Page 4 of The Fifth Soul

Halfway inside the room, a murmur of voices begins. I look back at the front door, but no one appears.

“It’s them.” Matias points.

I look around but do not see anyone. “Who?”

“The objects.” His voice trembles.

I pause all movement and pay close attention to what is being said.

Take me.

Take me.

No, take me.

Bianca, is that you?

Matias, you sweet boy, have you finally come for me?

“They know our names?” Matias’s horrified expression matches how I’m feeling inside. “Do you think this is a trap?”

I shake my head. These items are here for a reason. I do not know why, but they call us because they wish to escape.

“We need to get out of here as soon as possible.”

I run my gaze through the items from shelf to shelf, ignoring the voices. There’s supposed to be a book here. Only one book. The man told us that much. In the seventh row, I finally see it. The book lays there silently, unlike all the other items surrounding us. The quiet makes a chill run down my spine.

“Is that it?” Matias stands beside me.

“It’s the only book I see.”

“This doesn’t feel right,” he says.

It should sound funny coming from a thief, but I know what he means. We don’t have many morals, but this feeling of wrongness comes from the item and not the deed.

We wait for a few heartbeats before the rushing of footsteps breaks through the whispers of the books.

“Shit.” I look back at the front door.

“Time to go.” Matias reaches for the book.

Once in his hand, we turn and run out of the vault. We make it a few steps outside the room before I spot a man quickly approaching. He is alone as he passes us and goes into the vault. I thank the Fates once again for my gift.

“Bianca,” Matias whispers my name in a shaky voice.

I turn to face him and freeze at his expression. His lips say my name over and over again, but no sound comes out. Then, his body tilts to the side, and I rush to catch him before he tips over.

“What is happening?” I hold on to his shoulders as his body shakes. “Matias?”

He doesn’t answer me, but suddenly, his body stops shaking and turns limp. I call his name twice, but I get no reaction.

Without hesitation, I drop my gift. “Help.” I look around desperately. “Please, someone help me!”

The man who had run into the vault rushes to my call. He watches me from the doorway as I hold my friend’s limp body. His eyes run over the room, assessing the situation.

I am about to scream for him to please do something when he finally speaks. “It’s the cursed book in his hand.”

“What?”

---