Page 29 of The Secrets of Roan Island

But it isn’t the same hallway.

The book isn’t here.

The lights are different.

And the paintings. My stomach seizes as I look upon them, my steps faltering the further I walk. Each frame seems to be in the same place, but the art depicts scenes rather than people. A realistic depiction of a man holding a woman, blood dripping from his lips at her neck, her mouth open and eyes closed in ecstasy.

My skin tingles at the garish painting. The violence shouldn’t turn me on, but the intimacy of it makes the space between my legs throb.

Painting after painting depicts two people locked in a kind of battle, clearly sexual, though bloody.

I swallow, unnerved, but continue.

When I reach a turn, only one way is lit with flickering candles. I follow the light down the stairs and through another hall, a mirror image of the route I’ve taken every day from myroom to the library. It’s clearly the path whoever went before me took, and I have a creeping suspicion they lit the lights to lead me here. Am I following a guiding light or walking into a trap?

The last thing I want is to find Hammish Roan at the end of this trail.

The library door is open, light streaming into the hall. There are no sounds coming from inside, so I venture forward, cautious and attuned to sudden noise and movement. The room I’ve spent days in isn’t the room I’ve been in at all. Books line the walls, but this room is brighter, lit by strange lamps glowing with a blue-white flame. Rather than busts of noteworthy men, the shelves are lined with additional books, holders to contain loose-leaf papers, and binders marked with handwritten labels. The tables are strewn with open books, and instead of portraits, maps decorate the walls. Maps of the island, maps of the surrounding region, New Essik, and maps I don’t recognize. Maps of strange topography I’ve never seen. This is a library in use, rather than one that serves as decoration.

“I knew you’d come.”

With a start, I spin to face the voice.

“Shemaiah.”

He’s leaning back in a chair with his feet crossed casually over the table, his hands interlocked over his stomach, staring straight at the door. Waiting. His lip twitches ever so slightly, so fast I almost miss it.

I set the candelabra down on a small desk close to me and put out the candles. They aren’t necessary. “What is this place?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes! Yes, it matters.”

Shemaiah puts his feet down on the floor and leans forward, elbows on the table. He takes a deep breath and huffs a slight groan, then clears his throat before saying, “We need your help, Miss Rose.”

“Who are you talking–”

At the sound of Noah’s voice, I whirl toward the fireplace. Except instead of a fireplace, as in the other library, it’s Noah standing in a wide doorway. Beyond him is a bright room that looks like the laboratories in the science department at the university.

When our eyes catch, he scowls and his eyes dilate, so dark they almost look black. He presses both hands into the doorframe on either side of him as if he’s trying to hold himself back. Muscles flexed. Expression hard. His gaze jumps from me to Shemaiah. “What the fuck did you do?”

“Matters are dire,” Shemaiah replies.

Noah’s chest heaves as he draws in a deep breath. “You shouldn’t be here.”

It’s clear he’s talking to me, even though he keeps his gaze averted.

“Where exactly are we? What’s wrong?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Noah says at the same time as Shemaiah says, “The Gate House.”

I’m not sure what he means, but I’m more concerned with the look Noah is giving me. There’s a broken intensity in his eyes. It’s the look of a man defeated, but it’s matched by a buzzing, coiled tension like he’s holding back a powerful force, keeping the tide of whatever personal battle he’s immersed in at bay.

“Take her to her room,” Noah says to Shemaiah, his voice harsher than I’ve ever heard.

“And waste an opportunity? No.” Shemaiah ignores Noah’s glare and turns to me. “You’re a researcher, aren’t you, Miss Rose?”

I nod slowly, unsure what is happening between the brothers but aware I’m suddenly between them. My skin feels hot, and my stomach clenches with unease.

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