Page 4

CHAPTER FOUR

A va woke up.

Or rather, she didn’t.

She knew she was dreaming, even if the world around her was just as vivid as the waking world. Namely, because her damn clothes were dry, and she wasn’t cold and fucking miserable.

One minute, she’d been standing inside a fae’s tree home, about to have her eyes stolen. She had been screaming for someone to save her, before the door had burst in. And then…

She was standing here.

In the strangest library she had ever seen.

It was two floors tall, reaching high up overhead some eighty feet or more. Rows and rows of books, scrolls, and stacks of old paper tied together were stored together in a maddening disarray. This wasn’t a neat and tidy library—this was barely-contained chaos. Stacks of books held up other stacks of books, which formed the platform for even more books.

Candles burned in sconces all over the walls. And down the center of the room was a long, elaborately carved white and gold banquet table that could easily sit thirty people. But it was clear it hadn’t hosted a dinner in a very, very long time. Someone had decided it was going to serve a different purpose.

The table was covered with papers and books, and scrolls, yes—but also inkwells and pens. Jars of things she couldn’t identify. Wooden boxes, labeled in a handwriting that was so over-flourished she couldn’t read it quickly enough, and there was too much to try to take in to stop and study them.

Tools and metal devices she couldn’t recognize. Something that kind of looked like an astrolabe? But not like one she’d ever seen before.

The smell of incense was thick in the air, along with the smell of leaves and the dampness of the woods in the rain. Because dominating the far wall of the library, growing up from the floor and through the roof some three stories above, was an enormous and winding tree, its branches tangling with the archways of the stone architecture until the two became indistinguishable.

Within several of its branches were built more bookshelves, stacks of scrolls tucked within knots of its bows. The leaves shimmered with amber droplets of rain coming in from above, catching the light from the thousands of candles.

Walking into the room slowly, she stared at the room in awe, her mouth agape, as she took in all the detail around her. Slowly, she began to realize that she might not be safe here, either. Because the things in one of the jars resembled human fingers a little too much.

Or because of the box that was labeled Teeth Extracted From the Living , next to one labeled Teeth Extracted From the Dead. As if there was some kind of important difference between the two.

Another hint was the stack of papers was held down with a human skull that she knew wasn’t a prop. And the heart in a glass case that she was going to bet money had belonged to a person, once.

Shutting her eyes for a moment, she tried to steady her breathing. This was a dream. But that didn’t mean it couldn’t hurt her.

And she knew precisely who had brought her here into this dream. “Serrik, if you’re going to hurt me. Or kill me. Or rip out my eyes. Or…do… anything to me, that I’m not going to like, of any shape or form, please just get it over with. I’m having a really miserable fucking day and I’d really just like to skip the fucking pretenses, if you would be so kind.”

“Hardly.”

The voice came directly from behind her. Ava jumped and whirled to face him. Sure enough, the man—fae—she had seen before was standing directly behind her, only a foot away, looming. His expression was cold—impassive and unreadable.

Taking several steps away from him, she braced herself for whatever he was going to do. But he simply stood there, watching her. When he didn’t speak, she went first. “I know you’re the reason I’m trapped here.”

“I never denied I was.” He turned from her to walk toward the roaring fireplace. Two glasses of red wine were already poured and waiting on a table. Picking them up, he returned to her, deftly holding one between the tips of his sharp, golden nails.

It felt stupid to take the wine. It felt like an insult not to. After staring at the glass, and him, for what was probably three seconds but felt like thirty, she finally took it. “What do you want from me?”

“A contract, as I said.” He was as expressive as one of the ancient oil paintings on the walls that were watching her from their inky surroundings, little more than ghostly faces in a sea of paint that had grown dark with age. “We both wish to be free of this place.”

“I wouldn’t have to want that, if it weren’t for you.” She glared at him. “You dragged me here. It’s your fault I’m stuck here in the first place. What’re you going to give me in trade for that?”

“Nothing. For your life is worthless.” He sipped his wine. The statement was made as if it were as simple as saying the sky was blue.

“Oh—oh fuck you. ” She laughed, pacing away from him. She knew he was dangerous. But she wasn’t going to stand there and be insulted, no matter if he could rip her eyes out or flay her skin off.

“It is not a statement of judgement upon your person, Ava. I have no influence over the mortal world on anyone or anything of any importance or value.” With the grace of a panther walking along the branches of his enclosure, Serrik moved to the long table that ran down the center of the room. “It was only your lack of importance that allowed me to draw you here in the first place.”

“That didn’t give you permission. Or the right.” Now she wanted to throw her glass of wine into his smooth, expressionless face. “Let me go.”

“I fear it is too late. I cannot. Even if I wished to, I am unable. You are now bound to the book you carry in the waking world, and it was imprisoned within the Web by the same jailers who placed me at its center.” He took another sip of the wine before putting the goblet down. “It will remain with you until you are unfit to carry it any longer. Such as you saw with Gregor.”

“So. I’ll just age until I turn into a corpse like that?” A cold shiver ran down her spine at the idea of just rotting away into nothing.

“No.” He huffed. It was the closest thing to an emotion she’d seen from him so far. “You are now…for lack of a better word, immortal.”

Ava nearly choked on her wine. “I’m sorry— what? ”

“Immortal. You shall not age. You shall not die from illness or violence,” Serrik repeated, as casually as if he were explaining the weather. “Though you can suffer great pain and calamity. And you may come, as all those who have before you, to desire that death were possible.”

