Praise for the Collectors’ Society series
“The most unique, fascinating, wondrous book I’ve read in a very long time! I was glued to every page.”–Shelly Crane, New York Times bestselling author of Significance and Wide Awake
“So unique and different, the first thing I thought when I finished . . . Man I wish I would have thought of that! Buy this book, you won’t regret it!”–#1 NYT bestselling author Rachel Van Dyken
“This book should come with a handwritten tag that says ‘Read Me.’ And you should. Right now. One of my favorite reads of the year. Loved it! I want to live inside Heather’s brain.”–Daisy Prescott, USA Today Bestselling author of Modern Love Stories
“This fantasy was a breath of fresh air. It was unique, inspiring, and obviously a five-star read. If you enjoy romance, adventure, and traveling through worm holes go get this book ASAP!”—Jennifer Foor, author of the Best Selling Mitchell Family Series, The Kin Series, The Bankshot Series, The Twisted Twin Series, Diary of a Male Maid, Hope’s Chance and Love’s Suicide
“One of the most inventive stories I’ve ever read. Brimming with sexiness and romance, magic and lore, it’s a modern-day fairytale adventure that is not to be missed.”–Vilma’s Book Blog
“THIS BOOK WAS EPIC! . . . I wanted to escape into a story that held not only romance, but also mystery. And that’s exactly what I got when I read The Collectors’ Society. I got a riveting, refreshing, and unique plot that was not only driven by a beautifully sweet romance, but also a thriving story filled with suspense and unbounded mystery.”–Angie and Jessica’s Dreamy Reads
“Alice is the new standard that I set for all heroines.”–BFF Book Blog
“Deserving to be a new classic for the modern day, The Collectors’ Society should be on your must read list.”—The Paisley Reader
“If you love classic literature, and you love fantasy and fairy tales, this is a must read book for you.”—Book Briefs
“This is one of those books where you have to sit back and question an author’s sanity because how the hell did they ever come up with this amazingly insane and totally unique idea if not for a bit of insanity on their parts. All I can say is thank goodness for Heather Lyons and her crazy thoughts, Collectors’ Society is. . . . . . I can’t even explain it, just know that it IS . . .”—Reads All The Books
“ . . . A unique tale that will leave you breathless, enthralled and begging for more. If you thought you knew classic fairy tales, think again!”—Resch Reads and Reviews
“I’m finding it almost impossible to put down in words the love I feel for this story. It was nothing like I expected and yet everything I wanted.”–The Book Hookup
“I’m not exaggerating when I say that The Hidden Library has everything you could possibly want or need in a book: laughter, heartache, romance, action, adventure, mystery, suspense—the list goes on and on. If I could’ve dreamed up a book that would satisfy my not-so-secret love of fairy tales as well as my never-ending search to find exciting and inventive storylines, I wouldn’t have come close to dreaming up The Hidden Library because it’s completely and delightfully unique. Not only does it have a nostalgic feel that beckons my inner book lover, but it’s also refreshing in a way that kept me guessing as to where the narrative would go next. “–Nose Stuck in a Book
“Beautifully crafted settings, gripping plots, and enough emotion to satisfy even the coldest of hearts, Lyons has taken elements from some of the greatest novels in history and fashioned them together to create herself a spot on the shelf of future “Great American Classics.” Heather Lyons has woven together a story that transforms history, bringing a new-found love of classical literature to a whole new generation of readers.”
–One Guy’s Guide to Great Reads
“The Hidden Library has it all: intrigue, romance, danger, hope, passion, and despair. The wide range of emotions you feel while reading this story will leave you breathless and begging for more.”–Typical Distractions Book Blog
“I was completely entranced with the first book of this series, The Collectors Society, and The Hidden Library is no different. This is a highly entertaining and well-written series that I hope doesn’t go away any time soon. “–Books She Reads
“This series keeps getting better and is a must read. A rare 6 star rating from this picky reader!”–A Literary Perusal
“I’ve never, never, never EVER read a book with such extraordinary characters in the fantasy genre.” -Melissa Reads Books
“A mystically fantastic read that takes you on a magical fun journey. . . . Start this series now!!!” -TSK TSK What to Read
“This book has everything, everything. A beautiful romance. Wonderful friendships. Some love sacrifices. Broken hearts. An evil genius.” -Lost in a Book Blog
“Sequels don’t always live up to the original books but let me tell you Heather has knocked it out of the park with The Hidden Library . . .” -Book Starlets
The Forgotten Mountain
Copyright © 2015 by Heather Lyons
http://www.heatherlyons.net
Cerulean Books
ISBN: 978-0-9908436-4-1
First Edition
Cover design by Whit And Ware
Editing by Kristina Circelli
Book formatting by Champagne Formats
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Praise for the Collectors’ Society series
Copyright
Also by Heather Lyons
Dedication
The Girl With The Red Cloak
Madness
The Rare Books Division
Apartment 1202
Brook Street
Desperation
A Love Story Gone Wrong
Blackened Teeth
The Truth Revealed
John and Paul
Fairy Tales
The Woods
The Tale of the Twelth Wise Woman
The Clearing
The Queen and the Prince
The Goose’s Gifts
The Inn’s Special
The Well
Sacrifice
That Which Was Lost Is Now Found
Home
A Bibliography
Acknowledgements
Also by Heather Lyons
The Hidden Library
The Deep End of the Sea
A Matter of Fate
The Fate Series
About the Author
Also by Heather Lyons
The Fate Series
A Matter of Fate (#1)
Beyond Fate—a novella (#1.5)
A Matter of Heart (#2)
A Matter of Truth (#3)
A Matter of Forever (#4)
The Collectors’ Society Series
The Collectors’ Society (#1)
The Hidden Library (#2)
The Forgotten Mountain (#3)
The Deep End of the Sea
This one is dedicated to
Andrea Johnston and Jessica Mangicaro,
two special friends who have been with these
books & characters since the beginning.
