“Forget it.” I couldn't, even if I didn't understand it. I knew that face in the stone. I had seen it somewhere before. This room was eerie, warning that the Caster world was a Dark place, no matter whose side you were on.
Another torch ignited, and the stacks of old books, manuscripts, and Caster Scrolls revealed themselves. They radiated out from the rotunda in all directions, like spokes on a wheel, and disappeared into the darkness beyond. The last torch burst into flame, and I could see the curving mahogany desk where Marian should have been sitting.
It was empty. Though Marian always said the Lunae Libri was a place of old magic, neither Dark nor Light, without her the whole library felt pretty Dark.
“No one's here.” Link sounded defeated.
I grabbed a torch off the wall and handed it to him, taking another for myself. “They're down here.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do.”
I plowed ahead into the stacks as if I knew where I was going. The air was thick with the smell of the bent and crumbling spines of old books and ancient scrolls, the dusty oak shelves straining under the weight of hundreds of years and centuries of words. I held my torch up to the nearest shelf. “Toes: to Caste Hair on Your Maiden's. Tongues for Binding and Casting. Toffee: Casts Hidden Inside. We must be in the T's.”
“Destruction of Mortal Life, Total. That should be in the D's.” Link reached for the book.
“Don't touch that. It'll burn your hand.” I had learned the hard way, from The Book of Moons.
“Shouldn't we at least hide it or something? Behind the Toffee one?” Link had a point.
We hadn't gone ten feet when I heard a laugh. A girl's laugh, unmistakable, echoing off the carved ceilings. “You hear that?”
“What?” Link waved his torch, almost setting the nearest pile of scrolls on fire.
“Watch it. There's no fire escape down here.”
We reached a crossroads in the stacks. I heard it again, the almost musical laughter. It was beautiful and familiar, and the sound of it made me feel safe, the world I was standing in a little less foreign. “I think it's a girl laughing.”
“Maybe it's Marian. She's a girl.” I looked at him like he was insane, and he shrugged. “Sort of.”
“It's not Marian.” I motioned for him to listen, but the sound was gone. We walked in the direction of the laughter, and the passageway turned until we reached another rotunda, similar to the first.
“You think it's Lena and Ridley?”
“I don't know. This way.” I could barely follow the sound, but I knew who it was. Part of me always suspected I could find Lena no matter where she was. I couldn't explain it, I just knew.
It made sense. If our connection was so strong we could dream the same dreams and speak without speaking, why wouldn't I be able to sense where she was? It's like when you drive home from school, or some place you go every day, and you remember leaving the parking lot, then the next thing you know you're pulling into your driveway and you don't remember how you got there.
She was my destination. I was always on the way to Lena, even when I wasn't. Even when she wasn't on her way to me.
“A little farther.”
The next twist in the passage revealed a corridor covered with ivy. I held up my torch, and a brass lantern lit itself in the middle of the leaves. “Look.” The light from the lantern illuminated the outline of a doorway hidden beneath the vines. I felt along the wall until I found the cold, round iron of the latch. It was in the shape of a crescent. A Caster moon.
I heard it again, laughter. It had to be Lena. There are some things a guy just knows. I knew L. And I knew my heart wouldn't lead me astray.
My chest was pounding. I pushed open the door, heavy and groaning. It opened into a magnificent study. Along the far wall of the study, a girl was lying on an enormous four-poster bed, scribbling in a tiny red notebook.
“L!”
She looked up, surprised.
Only it wasn't Lena.
It was Liv.
6.15
Wayward Soul
The first moment hung in the air, silent and awkward. The second erupted into noisy confusion. Link yelled at Liv, who yelled at me, and I yelled at Marian, who waited for us to stop.
“What are you doin’ here?”
“Why did you leave me at the fair?”
“What is she doing here, Aunt Marian?”
“Come in.” Marian pulled the paneled door open and stepped back to let us pass. The door banged shut behind me, and I heard her bolt the lock. I felt a surge of panic, or claustrophobia, which didn't make any sense because the room wasn't small. But it felt close. The air was heavy, and I had the feeling that I was standing someplace very private, like a bedroom. Like the laughter, it felt familiar, even if it wasn't. Like the face in the stone.
“Where are we?”
“One question at a time, EW. I'll answer one of yours, and you'll answer one of mine.”
“What's Liv doing here?” I don't know why I was angry, but I was. Could anybody in my life be a normal person? Did everyone have to have a secret life?