by Lucy Auburn
I swallow. “So it’s... up to me?”
“You can break it in an instant.” The way his eyes travel up and down me, and he licks his lips, makes it clear just what he’s thinking about. “Of course, I’d never pressure you. If Meyer thinks it’s a bad idea... well, it’s not like there are any books about soul bonds or Grims that might contradict him.”
Which brings me instantly back to my original mission: checking out research books at the library. “I have to go.”
“You mean you have to make me go.” His eyes are half-lidded, his mouth a teasing curve. “Go on then. I’ll come back the next time you want me.”
Swallowing, I let my eyes drift out the window and seize on that peaceful state of mind that Yohan has spent several mornings drilling into me. It’s hard to find, with Sebastian sitting so close to me, but after a few silent moments I manage to dismiss him.
Alone again, I take a moment to study the academy grounds outside the window. It’s strange to be here in this place, which is so aged, beautiful, and solid from the outside, but full of secrets and danger on the inside. The grass outside is a bright green turning slowly yellow as autumn catches up. Leaves threaten to fall from the trees in response to the faintest breeze.
Though the entrance to Phoenix Academy is technically in Santa Cruz, California, the weather and grounds past the gates are firmly northeastern, located in a vague place described to me with magic I don’t quite understand. The secrecy keeps the hunted phoenix students safe—or it did, until Grims somehow found a way to infiltrate the grounds.
From the lush acreage to the renovated old buildings, it’s not the kind of place I ever expected to find myself. Like Olivia told me early on, most of the students here are legacies, and even the ones who aren’t are rarely former foster kids like me.
But the longer I spend here, the more it starts to feel natural to pull on my dark red wool blend blazer, grab my ID card, and head down the stairs to the dining hall to eat everything in sight.
Maybe there’s a danger in that too.
Tearing my eyes away from the lush grounds, I brush past Kayla’s memorial and head up the stairs, towards the library—where hopefully, I’ll get a few answers that will point me in the direction of a solution to my problem.
I don’t want to say goodbye to my guys forever.
But I’d also prefer the whole not-dying thing I’ve got going on.
Doing research in dusty stacks is hardly my idea of a good time, but I’ll do anything if it helps me understand just what the Little Hell is happening to me.
Chapter 13
It’s strange to swipe my ID card through the card reader next to the library doors and enter without worrying about being caught. The last time I came here it was the middle of the night and I was sneaking in to snatch a book—one I still, I guiltily realize, haven’t returned.
Once, not returning a library book wouldn’t have even pinged on my radar, much less made me feel a twinge of recrimination. But something about having Lynx pop into my life every day with some enthusiastic lecture on the importance of archives has changed things. Now I actually find myself mentally planning to return the book just so I can check it out the right way instead of filching it.
Damn that hot, shirtless nerd. Somehow he’s wiggled into my brain and set up camp in my moral center. Next thing you know I’ll be pontificating and rambling on about history and archival standards.
Wrenching my thoughts to the books in front of me, I take a good look around at the library now that I’m here during the day. Soft lights are set into the domed ceiling, which mirrors the sunlit dome in the headmaster’s office. Shelves and shelves of books extend in every direction, covering everything from human history to shifter history to spells.
The question is, what part of the paranormal Dewey Decimal system covers Grims like me? Maybe we’re filed under “Psychotic, Murderers” or “Heart Thieves to Rib Crackers.”
We. Such a funny word. But I’m not a Grim, not quite, at least not since my phoenix-activating death on the cliffs. Maybe there’s a book here about the Black Phoenix—though I think if there were, Ocean Johnson would’ve already given a stuffy lecture on it.
As I move through the stacks, a familiar silhouette catches my attention. Brown skin, wide shoulders, a tendency to be half-dressed—but this isn’t Lynx. A familiar lion shifter who I once thought of as “hoodie guy” is leaning up against one of the back walls, three books juggled precariously in his hands.
