Its eerie laughter sent a shiver skittering across the back of my neck. I fought back a huff of frustration. “Who was the last Keeper to serve the Queen and council in Ethervale? I demanded” “Who did they name as their Heir?”
No writing appeared on the blank page, but the voice crooned, “I have answered your questions, and yet I receive nothing in return.”
I faltered. “What do you want?”
I wasn’t sure what I expected the Book to demand of me. But it definitely wasn’t what it asked for.
“Bring me a lock of his hair. I wish to possess a relic of the Darkseer.”
I sat up straight. I hadn’t realized how far I’d been leaning over the Book. “First you taunt me, tell me I’m weak, warn me how dangerous Casimir is, and now you want me to give you a lock of his hair?” I wrinkled my nose in disgust. “No way, choose something else.”
The Book gave a disgruntled hiss. “If you cannot complete this simple task, then perhaps you are not worth my time.”
“But—”
“Bring me a lock plucked from the Darkseer’s head. Or don’t bother coming back at all.”
I growled in frustration.
“And know this, mortal girl. I will know if you try to deceive me.”
“Wait!” I interjected. “What about the Heir? Would the Keeper’s Heir know how to stop the ritual?”
“You are grasping at shadows, mortal girl.”
“Just tell me who the last Keeper was,” I begged with increasing desperation. If I could only find the Heir—talk to them—I might be able to use their secrets as leverage against the Order. “Please, just tell me who was tasked with guarding the council’s secrets?—”
“Remember, girl, Knowledge is seeing with both eyes open,” the voice trilled.
My blood ran cold at the warning—myfather’swarning. The Book couldn’t possibly have heard that phrase before, but perhaps the sprite read minds?
“I will tell you only this.Beware eyes of venom, the winding coil’s twist, and death’s slithering kiss.”
Before it shut up for good, the Book imparted one last piece of advice in that rasping, childlike trill. “If you were smart, Little Arrow, you would flee. I’d run from him if I were you.”
And with that, dark ink spurted across the pages, spraying me with wet gobs of black liquid. I gasped and sputtered in surprise, spitting a mouthful of bitter ink onto the floor.
“What the fuck?” I choked out. Toweling off the worst of the inky mess from my face and neck, I ran to the bathroom to vigorously wash my tongue, but the taste of ink lingered, no matter how many mouthfuls of water I gargled. I silently thanked the universe that I was alone, that there was no one to witness my stupidity. The Book clearly delighted in humiliating and tormenting me, and I’d given it ample opportunity to derive pleasure from my desperation.
How ridiculous, to be attacked by abook. Even as I huffed out a hollow laugh at the utter absurdity of the sprite inking me like some demonic squid, its warning rattled in my ears.
I’d run from him if I were you.
15
My unsettling encounter with theBook of Erebosrobbed me of my remaining sangfroid regarding the looming blood ritual. We were facing three major obstacles. First, August was in serious danger. TheBook of Ereboshad all but confirmed as much. He’d apparently consented to act as a donor in the blood ritual, though his reasons for doing so were still murky.
In spite of all that had happened between August and me, he didn’t deserve to be sacrificed in some sick Daemon ritual. Second, Devereaux wanted to use me as leverage against Casimir, and his silence on that front only added to my sense of unease. And third, I couldn’t shake the suspicion that Casimir was hiding something from me. After all, not one but two separate sources had warned me that Casimir was dangerous. The problem was, I hadn’t figured out who Casimir was a danger to.
These ruminations did nothing to ease the acid gnawing at my gut while I attempted to finish a lab report I’d been putting off for a week. Casimir, at least, was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he’d forgotten about Bryce’s party, though a queasy knot in the pit of my stomach told me otherwise. Casimir always did exactly the opposite of what I wanted, almost as if it was on purpose. Everything in my life was on a countdown. My exams, Bryce’s party, the ritual. I attributed the constant fluttering in my stomach to a combination of dread and excitement, like the swooping feeling you get before speaking in public or going on a first date.
But this did not apply to me, because I didnothave a date with Casimir Wrayburn. The only reason we were even going to Bryce’s stupid party was so that Casimir could steal a magical necklace. Whether or not we went together, there was no universe in which our arrival could be considered a date. The very thought of a date withCasimirfuckingWrayburnfilled me with nervous butterflies.
No. Definitely not a date.
These ruminations did nothing to ease the acid gnawing at my gut while I attempted to finish a lab report I’d been putting off for a week. Casimir, at least, was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he’d forgotten about Bryce’s party, though a queasy knot in the pit of my stomach told me otherwise. Casimir always did exactly the opposite of what I wanted, almost as if it was on purpose. Everything in my life was on a countdown. My exams, Bryce’s party, the ritual. I attributed the constant fluttering in my stomach to a combination of dread and excitement, like the swooping feeling you get before speaking in public or going on a first date.
But this did not apply to me, because I didnothave a date with Casimir Wrayburn. The only reason we were even going to Bryce’s stupid party was so that Casimir could steal a magical necklace. Whether or not we went together, there was no universe in which our arrival could be considered a date. The very thought of a date withCasimirfuckingWrayburnfilled me with nervous, dreadful butterflies. No. Definitely not a date.