing suspicions over what secrets I might be keeping from her.
All evening, she kept shooting me suspicious glances from her perch on the bed. I couldn’t even blame her, not after I’d so abruptly ditched her in the Labyrinth earlier that afternoon. I found some comfort in the likelihood that Gwen’s suspicions over my strange behavior had everything to do with Casimir and very little to do with a decades-long power struggle involving a magical Order infiltrating the school. I quieted my anxieties about being a bad friend by reminding myself that dishonesty was the cost of protecting Gwen from harm. Knowledge was dangerous, and anyone who learned what the Order was up to might be perceived as a threat.
Casimir gave me a fleeting once-over, appraising me briefly before he fixed his attention back on his book, though not before I caught the twitch of amusement on his lips.
“I take it you’ve had a chance to familiarize yourself with our little sprite?” He smirked.
I glared at him, still irritated that he hadn’t warned me. “What are you talking about?”
“Didn’t the Book ever tell you its name?” His eyes glinted with mischief.
I shook my head.
“It calls itself the Vrag Kigna. It’s a dead language, but it roughly translates toSprite of Kign.”
I arched a skeptical brow. “TheSprite of Kign?” I repeated. “You’re telling me that this book is possessed?”
His smile only grew more wicked. “I can’t say for certain, but the rumor is that an ancient spirit has been trapped within the confines of the Book for centuries. Maybe longer.”
I shuddered. “No wonder it’s so… evil.”
Casimir shrugged. “I wouldn’t recommend keeping it under your pillow, at any rate,” he deadpanned.
“Where the hell did you even find it?”
“Who says I found it?” As he traced a finger over the mottled cover, his smile faded. “Trust me, you really don’t want to know.”
“Whatever that means,” I muttered under my breath.
He sighed and gracefully pushed off from the wall. “So,” he said brusquely. “Did you coax the sprite into giving you some answers?”
“Hardly.” I paused as a group of giggling students passed directly behind us, heading toward the grounds. When they’d passed, I asked, “When were you going to tell me you’re a Darkseer?”
Ever since theBook of Ereboshad let that little truth slip, I’d been waiting for the opportunity to catch him off guard.
He met my gaze unflinchingly. “I didn’t think it was important.”