by Heloise Hull
I plucked a book that whispered and sank to the floor, not minding the cold marble or the intoxicating incense. I read. I consumed knowledge. I was starving. And as I read, I remembered.
When the king died, Catherine didn’t leave his mistress homeless. She gave her a different chateau. It was the principle of the matter to take back Chateau de Chenonceau. After the coronation, Catherine refused to leave her son’s side. He was a boy. A mere child. Instead, she took the reins of power as his regent. They thought she was responsible for his worse impulses. That, as a devout Catholic, she ordered the massacre of the Huguenots on St. Bartholomew’s Day. It wasn’t so much a day, but a season of killing. Again, she was blamed. But she had summoned the church leaders of both sides to try to fix it!
Charles was a frail child and weak-minded. What his advisors mentioned, he executed. Literally. When he died at twenty-four, they whispered that Catherine had poisoned him to make way for her favorite child, Henry.
But Henry was just as weak. She spent the rest of her life trying to tame his violent impulses to little effect. If anyone died around her, she was automatically accused of murder. Being Italian and a woman did her no favors. Being ambitious only made it worse.
These men continued to commit atrocities and still Catherine was blamed. It must have been her wickedness behind these acts! Only a depraved woman could make men do this. Like men suddenly couldn’t think for themselves when a woman was in the room. Talk about mommy issues.
What of her roving diplomacy? She spent eighteen months traveling France, meeting with Huguenot leaders face-to-face. She warned Henry of the brewing unrest. Whoever wrote this history book conveniently overlooked that part.
I kept reading, trying to tamp down my rage. Interesting. She had a son named Hercules. To me, that seemed like she definitely knew about the She-Wolf. And to consult so many rumored necromancers and sorcerers…
Still, she died, Henry having cut her out of his murderous plans. Eight months later, he was assassinated, too. What a curse! But it wasn’t done yet. It was merely the first step in a downward spiral for the French, which my last incarnation hastened.
“I had to,” I whispered, tears streaming down my own wet cheeks. “Or did I? God, how could anyone want to harm their child? Maybe I didn’t. Oh I don’t remember!”
“Darling, don’t go on,” Coronis begged. “You’re not them anymore. You’re Ava. The best mother in the world.”
“Then why am I here when my boys are in trouble? Not even Catherine left Charles’s side when he was a boy.”
I slammed the book shut.
“Your sons are boys no longer, and there is wisdom in letting them learn to fly,” Coronis said.
What was it with birds and their metaphors? I wanted to explode. Then, “Wait… I think I’m starting to understand.”
I gathered more books, and I arranged them in chronological order. When I was done, it was like a roadmap of my lifetimes. All of the possibilities that had led to heartbreak, death, and the demise of empires.
“After the She-Wolf, it started with Cleopatra.” I ran down the line, pointing as I went. “From an unnamed noblewoman in Normandy to Almodis to the pirate queen, Jeanne de Clisson.” I kept going, speaking as if in a trance, remembering only bits and pieces of other lives, other twins. “I was Catherine and then Maria Leszczyńska at the court of Versailles.”
I stood back, arms folded. “I think I have the ebb and flow worked out. Earlier in my reincarnations, I craved power. I hated being weak. As Cleopatra, I reached for it with both hands, convinced it was the only thing keeping me alive. When it led to my downfall and the death of my children, I thought it was because I’d done something wrong. I tried over and over and over again. But every time, I failed. Then, there was one memory of a queen at Versailles. I’d given up. I’d decided the curse was unbreakable. So I let myself fade in the background and live out my existence as the fates saw fit.”
“And what do you think now?”
“I think after that, my reincarnations forgot about magic. Which is why I didn’t know. I’d made myself give it up in Versailles.”
“Well, now we need to get it back. All of it.”
I balked, slamming the last codex shut. “You don’t understand. I’ve never succeeded. Every lifetime has been nothing but pain. I’m dreading even leaving this place, because I’ll have to relive another failure of my lives.”