“Liam.” He glances up, looking startled, and moves away from the wall—which causes the wrinkled blazer he had stuffed between his leg and his side to fall to the ground. I laugh. “That eager to get out of uniform?”
“I hate that they make us wear them.” He grabs the blazer off the ground and throws it on an armchair, pulling at the loose knot of his tie. “This place has so many rules that they’ve never bothered to change. I mean, the blazer are treated with fireproof coating or something, but how often does this place actually catch on fire?”
“Mere days ago,” I point out, “when the White Phoenix nearly killed me on the stairwell in the Great House.”
“Oh. Right.” He rubs the back of his neck, which causes two of the books to nearly fall out of his careless hands. “Well, I still hate it. I wish they were blue. Or cooler. I’d rather wear a motorcycle jacket.”
A voice from behind me mutters, “I can’t believe he folded the page on a copy of Mirna’s Oddities to save his place. Dani, tell this punk that bookmarks exist.”
I should’ve known that just standing in the presence of a book-related crime would be enough to summon Lynx. He’s huffing with his arms crossed behind me, eyes narrowed at Liam—who doesn’t seem to even notice him in the slightest. Unlike Meyer, who at least senses the demons’ presence, the lion shifter is completely ignorant to the deadly stare he’s getting.
If I’m getting visited by all the guys today, I guess Mateo is next.
Hopefully he hasn’t figured out a way to unpin a grenade in his incorporeal form. I wouldn’t like to test the fireproofing on these wool blend blazers, especially with so many old ass books around. Of course if Mateo were here right now, he’d just be talking about what a huge damn nerd Lynx is.
“Ah, shit.” Liam fumbles and drops one of his books face-down on the ground. “Fuck.”
“Dani!” Lynx’s hand goes through me as he points at the book, horrified. “That’s a first edition. And he’s ruining it.”
Of all the pressing things in the world. Rolling my eyes, I bend down to pick up the book—forgetting that Lynx is standing right behind me, completely incorporeal.
My ass goes through him. Specifically, I’ve backed my rear end right into his ghostly crotch. And as always, the touch of my body against his soul sends shivers of pleasure and sparks of delight running up and down me.
Only this time, it all starts in my ass and groin and travels outward.
Then Lynx moans.
Burning bright red, I snatch the book and straighten up—only to hit my head against Liam as he bends down to grab it himself. He curses, I yelp, more precious first editions go flying out of his hand, and we both wind up standing a couple feet away from each other rubbing our foreheads.
“Ah, sorry.” Liam shoots my an apologetic smiles. “I almost took you out.”
“It was my fault.”
He brushes his fingers against his lips and grimaces. “I think I got a bit of your hair in my mouth.”
I laugh. “It’s fiber?”
He smirks at me. “I barely noticed it going into my mouth when we collided. If your hair tastes as good as it smells, no wonder.”
Lynx strides in between us and crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes at Liam. “He’s flirting with you. It’s weird, but it’s flirting. Tell him to stop doing it.”
“I thought Ezra was the bossy one,” I snap.
Liam looks perplexed. “Sorry, what?”
Fuck, I said that out loud.
“
Oh, uh, nothing, I just...” I redden, and Lynx scowls at me, turning so he blocks my view of Liam. I have to aim my eyes at his chest and hope I’m still making eye contact like a normal person. “You know, Grim stuff. Meyer is teaching me new things and I guess I got... distracted.”
I’m not making any sense.
“Are you okay?” He leans towards me, until Lynx is forced to move in order to avoid overlapping with him—though the demon stays close, his eyes burning with so much frustration that I nearly expect Liam to go up in flames. “Your eyes looked kind of crossed for a second there. Sure you weren’t hurt when you hit your head? We could always go to the infirmary just in case.”
“I’m good. Just uh... need to do some studying.” Bending down, I sweep up the books Liam knocked to the ground and hand them up to him. “I guess you do too.”
“Yeah.” He’s still looking at me all perplexed, but he grabs his wrinkled blazer off the chair and heads off towards the study nook. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“I’m good,” I tell him. “I’ll just be over here.”
