“You don’t let me forget.” She made the flame grow before extinguishing it. “I’m just going to be researching, so if I get any information that could help I’ll contact you.”
His face softened for a second, barely a glimpse as he thought it over. “Fine.” A shallow nod. “I didn’t realise how bad the necromancer hurt you, for that I apologise.”
“It’s fine, no harm done.”
Alice fought not to touch him, her hand almost reaching up to Rex’s skin on its own accord before she clenched it into a fist. It was a weird reaction she couldn’t explain. She stepped back into Sam, the distance between them helping the weird magnetic pull.
“Ah, I’ll keep you updated.”
Sam purred low in his chest, his hand stroking through the strands in her hair as he centred himself with touch.
“You do that.” Rex went to stretch towards her before he caught himself, his eyes following Sam’s lazy movements as he continued to stroke her hair.
Shifters were tactile creatures, needing the physical response to calm their animals. Rex was itching to touch her, reassure his beast that she wasn’t hurt. But she couldn’t bring herself to close the gap, allow him some comfort.
She couldn’t explain her weird attraction, and until she could, she wouldn’t allow herself to indulge in what her body was begging her for. She clenched her fists harder.
“Why are you here Rex?” He seemed to be everywhere.
“I came to inform you that time is running out. Another one of my wolves has gone missing.”
“What?” she gasped. “When? How?”
“Not important. What is important is that we need to find a new lead.”
“How is the time frame not important...?”
“It isn’t relevant,” Rex interrupted.
“There you go again, keeping information from me...”
“Look, I need to go. They need me at the den.” Ice eyes met her own. “You will call me.” He growled as he slammed the front door, not giving her time to reply.
“Fuck.” She smacked her hand against the wood.
“He’s such an arsehole.” Sam stood to the side with his arms crossed.
“You have no idea.” She stared at her hand, tracing the little crescent moon indents her nails left. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He had done it again, left her in the dark and expected her to find her way out.
“I don’t trust him, he acts like he has something to hide.”
“I know he has.” She knew as soon as he recognised the necromancer, she just wasn’t sure what he was hiding. Yet she couldn’t drop the case, not until she found out the answers she didn’t even know she was searching for.
“Then what’s the plan?”
Oh, I don’t know, figure out what the hell is going on before my resistance gives up and I jump back into bed with him.
She knew she sounded crazy even in her own head, so instead she said, “I need to research this cult.”
And pray to the many gods that it was going to lead somewhere.
Chapter 22
“You didn’t have to come.” Alice crossed the road, dodging past impatient back cabs that couldn’t care less that it was a pedestrian’s right of way.
“My spidey senses are tingling.” Sam walked beside her. “I just feel like…” he paused, unable to explain.
“You know in every situation it would be me, protecting you right?” She glanced to her left, smirking.
“Yeah, but I look scarier.” He showed her his canines.
She couldn’t argue with that. “Seriously, what can go wrong in a library?”
“A book could fall on you.” He shrugged as he peered at her from the corner of his eye. “Or Rex could turn up.” He stretched his hand out to stop her. “You need to stay away from him.”
“You don’t need to worry.” A car screeched against the wet asphalt as it dodged a cyclist. Beeps and horns a daily occurrence in a city.
“He’s taking way too much interest in you,” Sam said, anxious.
“I’m figuring it out.” She turned them towards the mammoth Victorian style building located just off the west district. The intricate, architectural structure was a stunning contrast to the neighbouring skyscrapers, and the hundreds of original glass windows reflecting different patterns in a kaleidoscope of colour.
The rain had calmed down to a trickle rather than the downpour that pummelled earlier, the sun breaking through the coal grey clouds to shine bleakly.
“What are we here for?” Sam asked as they walked through the two storey wooden door that led into the main atrium of the library.
“Research.”
Sam laughed. “It’s called the internet.”
“What I want to research can’t be tracked.”
“Ah, you don’t want Dread to find out.” Sam’s face turned solemn. “Don’t get yourself in over your head. I don’t know what Rex has hired you for, but you seem to be at a crossroads.”
Alice didn’t know what to say, the seriousness of the statement unsettling. “I know what I’m doing.” She hoped.
The library was the oldest across the British Isles, 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 can 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 titl
ed, ‘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 frustration, looking for any other books that could give an insight into a mysterious cult that could, or couldn’t 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 underneath 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 had 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.
Alice smirked. “Sure.”
“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,’ an 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 of the words. 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 accidentally 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’. Druids are notoriously famous for their passivity, 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 Breeds 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 t
o 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 had been best friends with her father, and while he never admitted his true age, she knew he was old.
Alice closed the books, stacking them up and putting them on a tray for the librarian to put back into place.
“Did you find anything?” she asked.
“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 can ask the receptionist, maybe we’re missing something.”
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.”
“Daemons?” 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 Daemons?” 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?”
Witch's Sorrow: A Witch Detective Urban Fantasy (Alice Skye Series Book 1) Page 20