“Darling, failure is what makes us who we are. Not our triumphs. How many times do you think I’ve failed? You saw a poignant moment of my most terrible failure, but there are so many more little ones along the way.”
“C’mon. You’re fabulous, completely in control of your powers, beautiful, secure enough to never need a man—” I broke off at her scoff.
She glanced at me with sadness seeping into my soul like spilled ink over parchment. “Sorry, darling. But no one is that put together. Not even the long-lived. Except for perhaps Rosemary and Marco.”
It was something in her voice. She had tried to sound upbeat and laughing, but it rang hollow. There was a roundness to it, as if she had shaved the edges until they were no longer sharp.
“You’re in love with Rosemary,” I blurted, the realization hitting me all at once.
Coronis caught herself with a lurch. “How do you do it?” she whispered. “You seem to drag out all our oldest and darkest memories, the ones we left to turn to ash, and you find the one little ember and breathe life into them.”
I remembered that first apertivo hour when Coronis teased her about a throuple and cleaning up after molting. Maybe it wasn’t teasing. Not completely. “Does Rosemary know?”
Coronis sighed. “Of course not. Honestly, that love burned bright centuries ago. I will protect that woman with my life, but our friendship means more to me than my personal happiness. I still have lovers, friends, a purpose. I still lead a fulfilled life.”
“Is that fulfillment or merely things that make you happy?”
“My other jobs, healing and being an amazing friend, they fulfill me.”
“But—”
Coronis shook her head, strangling the words in my throat. “Ava, I appreciate you, but please don’t press this. I’ve made my peace years ago where Rosemary is concerned. Her happiness with Marco means more to me than enjoying her romantic love.” Coronis gave me an admonishing look. “Come now. Don’t look at me like that! I promise I am still happy. If not wholly fulfilled as you point out.”
“Sorry,” I whispered. It was just so hard to imagine seeing the person you loved day after day, madly in love with someone else. If Marco made Rosemary unhappy, it might have been easier. Or maybe that was why it was easier, because Coronis could see the wisdom in her own choice. Marco made Rosemary incredibly happy and that was enough for Coronis.
My heart broke a thousand times for her. She had endured so much heartbreak over her life, only to stare wistfully at unrequited love for centuries. Didn’t she deserve happiness?
But maybe she was right.
Feeling nothing was numbing. I’d done it. I’d been numb, sleepwalking through life for decades. Which was worse? Feeling nothing or everything?
A disembodied voice spoke somewhere to the left of my head, interrupting my thoughts and scaring the shit out of me. “What are you doing here? Alive, I mean.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
A woman floated closer, her eyes pinched with suspicion. She wore her brown hair in a loose bun on top of her head, held in place by a red ribbon. A scowl covered most of her face, and her white tunic dragged on the ground.
“I’m here for a last, dying, ghostly wish?” I tried.
The woman tilted her head, examining me. She had this bearing about her, as if she was completely at peace with herself.
“Who are you?” she asked.
With a glance at my friend, I said, “This is Coronis. I am Ava Falcetti. We came to seek knowledge.”
“Knowledge is a dangerous thing,” the woman countered.
“Of what matters do you seek? Mathematics, philosophy, history?”
“History. Are you a librarian?”
“I am Hypatia of Alexandria. You could consider me a librarian.”
I held myself steady, despite the pounding in my heart as the ghost came closer. A chill settled over my skin as I waited.
“You are unusual,” she said finally.
“I’ve heard that before.”
Hypatia froze. Was this some sort of glitch? Could ghosts freeze? “Hello?” I waved my hand in front of her.
Hypatia’s voice was suddenly urgent. “Run!”
Coronis grabbed my hand and tore down the aisle, Hypatia following in our wake of spilled papers and books.
A taunting voice sang on the air beyond the bookcases. It sounded female, low and seductive.
“What is this? Students? How delicious.”