I loiter for a bit near the history books, moving down the aisles towards “Dark Magic to Necromancy” only when I’m sure that Liam’s back is to me. I don’t want him to see the section of the library I’m headed towards.
“Why are you acting so shifty?” Lynx narrows his eyes at me. “Don’t tell me you like that sweaty version of flirting.”
“No.” I don’t know why I feel so defensive; it’s not like there’s anything between me and any of the guys, even though Sebastian has certainly tried to make it happen. They have an agreement, after all. “I just... I don’t know, I feel like I’m looking at the restricted books.”
“They’re all out here in the open. If they didn’t want you to read them, they’d be through that door.”
He points towards a door in the back with a sign that says RESTRICTED in bold, unmistakable letters.
“Right. Well, I guess I’m just being paranoid. The last time I came here I did steal a book, after all.”
Lynx looks unconvinced. “If you say so.”
The truth is that as much as I like Liam, I don’t know how he’ll take my newfound interest in Grim stuff and demon summoning. None of the shifters I’ve been hanging with have really talked about me being a Black Phoenix since they found out... good or bad. It’s impossible to tell what they think of that part of me, and I’m wary to find out one way or another.
Peering around the shelves to make sure they’re empty, I head closer and closer to the tiny section marked G-GRIMS. Unsurprisingly, every books here is leather bound and black, seeming to suggest that the very secrets of death itself (and evil, always evil) are held between the front and back covers.
A sound from behind me indicates someone is heading this way, and my spidey (Grimmy) senses go off. Spinning on my feet, I crouch down and pretend like I was looking at “Manticores to Zombies”—and holy fuck, I have to check the Z-ZOMBIES shelf just to make sure I saw that right.
You know, flesh-eating undead zombies.
“They’re all legends.” Lynx is peering over my shoulder, like the worst kind of nosy nerd, and the only reason why I don’t shove him away is because he’s not technically solid enough to hit. “Zombies are just a human reinterpretation of isolated events of necromancy, the worst of which were reported during the Haitian Revolution when slave owning Grims resorted to the dark arts to bring the dead back to life and fight their battles.”
Well, that’s scarier than The Walking Dead, so thanks Lynx.
“By the way,” he adds, “why are you acting so fucking sneaky? Are you really that embarrassed to be reading books about yourself?”
“One of those shelves is N for necromancy,” I mutter beneath my breath. “You know, like what that unknown Grim did to Victoria. I don’t want to be like that.”
“Power is power. It’s not the having it that corrupts, it’s the using of it.”
“You just told me that Grims owned slaves and fought to keep actual people from liberating themselves.” He crooks an eyebrow at me. “I may have been homeless when we met, but I did go to a dumb fancy school for a while, and I know how to read. I’m aware of what happened during the Haitian Revolution.”
“I didn’t say otherwise.” Lynx cocks his head at me. “There were Grims among the slaves too.”
I open my mouth to ask him more, only to realize just what exactly I’d be getting myself into. Knowing Lynx, he’ll start lecturing and never stop. “Hush,” I tell him, trying to look like a peeved nerd—an expression I’ve seen many times on his face. “We’re in a library, not a circus.”
He just looks amused at this. “Whatever you say.”
Peering back, I’m relieved to see that the latest student to the library has veered over to the “Shifting and Potions” section and is perusing decidedly not-black-bound books, moving further and further away. So I roll up onto my heels and move back to the shelf full of evil.
A History of the Grim Clans. Theodore Wainwright’s Guide to Fighting Grims: Volume I. Theodore Wainwright’s Guide to Fighting Grims: Volume II. I skim past the repetition, ignoring the skull and crossbones on the bottom of the spines. The Big Book of Demons: Prepare Yourself to Fight Evil by Knowing Its Name. Are Grims Human? Musings of a Paranormal Researcher. Techniques for Fighting Grim Time Slipstreams.
