Page 70 of A Dusk Of Stars

She wastes no time on greetings. She clears her throat, takes a stack of photos out of her robe and starts passing it around, saying, “On December 7th, in an abandoned house in Harald, Norway, three people were found dead, killed using an unfamiliar type of magic.”

My eyebrows pull down. It’s that incident they were talking about on TV. I take a look at the photo that finds its way to me. It’s a photo of someone’s face, but it takes me a second to realizethat’s what I’m looking at. It’s grim, possibly more than anything I’ve seen so far. The eyes are dead, the skin is grotesquely sagging, and the mouth is drooping in an expression of silent terror.

I notice no one other than Bane and myself is looking at the photos. It makes my frown grow deeper.

“The Authority eventually closed the case,” the woman says, “assigning the incident to a misfiring of Nature Magic.”

There’s a moment of silence during which I feel a dozen pairs of eyes fix on me.

Including the eyes of the fae-blooded woman. “What do you think about it, Miss Novak?” she asks.

My eyebrows shoot up. “Me?” I glance around the table. “Um, what do you mean?”

“Do you think it was a misfiring of Nature Magic?” the woman clarifies, a touch of impatience in her voice.

“Well, I don’t know how it’s relevant,” I say with an awkward laugh, “whatIthink about it.” I look at Serra when I ask, “Excuse me, but why am I even here? It was made clear to me that, as a part-time Librarian, I will no longer be participating in faculty meetings.”

“This is not a faculty meeting,” the fae-blooded woman cuts me off. “Does the name Baldur mean anything to you?”

“Don’t answer,” I hear Bane say and I turn to look at him only to find him staring at the woman with clear suspicion in his eyes. Then he shifts his focus onto me to explain, “There’s something going on here and you shouldn’t tell them anything until you find out what it is.”

I frown at him, uncomfortably aware of all the eyes on us. I don’t have to say anything. He lets out a scoff, but goes back to being an observer.

“Um,” I say as I turn back to the woman, “of course. He was this powerful vampire the Old Norse tribes thought to be a god.”

The fae-blooded woman nods. “Around eleven centuries ago, just as it was prophesied,” she starts matter-of-factly, “the vampire by the name of Baldur ascended to the throne, soon showing the world his mission was to enslave the Scions and take the Originals’ powers for himself. We don’t know what happened, but he failed in this and got blown to four pieces, each of which landed in a different place. The pieces were all dormant for many hundreds of years…”

It makes me frown. What nonsense is this?

“Until now,” the woman continues, “because we have strong evidence that the Harald incident is actually a byproduct of him waking from an eleven-century long sleep.”

She keeps looking at me. Before I even realize what I’m doing, I let out a laugh. “I’m sorry, who are you? And where’s the Pied Piper?”

“We’re the Order of the Dawn, Miss Novak,” the woman replies as she sweeps her hand around the room. “Our mission, for the last eleven centuries, has been to protect the world in case Baldur ever manages to return.”

“Is this you trying to poach me?” I ask with an awkward laugh. “I’m sad to say I wouldn’t be of any use to you.”

“Actually,” Serra speaks, for the first time since the people showed up, “you’ll be playing a vital role in our efforts.”

Ourefforts?

“As the Aurora,” Lorcan says, sounding a lot less smug than usual, “it’s your job to protect the world when it’s in danger like this.”

“Excuse me?” I ask with a frown, sensing Bane tense up next to me.

Is this a dream, I think to myself.

“Have you ever read the Sleeping Beauty, Miss Novak?” the fae-blooded woman asks me.

“Of course I have,” I reply with a shrug. “That’sthe Aurora you’re referring to?”

“Yes.”

She looks like someone you don’t want to mess with, but I raise my eyebrows at her. It’s in a mocking voice that I ask, “The damsel in distress who was preyed on by the old vampire woman driven by jealousy?”

She shakes her head. “No, that’s a more recent, twisted version of the fairy tale.” She leans back in her chair. “Our experts agree that it got confused with stories of an old vampire woman who enchanted a spindle to draw blood from young girls and put them under her influence.”

Serra cuts in. “The real story is much,mucholder, Miss Novak. The princess from the fairy tale, she is no real-life princess. Her name isn’tAurora. It’stheAurora, meaning the being embodying the cosmic will to live.”

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