Page 49

One of my books was missing. I frowned. I had been rotating through the books since the librarian apparently made a stink about them being gone for too long, but the one missing wasn’t just any book, but the one I’d tucked my notes inside of. Had I returned the wrong book by mistake?

Amalthea was called away on court business. Normally, she accompanied me when I refreshed my stock of books. I debated waiting for her, but I was so close to getting this latest passage fully translated.

It had been coming more quickly, even though I was splitting my time between practicing my mental shields with Raphael, physical training with Demos, and translating. Progress had been the slowest on sparring, but Raphael appeared almost frustrated by how quickly I’d developed my mental shields.

Translating… I was close. There were a few gaps I could infer, but there was one term in the opening I couldn’t grasp.

Though I could translate other pages, the opening pages of a grimoire served as critical context for the mythical tome.

I’d seen something similar to at least one of the mysterious glyphs in the missing book, I was certain.

This is the book of the necromancer. The witch who alone serves Anagenni, they who _______. Through the goddess’s will, the necromancer has dominion over bone and blood, ____ and ____. The ______ bow to the necromancer.

I made a quick calculation and decided my desire to finish my work outweighed how uncomfortable the librarian made me.

The librarian was surprisingly absent from his post. I took that as a good omen and went inside, scurrying around the stacks of books to find the now familiar corner that held the Old Runyk books.

Where is it? I scanned the spines, but the book I was looking for wasn’t there.

I squatted low and pulled out each book one by one.

Maybe it hadn’t been reshelved? That would mean I’d have to ask the librarian, and just the thought sent a shiver down my spine.

Maybe it had fallen behind a piece of furniture in my room.

“Looking for this?” an old, cracked voice said.

I jerked upright and turned .

The librarian stood just a few feet away. His appearance was every bit as ghastly as I remembered, skin as thin of the frailest parchment bound in the texts he guarded. But that wasn’t what I focused on.

The missing book was in his hand.

“Oh, um, yes,” I squeaked. “I didn’t mean to return it. I wasn’t done with the book.”

“Of course,” he said congenially.

He made no move to give me the book, so I was forced to walk to him and take it. I opened the front and frowned.

“Or were you looking for these?”

He held a few sheets of parchment aloft, covered in my drafted translations. Relief went through me at the realization I wouldn’t need to start all over again.

“Yes, thank you.” I held out my hand, but the librarian kept the papers lifted.

I looked up at him in confusion.

“Did you think,” the librarian said mildly, “that I would not figure out what you were doing?”

I took a small step backwards. “I’m working on a project for the king.”

The librarian barked a laugh, the sound like a crack of thunder. “Did you think I wouldn’t know who you really serve? That I wouldn’t recognize you for what you really are? As if the king would ever ask for this. When he learns what I’ve done, he’ll reward me. ”

What he’s done?

His voice turned into that hypnotic lull of a thrall. “Now stay still so I can kill you.”

I barely had time to process the threat before the librarian lunged at me. It was nothing like the lunges Amalthea made when we sparred, or when Demos modeled his movements. This was a vampire’s lunge, fast, deadly, and unstoppable.

The librarian grabbed my shoulders in his hands, nails digging in.

“Let go!” I cried.

Startled, his grip halted for a second. I had only the moment to reach into my deck and pull the one card I still had. Half a thought pulled the magic from the enchantment.

Bzzz!

A cloud of insects manifested between us, diving for the vampire.

The sound that came from the vampire was nothing human. He roared as the swarm of wasps attacked. His limbs swung wildly, attempting to swat them away.

They’d buy me scant seconds. They blocked his vision, but there was no chance I could run and escape in time.

There was only one move open to me.

I pulled the dagger from my belt, the bronze blade surprisingly light. The wasps continued to sting the vampire, but he was once more moving towards me.

I lunged.

And planted the blade squarely in his chest.

The ancient vampire crumpled to the ground .