She chugged the rest of her wine.

And went for the bottle.

She might have caught a ghost of a smile on Serrik’s face, but she was probably mistaken as she poured herself a new glass. “So I’m immortal, trapped with a creepy book, and stuck in some nightmare…prison…Web…thing. With you, and a bunch of other monster fae who are going to try to eat me, or parts of me. What’s the contract you’re so eager to make?”

Serrik moved with liquid grace to stand beside the enormous tree. In the candlelight, his shadow stretched impossibly across the floor, reaching toward her like grasping fingers.

“The book you carry can serve as a map.” His voice was like thunder in the distance. “A map to keys. A map to things that can unmake this place that now binds us both.”

Ava’s laugh was sharp and brittle. “And you want me to, what, help you escape? After you’ve basically kidnapped me without so much as a hi, how are you? ”

“You misunderstand.” His long fingers traced the bark of the tree almost lovingly. “The immortality is not my doing. It is the book’s nature to preserve its bearer. However, your frustration at my involvement in bringing you here is…understandable.”

“Gee, thanks. So generous. Understandable. ” Ava slammed the wine glass down, dark liquid sloshing over ancient parchments. “And will you just tell me what you actually want me to do? Besides ‘set you free.’”

For the first time, something like emotion flickered across Serrik’s face—a brief flash of desperation swiftly hidden behind his mask of indifference. “I require a partner. Someone who can work my will outside this room where I am trapped.” He leaned forward. “The Web has wardens, Ava. They would see me destroyed, rather than freed.”

“And I should care because…?”

“Now that you carry the tome, they will come for you.” His voice dropped to little more than a whisper. “They will sense that Gregor is dead, and the book has a new keeper. And the hunt shall begin.”

Ava crossed her arms, trying to hide the tremor in her hands. “I’m guessing these wardens aren’t the forgiving types who’ll let me explain this was all a huge mistake?”

“They would sooner tear your mind apart to ensure this prison stays shut. And, even worse, they will seek to use you to wield the book’s secrets for their own ends.” Serrik tilted his head just slightly to the side. “Particularly since you are unable to protect yourself. You are not a witch. Without access to power, the spells within the book are useless to you. You are vulnerable.”

“Braega was right. I can’t even use the stupid magic book?” She groaned. “I’m carrying around a fucking paperweight that’s going to get me hunted and killed? Why did you even bring me here, then?”

“I had little choice.”

“Oh, thanks!”

“You did ask.”

Ava glared at him in silence.

Serrik shook his head, took a breath, and tried again. “I can provide to you the means of accessing the power within that tome, Ava.” He took a step toward her, and then another. “A witch may be made, if they have a patron willing to graft their power unto their mortal frame.”

She grimaced and took a step back. “So my options are to…be powerless in the Web, wait until something eats me, or wait until the ‘wardens’ come for me. Or to side with the creepy asshole who is the reason I’m trapped in the first place, and…let you become my so-called patron?”

Serrik moved closer, the scent of rain and lightning following him, mixed with that strange scent of citrus, herbs, and something else she couldn’t name. His glowing golden eyes were hypnotic. “Personally, I would have not chosen those words. But, regardless of how you found yourself here, I am promising you a path toward life. All other paths lead to a painful and miserable death, some centuries of suffering into the future.”

“Well, when you put it like that, how could a girl refuse?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, but her mind was racing through possibilities, each more unpleasant than the last.

“Quip all you like. Even now, they sense your presence. The two who came to your ‘rescue’ will prove to be dangers to you. Be wary, once you awake. Your arrival will draw much attention from the others.”

“More fae?” Ava wasn’t looking forward to that. “Friends of yours?”

“I have no friends.” Serrik’s voice was flat. “Ibin and Nos. Do not trust them. Do not trust anyone. Especially those who offer protection or kindness. It is false.”

“Right. Because you’ve set a sparkling example,” Ava muttered.

“Because unlike myself”—he ignored her sarcasm—“they will lie. They are made of lies, Ava. They will promise freedom while binding you tighter. They will speak of safety while leading you to your destruction.”

“And I should trust you on this because…?”

“Because I have shown you exactly what I am.” He spread his golden-nailed hands. “I have made no pretenses of any kind. I offer a contract of mutual benefit, nothing more. I offer you my power and freedom from this prison in return for my own release. That is all.”

“I don’t know.” She frowned, taking a step back from him. The world felt funny. Was she waking up?

“You must choose soon.” Serrik moved closer, his voice urgent but controlled. “They will try to turn you against me with truths and half-truths about what I am, what I have done. They will speak of my cruelty, my ambition, my bloodstained past.”

Ava stepped back, bumping into the table. “And will it be true?”

Serrik’s golden eyes gleamed. “Every word. But remember this—they want to control you. They will turn you into a puppet, dancing on strings of false friendship until you have served their purpose. They will trade you away for their benefit, just the same as Braega threatened, mark my words.”

Shadows were creeping in around her vision. She felt dizzy. It was hard to keep her eyes open.

“Time to wake up, Ava.” Serrik’s breath was warm against her ear. “When next you dream, I expect an answer. Contract or no contract. Heed my warning—those who come whispering words of friendship come seeking a power they have coveted since before your ancestors knew written words.”

The library began to dissolve, books and candles blurring into streaks of light. The last thing Ava saw was Serrik’s expressionless face and his final warning?—

“Trust nothing, my little butterfly.”