Page 95 of The Mirror of Beasts

Endymion Dye.

I pressed a hand to my mouth to keep from making a noise, holding myself as still as the statues in the atrium.

Endymion and the other former members of the guild drifted into view, casting their sickly glow onto the nearby shelves of Immortalities. They were laden with stolen weapons and shields, looking like the worst of the fell creatures that prowled inside the pages of the books around them.

The book spines shivered against one another as they passed, as if stroked by the death magic that had remade the riders.

“I have but one command to make.”

Neve’s gaze shot to mine, the voice stripping away every other emotion in them but fear.

Lord Death stepped forward out of the dark air, lowering the hood of Arthur’s mantle to reveal himself to the others. I recoiled at the sight of him here, in such a sacred, safe place, even before Cabell’s head of dark hair appeared beside him.

Cabell leaned against the nearest bookshelf, his eyes on the ornate rug. At the sound of a cat spitting nearby, his own hackles seemed to rise, and he crossed his arms over his chest in a defensive posture I was all too familiar with.

The riders, a dozen in all, knelt to receive Lord Death’s orders. It became a terrible game to match their mutilated forms, the grisly alterations of their faces, to the Hollowers they had once been.

“It has come to my attention that you have all been keeping the knowledge of this library from me,” Lord Death said, his gaze sliding over to Cabell, who bowed his head, shamed. “That you hid this supply of powerful weapons.”

A rush of ice pushed through my blood as I understood what Cabell’s expression meant.

He led him here.

And there my brother stood, saying nothing as this monster strode through our home as if he deserved to be there, and there I was, unable to so much as breathe.

“I wondered to myself why,” Lord Death continued, “when you proclaim such fealty.”

“My lord—” Endymion began.

“Silence.” The word rose toward us like smoke, soft and silky, with a promise of something darker.

“I am left to assume that you do not believe that I can provide for all of your needs,” Lord Death continued, “that you do not trust in me, do not have complete loyalty to our cause. Rather than destroy the scourge of sorceresses, you have preserved their memories. You have retained relics they have created.”

He began to pace, using a finger to tip Immortalities off their shelf. One by one, they slammed to the floor.

“We only used their memories to find the treasures they stole,” Endymion protested.

Lord Death stopped, turning his grizzled face toward them. “Then I’m sure you will feel no pain in destroying this shrine to them.”

I sucked in a sharp breath, pressing my hand tighter to my mouth.

“Of … of course, my lord,” Endymion said, bowing his head. The attic receded around me as Lord Death held out a hand and a silver-black flame appeared there.

Endymion knew what his master wanted and raised both of his palms, as if in supplication. The flame danced as it passed between them. Endymion rose to his feet and turned toward the shelf on his left.

Heavy footsteps sounded from the other side of the library.

No, I thought desperately, don’t do it—don’t come out.

But Librarian had been trained to defend the library and all its occupants, whether they had a heartbeat or not, and he wouldn’t falter in it. Not even when he stood against the very same people who had tasked him with the role.

“Stop!” Librarian’s tinny voice rang out. “Destruction of library materials is strictly forbidden by the guild’s code!”

He had come prepared, a sword in one hand, a fire extinguisher in the other. The riders surrounded him, blocking his path to Lord Death. Even cast in jointed bronze, his face a mask of divine perfection, Librarian looked more human than the ghouls circling like a pack of ravening wolves.

Endymion held the flame to the nearest book, his face the very portrait of veneration as he looked to Lord Death for approval.

The dark flame caught with ease, racing along the edge of the shelf in a terrifying whoosh. Within moments, the entire shelf was ablaze.

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