A phantom flickered in front of us and Coronis dodged left under a vaulted tunnel.
My eyes were having trouble processing. “What the hell is that thing?” It looked like a beautiful, ethereal woman floating in a white chiton. Except one of her legs was made of bronze.
“An empousa. They feed on scholars and spawned the first vampires.”
The empousa suddenly transformed into a hideous beast, fangs curling downward and fur bristling along its body.
I recoiled. “Now that you mention it, I can see the resemblance to Bruno.”
Hypatia shot in front of us. “This way. We can lose her in the stacks.”
We sprinted behind the ghost, trying to block out the howls and snarling of the demon tracking us. She was slowly gaining, destroying whole rows of books in her wake. Hypatia weaved to the left and right, going farther ahead. We couldn’t keep up. “I’m going to have to do something,” I gasped to Coronis. “We’ll never escape this way.”
“Mother magic?”
I came to a halt as Hypatia circled back, panic in her eyes.
I blew into my cupped palms and rubbed them together. Being in Nibiru stoked my powers, I could feel it. Or maybe it was learning all that I’d been capable of in my former lives.
With one hard clap, texts flew from the shelves and landed in the aisles. Books made of paper, manuscripts of vellum, and scrolls of papyri fluttered to the ground. I clapped again, concentrating on my breathing.
Inhale, exhale. Grow.
The pages unfurled in a circle around the empousa. She transformed back into a beautiful woman, summoning me with a black-streaked finger. “Come closer, little witch. Let me feed on you. I think you will be tasty.”
Inhale, exhale. Rise.
The paper began to lift, curling into small roots at first, turning from pulp back to bark. Inhale, exhale. They doubled in size, just as the flour had at Rosemary’s Bakery.
“I haven’t eaten solid flesh in centuries. I’m so very hungry.”
I ignored her taunts and left the paper to flourish while I thought about the vellum. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I felt a heartbeat beneath it. I think vellum was something living, some type of animal. Calves, perhaps? As cute as that would be, it was supremely unhelpful in a battle. So I focused on the papyri, which were sharpened reeds. Instantly, they began to tangle together around the empousa’s metal leg.
“I’m. Not. A. Witch. And I’m not for eating.”
With Coronis cheering me on, I threw the bulk of my strength into making these plants grow. The empousa’s eyes widened as she snapped one twig between her fingers only for three more to take its place. Then came the fury.
Branches grew to the height of the ceiling until they were the size of trunks. They had encased the demon, trapping her inside a vault, and yet I could see the papyri still twisting around her body as the last of the magic reverberated through the plants. The vellum pages lay in disarray, scattered through the aisle in various upturned heaps.
“I’m a mother,” I said matter-of-factly. “And you will not harm my family.”
I leaned closer to examine her. She snapped her teeth at me, but she was caught. I only flinched a little.
Coronis gave me a hug and whispered, “That was amazing!”
“Thanks. What will happen to her now?”
“Custodial services will clean up later. She’ll be released and the books put back to normal.” Hypatia watched me with new eyes, ones that were lit with the fire of academia. “You’ll never know the whole truth until you understand your magic. I would like to know that truth, too. Follow me.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Hypatia lofted a reed torch and pointed to another tunnel as black as night. I could feel the cold leaking out, even thirty feet away. It looked far older than anything I’d ever seen before in the flesh, including myself.
“This way leads to the ancient knowledge you seek. Clay tablets from the fall of Babylon and scrolls written before man had scratched his first words into mud. There are things in here that not even I have read. Do you understand the consequences?”
“Not really.”
“Honesty. I appreciate that,” Hypatia touched my shoulder and handed me the torch. “Once learned, knowledge cannot be unlearned. That is consequence enough to make you pause.”
“That, I can handle. I crave it.”
Hypatia nodded as if this pleased her, and together we walked deeper into the tunnels.