His face turned from pale to the color of ash. His skin began to crumble, turning to dust and falling in until there was nothing left but bones and the clothes he’d worn. The wasps disappeared with the spell. My dagger clattered to the ground, no longer embedded in the flesh.

So this was how a vampire died.

A strange calm had come over me. I stood transfixed, watching as centuries of undeath faded into nothing.

I had done that.

Without thought, I smiled.

What transpired after was a blur. Amalthea found me there, drawn by a vision.

“Samara! What happened?”

The story stumbled out of me, and she pulled me into her arms. I didn’t manage to lift my arms, and her brows knitted together in concern. “We need to tell Raphael.”

“Can you?” I asked. “I just want to go back to my room and work on the translation.” I was so, so close to deciphering the last words of the critical first page.

Amalthea looked at me like I had lost it. “Sam, you shouldn’t be alone right now. This… this would be a lot for anyone, but especially… ”

Especially someone as fragile as me. She didn’t say it, but I knew what she meant. Yet at the moment, I didn’t feel fragile.

I didn’t feel anything.

“Let’s go to my rooms, and I’ll tell Raphael to meet us there,” she suggested.

Suddenly tired, I did as she bid. Raphael came immediately once she sent word, furious.

“How did this happen?” he snarled.

“Raphael,” Amalthea said, her tone reproachful.

She had cleared one chair from the mountain of dresses it was buried under and given me a cup of tea.

I stared at Raphael. His eyes were wild.

He was dressed in court fashion, like he’d just run out of a meeting to get here.

“I felt nothing in the bond.” His anger was on a tenuous leash.

I slumped in the chair. “Then it seems all my training has paid off. You were just wrong about me being safe here.”

Raphael jerked back like I’d slapped him. I regretted the words, but they were true, weren’t they?

“What happened?” he demanded.

It was Thea who answered, repeating everything I’d told her. Only when I had told her, I’d omitted the questions.

“Why did translating the grimoire make him want to kill me?” I asked.

Did you think I wouldn’t know who you really serve? That I wouldn’t recognize you for what you really are? The question… in the panic… I hadn’t known what he meant. It made no sense given the context.

The two exchanged a look. Pieces fit in.

“He thought I serve the creature Raphael was sent to hunt, didn’t he?” I pressed. The necromancer .

“He must have thought you served Anagenni,” he explained with reluctance.

I frowned. “You said the vampires worship Anagenni.”

“Vampires do revere Anagenni,” Amalthea explained. “But it’s not precisely true to say she is a beloved goddess. They fear her.”

“But why?” Why wouldn’t the undead love the goddess of death? What did they have to fear? Raphael clearly knew her well enough, but the librarian had rejected the idea his king would have anything to do with her grimoire.

Raphael came closer. “Don’t think on this anymore, Samara. Vampires… they can go mad with age, making it impossible to puzzle out their motives.”

My head slumped between my palms. “So I should just live in fear of the next vampire who goes crazy and attacks me?” Gods, what a hopeless thing.

“You’re not going to live in fear.” Raphael pulled my hands away, making me look up at him. “You’re brave, Samara. You saved yourself. If any good can come of this, let it be that. You’re not the same girl you were.”

I gave a small snort and looked away. “I was terrified. I got lucky.” Lucky I’d had the wasp card, lucky I’d yelled loud enough to startle the vampire, lucky I’d drawn the dagger in time and that it had landed true. “I’m not like you.”

“ Of course you were afraid. Samara, there’s no bravery without fear. No courage is born untested. But you triumphed over a deadly, powerful foe. Not a fearful dove—but apparently a little viper,” he said with what I might have dared consider admiration. “Take pride in that.”

Brave. Courageous. Could those words really apply to me? Reconciling Raphael’s view of my actions with my own was difficult. I studied the flames, thinking of how I’d felt when the vampire had turned to dust. For the first time, I’d felt like I was in control.

“You won, Samara. And if need be, you will again. Trust in that.”