Page 26 of Queen of the Wicked (Afterlife #1)
Alessia
T he library of Hell was much more extensive than Alessia expected.
After spending the afternoon with Erebos as her tour guide, she was even more lost than she had been when she first arrived.
The castle was designed in what she could only refer to as an eighteenth century Gothic-style mansion.
Turrets, arched stained glass windows, and vaulted ceilings gave the halls an ominous, foreboding sensation that skittered along her skin.
But it also intrigued her. Every hidden passageway and darkened corner reminded her of how many years the castle had been there. The paintings on the walls depicting various battles and warriors Alessia had never heard of were proof of that.
Even with the walls practically bleeding from the death it had witnessed, those employed by Erebos seemed happy.
They bowed as he passed. Not out of fear, but rather respect.
One of the cooks in the kitchen offered them a basket of fruit and sandwiches to bring with them to the library, worried that the lord might go hungry in the two hours since he had last eaten.
It perplexed Alessia. It was hard to accomplish for one to be feared and respected, and she wondered what he did to the demons he tortured to transition them into the kind, compassionate people she’d encountered thus far on the tour.
Erebos led her through corridor after corridor until they finally made it to a set of large, painted black doors that towered over even Erebos. Two brass knockers in the shape of gargoyles took up most of each entry, and Erebos motioned for her to open them.
“Why aren’t you going first?” she asked.
“These doors are warded, and since you currently possess my powers, you will have to open them. Place your hand on the gargoyle, and it should detect them.”
With a deep breath, Alessia followed the instructions. A slight vibration echoed into her palm, and with a soft click, the door creaked open.
The smell of old books and scripts flooded her nose instantly, reminding her of home.
The house she was raised in wasn’t much, but her parents had made sure there was a small library filled with books.
As a kid, she’d spend her days in that beaten-up rocking chair by the window, letting the sunlight kiss her face as she read for hours upon hours.
But the library of Hell exceeded every expectation she carried. It had to be twenty stories high with cobblestone floors and black shelves spanning every inch of the walls.
She tipped her head higher, gasping when she noticed the dome ceiling.
It displayed a garden of sorts, with red and black flowers blossoming between clumps of greenery.
With the crimson sky filtering in through more stained-glass windows, it was as if the garden was brought to life, flourishing beneath the sunlight.
“This is…” Alessia couldn’t even formulate words that would be sufficient to describe it. She looked to Erebos for help, but he seemed just as mesmerized. Not by his surroundings, though. His eyes were trained on her.
Like a child being caught with his hand in the cookie jar, he ripped his gaze from hers to stare at the endless rows of books. “What is it you desire to read? I’ll lead you in the right direction.”
Various females walked amongst the levels, draped in black cloaks and red hoods.
Alessia couldn’t make out any of their faces.
Some were reading at tables, and others were filing books away, but they all had one thing in common: they noticed the newcomers, instantly rising to curtsy at the royal who had entered the room.
“They work for the archives,” Erebos explained. “The head librarian is around here somewhere. I will introduce you if we happen to run into her.”
“Is this Hell’s version of the Sacred Scripts?”
Erebos arched a brow. “How do you know of the Sacred Scripts?”
“I’m knowledgeable in all things related to Heaven, Erebos.
My parents conducted my studies when I was old enough to learn.
The Sacred Scripts are where the most treasured books of the history of Heaven lie, including the Book of Life for the righteous.
I’m assuming you house the Book of Death here in your libraries? From the Book of Jubilees?”
A flicker of emotion passed across his face, but Alessia couldn’t decipher it. “Come,” he said. “I will show you around. If you happen to find something along the way, feel free to take it back to your room.”
They spent the next two hours wandering the different levels of the library, and the entire time, neither spoke. The women in cloaks never whispered a word, so Alessia took that as a silent request for her to remain quiet as well.
Finally, on the top floor, Alessia noticed none of the women in cloaks were around them, so she finally asked, “Do you have books on black magic?”
Erebos stopped abruptly, growing rigid. He turned to face her, his voice dropping incredibly low. “Do not speak those words aloud in here. We don’t carry books on the subject.”
“But how am I supposed to learn to wield it if there aren’t any books to teach me how to use it?”