THE DOOR TO MY flat is wide open yet entirely sealed with webbing. I know this silk, have valued its strength in the past. I also know better than to attempt to tear it apart with bare hands, so I redirect to the flat next to mine. That particular door is unlocked—rarely do Society members lock their doors against one another—and when I enter, I sternly remind myself to remain levelheaded and calm.
Even though his smell is so utterly alluring and strong in here.
I locate what I desire in less than a minute: a pair of daggers left behind weeks ago, whilst I was too lazy or forgetful to bring them the scant distance back to my flat. I proceed to carefully check every single room, ensuring my focus remains on the task at hand rather than the memories clamoring to consume me. And yet, the muscle inside my chest squeezes, demanding notice.
Once satisfied the flat is secure, I return to my own. It takes several swipes of the daggers to slice through the tensile, and by the time I finally enter my quarters, sticky silk clings to my hair and clothes. This matters little, though. I have much graver concerns than whether or not my appearance is up to snuff.
Before me, the sitting area is in disarray, the few extraneous items I’ve allowed myself since my induction into the Society spread haphazardly across the room. The sole casualty of extreme violence appears to be a lamp in pieces upon the rug. Although it’s been hours since Lygari was within the walls of the Institute, my fingers curl tightly around my blades as I quietly make my way toward the bedroom.
Within, I discover a body of a child prone upon the floor next to the case securing my crown from Wonderland. Her eyes are darkened wide in shock, or perhaps even terror, as she gazes blankly at the ceiling. She has turned a mottled purple and is riddled with burst blisters. Yellowish pus crusts across the visible bits of skin, leaving her a ghastly sight to behold. And still, a smile curves my lips as my eyes fall upon a forgotten set of pan pipes nearby.
My grip loosens on the blades. “Are there any more I ought to be aware of?”
Not more than a second passes before a welcome sight scuttles out from behind the case. Larger than my hand, covered with prickly hair and adorned with lovely yet vicious fangs, the arachnid leaps upon a nearby dresser. “This is the only fiend to breach these quarters, Your Majesty.”
“You have my gratitude, Grymsdyke.”
He lowers himself down upon two legs. “I live to serve the Queen of Diamonds.”
I side skirt the body and sit upon the edge of my bed. “I would ask for your report.”
My most deadly assassin coughs as he straightens his body. “Shortly prior to your departure last night, His Majesty the White King of Wonderland convened the Cheshire-Cat, myself, and the Five of Diamonds. After I reassured His Majesty I would remain at this Institute, he bade me to ensure that, if I was not in active service to my liege, I might keep an eye on the Diamonds’ crown. Although assured by the proprietors within these walls of its safety, His Majesty is, as he has always been, greatly concerned about your safety. I was glad to offer this small bit of service toward the Diamonds’ throne.”
Another bow is offered; I incline my head.
“The White King and the Cheshire-Cat did not feel comfortable remaining behind whilst you hunted a foe. His Majesty stated he would accompany you to the gala, and once he departed, the Cheshire-Cat and the Five of Diamonds retired to their quarters to discuss matters back home. I came straightaway to your chambers. Soon after, this child arrived, playing dissonant music on her instrument. As I did not recognize her, there was no hesitation to attack.”
My eyes fall once more upon the child’s body. Dressed in a dirty red cloak, she cannot be more than ten, perhaps twelve years of age at the most. And still, I cannot muster the proper amount of grief one ought to feel at the demise of one so young.
Youth or no, she possessed a set of pipes like Gabriel Lygari’s.
“None other dared enter my chambers?”
“None, my lady.”
“The music did not affect you?”
Grymsdyke’s body tilts. “It was most unpleasant. The child was a terrible musician. I have done the world a favor.”
“Indeed you have.” I rise. “Unfortunately, there are more unpleasant tasks ahead of us in the coming days.”
“I am yours to command, my lady.”