It’s quite clear by the time I get to the end of the shelf that these books cover the subject from one side and one side only. I’m shocked I even managed to get The Arcane Arts of the Living and the Dead. Especially without Lynx inside the library to help me.
“Wait.” My mind suddenly catches up to something I just now realize I should’ve tripped over earlier. “How are you here?” I stare up at the demon, who’s lounging against the books with a petulant expression on his face, no doubt upset he can’t touch them. “When I came here last time, you guys said that you couldn’t get past the wards.”
He blinks at me, like this has just now occurred to him. “That’s true. I was so upset about that sweaty-fingered boy dropping a first edition that I forgot to ask you how you got me here.”
“I didn’t do it,” I object. “Also, how would you know if Liam has sweaty fingers or not? You’ve never touched him.”
“I just know.” The petulance turns into straight-up pouting. “Why not just make me corporeal? I’ll show him what he’s up against and he’ll back off.”
“I have better things to do,” I point out. “Like figuring out if there’s anything in these books that will tell me how to do something besides kill people like me.” Fingers skimming over the black spines, I stare at the bookend keeping them from tipping over and frown. “It’s weird that this shelf is only half full. All the other shelves are stuffed to the brim. There’s even a few books on their side down at the bottom. You’d think they’d rearrange them to make space...”
A voice behind me nearly gives me a heart attack. “Those books were all checked out by a faculty member.”
Whirling around, I meet the impressively large, round eyes of a short woman whose glasses make her look like she’s staring at me in 3D stereoscopic vision. Tufts of light blonde hair curl around her ears, and her clothing is long and dark brown, which combined with her structure and giant eyes makes her look like... well, like an owl come to life.
Even Lynx seems a little freaked out. “How in the inferno did she sneak up on us like that?”
“If you’d like to be put on the waitlist for any of the titles, simply let me know,” the woman says, each syllable stretched out and deliberate, her voice a quiet, rasping creak. “Although they may not be available for a long time. There are other subjects you may find more promising for a first year student.”
I blink at her, my eyes catching on the nametag pinned to her too-long coat: “Beatrice Trout, Head Librarian.” I didn’t see her on my way in or hear her sneak up on me, but then again for all I know she actually is an owl and she spends more of her time perched in
the rafters until a moment comes for her to swoop down from above.
“I guess I’ll put myself on the waitlist.” I try to shake off the eerie feeling that she’s been watching me this whole time—and no doubt judging me for talking to an invisible demon. “What are the titles of the books?”
In answer, she pulls a list out of one of the many pockets of her coat. “The only book not on it is The Arcane Arts of the Living and the Dead, which went mysteriously missing a while back.” She tilts her head at me, blinking those big eyes and cementing my belief that she must turn into an owl at will. “Of course, you know exactly where it is.”
Lynx whistles low, while my stomach churns. “Oooohh Dani, you’re in trou-ble.”
“I’m uh, sorry about that. I’ll return it right away.” I take the list from her and scan down the titles, alarmed by the sinister nature of each of them. “Who checked all these out?”
Another head tilt, this time to the other side. “Who else but Leo Meyer, the first Grim to step foot on these grounds since their founding? I assume he got them to lend to you. They were checked out before he even received his room assignment in the faculty wing.”
I give her a tight smile. “I guess I’ll just ask him about them, then.”
“See that you do. And return that book at once.” She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose, eyes narrowing menacingly. “It’s far too dangerous to have in the wrong hands. It should’ve been shelved in the restricted section from the start.” The tut-tut that escapes her mouth almost sounds like a bird clacking its beak. “These interns. Can’t read anything right.”
Since I’ve gotten what I came for, I give her an awkward smile and slide away, heading towards the double doors out. Lynx follows me, though he keeps up a steady stream of complaints instead of being quiet—no one can hear him but me, so I suppose technically he’s not breaking any rules except the one I have about annoying me when I can’t talk back.
“I want to check out that book. Just make me corporeal for a brief moment. Maybe when I go back to my soul form I can take it with me.”