Erebos gently clasped her wrist, tugging her into a hidden alcove behind one of the bookshelves. “If anyone learns you have this power, Alessia, you will be eagerly sought after by King Bastian and his army. You will be in extreme danger. Do you understand?”
Alessia nodded, breathless from the desperation in his eyes.
“I am going to find a place where it is safe for you to practice, but until then, you must not speak of this to anyone if you wish to keep yourself safe. It is imperative.”
“Okay,” she whispered. “I won’t speak of it again.”
Erebos’s hand landed on her hip, his fingers pressing into the gown. Alessia couldn’t tear her gaze away from his, her eyes dipping to his lips that were so close to hers.
Being friends would be much easier said than done.
Suddenly, light from the nearby window cast a glow onto one of the rows of bookshelves.
Alessia eased out of Erebos’s grasp and wandered over to the light, running her fingertips along the titles in place.
Many of them carried dust. She wondered how long it had been since anyone had journeyed to the top floor.
“Well, I guess I have my answer,” Alessia mused, grabbing a black book with silver italics. Erebos seemed confused until she flipped it around, dusting it off to show him the title.
Erebos paled. “How…”
The Book of Death lay in her palms, a satisfied grin tugging at her lips.
Although she hadn’t read the original Book of Life that was held within the Sacred Scripts, her parents seemed to know it by heart.
It held all the rules of the realm of Heaven, telling the story of how the realm came into existence.
She assumed the Book of Death had the same, so she clutched it tightly to her chest, vowing to learn everything she could about the realm she currently resided in.
“That title hasn’t been seen in centuries,” he breathed.
“Or just hasn’t been found in centuries since it’s been collecting dust up here.”
Erebos shook his head. “Impossible. I have searched for decades trying to locate it. I’ve taken apart this library time and time again. I would have seen it.”
“Guess it’s our lucky day then, huh?”
Erebos remained rooted to the cobblestone as a woman cloaked in red rather than black entered the top level of the library.
The woman pushed her hood down to reveal a wrinkled face and a silver braid cascading down her spine.
“Your Majesty,” she greeted, lips pursed.
“I did not realize we would be graced with your presence today.” Her eyes settled on Alessia, cocking her head to the side. “A strange companion you have brought.”
“Elithe,” Erebos acknowledged, dipping his chin. “This is Alessia Eastwood. She will be a guest of ours for the foreseeable future. Alessia, this is Elithe, the head librarian.”
“You’re missing a part of my title,” Elithe chided.
“Also a talented seer,” he added. “She is a witch.”
Elithe tilted her head again, studying Alessia. “And what are you? You smell…” She inhaled deeply through her nose, causing Alessia to shudder. “You are not human, nor an angel… Certainly not demon…”
Alessia held the book up, causing the witch’s eyes to widen. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out, actually. Do you reside here permanently? I didn’t realize witches went to Hell.”
The witch snorted. “They used to. Well, some of us. Before, the realms craved balance, and now… If King Bastian could get his hands on me, he would.”
“It would be a waste,” Erebos replied softly. “You would not give him what he seeks. Your progress has been outstanding to watch, Elithe. ”
“Indeed,” she hummed in agreement. “Alessia, would you mind if I touched your forehead? Just for a moment.” Before she could, Erebos yanked Alessia out of her grasp.
“You won’t lay a finger on her without permission,” he warned.
The witch eyed him curiously, understanding filling her features.
“I see,” she said, fixing her hood back into place.
With another glance at Alessia, she made to brush past them, placing a hand on Erebos’s shoulder.
“Be careful, Lord of Hell. You’re playing with fire, and the Makers will not tolerate it for long.
” She huffed a laugh, pointing to the book in Alessia’s hands.
“In fact, it seems they have already started.”
“When Elithe said King Bastian would want to get his hands on her, what did she mean?” Seated at one of the tables on the top floor of the library, Alessia kept her voice in a hushed whisper in fear of the witch catching wind of their conversation.
She’d been flipping through pages of the Book of Death while Erebos watched her with intrigue, seeming content with keeping her company.
The lord tensed for a heartbeat before he said, “Decades ago, when King Amos sat on the throne, the realms were a lot different.”