“We want to know about any connection from gods touching animals. Gods touched both Coronis and I and turned us into humans. I keep getting reincarnated, but she’s stayed the same through the centuries.”
“Interesting,” Hypatia murmured as we trudged into the dark. “Who were the gods?”
“Apollo for me,” said Coronis.
I shook my head. “I don’t actually know. I didn’t recognize him in my wolf form.”
Hypatia found a second torch, abandoned on the ground. She lit it with her own and offered it to me. “I wonder if it was a difference in intent, or godly power used, or something to do with the individual animals you were beforehand. What were they?”
“I’m a crow shifter,” Coronis supplied.
“And I was the She-Wolf of Rome, but I don’t shift.”
“Two cunning animals, each feared in their own rights, but not for the same reasons. Not a lot of connection, is there?”
“No.”
Time began to feel impossible. How long had we been trudging in a rapidly declining tunnel? Were there other demons, more ancient than the empousa, hiding down here? If there was anything like the sea serpents, we’d be in trouble.
Hypatia was silently lost in her thoughts for at least an hour. I whispered to Coronis. “How far do you think this goes?”
“No idea. Legends said the Library had a sort of consciousness. It added and grew, sprawling out across the astral plane like a slumbering beast, collecting knowledge as it went. But this must be the most ancient part, the part not even the librarians at its height knew existed. At least, not in our realm. They only spoke about its possibility in whispers between magicians. Perhaps, it’s only ever existed here.”
“Too cool! And a little terrifying.”
The descent ended and the landscape changed from a corbelled tunnel to a brilliant crystal surface. We jolted through a sinuous trail where I lost all sense of direction, slipping and sliding on the smooth stone. Eventually, we abandoned our torches and clung to each other for support.
“I take it back,” I huffed, having fallen for the tenth time. “Not cool.”
“Have you been here before?” Coronis asked Hypatia.
“No. Like you, I’ve only heard half-whispers and stories. I’ve been curious but never found the time. Or perhaps the courage.”
Suddenly, the tunnel opened into a vast room big enough to house all the grains of sand in the world. My brain was having a hard time computing its vastness. It was completely devoid of anything. Only the multi-faceted crystal twinkled and shone.
“What is this place?” I asked
, wincing as my voice reverberated like a bomb.
There were no tables or chairs. No bookshelves or books. Not even a scroll. Nothing. It was empty. Coronis whispered, her voice barely audible. “Are we in the right place?”
Hypatia wandered to the closest wall, feeling around with her eyes closed. “We must feed it,” she said.
“Like pasta and wine? What is this, a date?”
Coronis snorted. “It won’t put out until you buy it something. I’ve had partners like that.”
“Blood,” Hypatia said, her voice rough with awe, and the sound of it immediately sobered us.
“Whose blood?” I wondered.
“And how much?” Coronis added.
“Let’s find out,” Hypatia said. “I no longer have any pumping through my veins.”
“Right,” I said, taking a page from my sons’ book. “Rock, paper, scissors?” I asked the crow.
“The magic will be stronger with both of your offerings. There is a dagger here in the wall. That is the only reasonable explanation.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
I followed apprehensively as Coronis unsheathed the dagger. “Together?”
“Together.”
I pricked my index finger at the same time as Coronis, ruby droplets welling on the tip of our fingers. We turned our hands over and let the twin drops fall to the ground, splattering the once-pristine white floor.
Instantly, the room quaked and rippled like a boulder thrown in a lake. The crystal blurred, and when I blinked away the fuzziness, images had settled all around us similar to my sons’ virtual reality video games.
“Archon powers,” said Hypatia in wonder.
“How do you know?”
“Look,” she pointed.
“Are those… archons?” I asked.
Coronis nodded.
I counted the robed figures, their heads bowed over their clasped hands as they stood on the steps of a temple so big, it defied logic. “Seven. Is that their total number?”
“Yes, that sounds right. Seven archons went between the realms as messengers of the gods. That must be Axis Mundi.”