“I suppose I must go inform someone that there is a body to dispose of.” I bend down and retrieve the pipes. They are wooden, the barrels nearly gleaming, they’ve been used so much. “Ensure there are no more stray musicians lingering about within the Institute.”
I’m offered a final bow before Grymsdyke scurries up the wall and out the door.
“ARE YOU SURE ABOUT this?”
Despite its connotations, sure is a relative, fluid term at best. One can be sure at any given moment and then riddled with doubt seconds later. One can be sure that the leap into the unknown is the best course of action, only to rue it the moment hard, rocky bottom is struck. Is any person completely certain of something? Our names, perhaps. Our selves. Our morals. Exactly how much of our soul we are willing to sell or part with to gain what it is we most desire.
When I tell Marianne Brandon I am sure, I could not be firmer in my convictions. It is hers that are in question. “Are you sure your ministrations will prove effective?”
Although, if I am to be honest with myself, my question is better suited for the Society’s protections than mine. I am indifferent to the consequences.
“Yes.” Our latest technology wizard’s smile is grim as she furiously clicks away at her laptop. In the front seat of the van, Jack Dawkins, otherwise known at the Society as the Artful Dodger or the A.D., snaps a clip into his handgun. Across from me, Mary Lennox loads darts into her tranquilizer gun. She is a terrible shot. Perhaps I ought to clarify that she is incompetent with most other weapons, as well. Her estimable skills lie elsewhere, amongst poisons, potions, medicines, and chemistry. Like I, though, there is nothing anyone could say to tempt her away from what we’re about to do. Not even the absence of the Collectors’ Society’s official blessings.
“Chances are,” I say to Mary, “it will be as reported.”
She holds her weapon out, testing the weight. “They were given ten minutes to search the place.” A loud click sounds in the van as she pumps the chamber. “Even for those as skilled at retrievals like Finn and the A.D., ten minutes is nothing. Wendy asked the impossible of them.”
My partner’s name is a fist to my belly, but rather than leave me desperate to curl into a ball and weep uselessly about the unfairness of life and how I utterly failed Finn by going against my instincts whilst leaving him behind, it only solidifies the cold rage icing my veins.
Vengeance, the Caterpillar once told me, can be a delicious and fulfilling meal. Be certain it is what you want to eat, though, because as it travels through your body, it will seep into every last part of you. Your stomach may hurt afterward; you may even want to purge the contents. And yet, even if you can, traces of it will always remain.
My former Grand Advisor, whose head was struck from his body by the Queen of Hearts and whose body was fashioned into a gruesome clutch to sate twisted, vile needs, consistently proffered excellent advice. There were many I wished to wreak vengeance upon over the years, yet typically practiced restraint per his wise words.
He is dead. The man I am in love with is missing—believed to be dead by most. Mary’s love is also missing and assumed dead. Millions of souls have perished at the hands of villains through the destruction of catalysts. There has been too much devastation. Too much loss.
I am ready to eat that meal now.
We are parked alongside the highway just before the gates leading to
an estate belonging to a book collector named Gabriel Pfeifer—the same man who once introduced himself to me as Gabe Lygari. I’d spent a portion of an evening inside his mansion alongside Finn a while back. We came to purchase a pair of books for the Librarian, but once Lygari’s collection was discovered to be immense and riddled with collectables from authors, we lingered to investigate. Weeks later, Finn was sent back alongside the A.D. to retrieve a catalyst, only to discover that the library and house we’d spent time within no longer existed. In its place was a sterile, empty riddle of a tomb.
Late last night, as the four of us within this van met to discuss this morning’s outing, I typed Lygari’s name into the Internet search on my cell phone. It was something I never thought to do before, something none of us had. How deliciously, patently spot-on was my find: Lygari translates to liar.
It fits the man I now hunt.
The A.D. climbs into the back of the van with the rest of us. We ready ourselves even though chances are the structure is just as abandoned as when Finn searched it the week prior. Bulletproof vests are strapped to our chests; guns slide into holsters. Daggers are strapped to our bodies. Three will go in, and by God, three will come out. There will be no time limit during this search.
Marianne clicks away at her keyboard. The screens bolted to the van’s walls waver until new images appear, ones from security cameras inside the house Lygari named Bücherei. Library. I want to tear apart this athenaeum. People do not go to the trouble of hiding entire libraries if there is nothing worth protecting within them.
If he thinks he can hide it from me forever, then Lygari is truly a fool.
“The security cameras are now in my control.” Marianne’s eyes do not stray from her laptop screen as her fingers fly across the letters of her keyboard. “The overall system has been, as well. Viruses were encoded into them to ensure they stay mine.”
Despite still being unsure what constitutes a technology virus, I consider this is excellent progress.
The A.D. scratches the back of his neck, his head ducked as to not hit the roof of the van. “However did a Janeite manage to keep such tech skills quiet for so long, luv?”
The Forgotten Mountain (The Collectors' Society Book 3) Page 1