Page 15 of Buried Secret 295

I feel nothing but honesty. “Fuck these emotions.” My body shivers at them. It’s been a long time since I felt them in my body, and now I feel mine and others. Constantine looks slightly confused, and I wave him off. “No worries, I won’t tell people you have them. I believe you. I just am not used to it.”

“When you say emotions, what did you pick up?” He steepled his fingers as if thinking.

“I didn’t feel much, but then I felt like an at-peace surrender. Acceptance? Then, it almost felt like pride. I am just guessing here. It’s different.” I feel like a toddler who is learning how to self-regulate.

His left lip lifts in a smile. “Keep that tidbit between us for now. Let me know what you feel in any upcoming situations. We need to grow this. I have a protection spell against empaths, and I am curious if it’s because we are DNA-related. It might make people twitchy if it gets out. I will sort out an amulet to help with that.” He nods, and I want to expand on that, but he claps his hands. “Let me teach you about your powers.”

Chapter eleven

By the time Ileave Constantine, I am exhausted. He leaves me where my permanent room will be and tells me to make it whatever I want. He looks pretty pleased with my progress today. However, when I open the doors to my new room, I feel empty as I stand in a void of space. I try to visualize anything else, but somehow, my brain can’t seem to make anything besides my cell. It is the place that my mind thinks of when creating a space.

Maybe my brain can take it a step further. Even though he isn’t there, and I know this is something that my brain is creating, I still walk over to my favorite imperfection. My finger touches the imperfection, which is exactly how I remember it. No matter how much time has passed, I will never forget it. I take my hand and knock on the wall three times. My breath catches as I wait for any movement or noise on the other side. My lip quivers as Ireach up and knock louder. Maybe he didn’t hear me. “Fuck!” I scream as I take my palm and slap the wall three times. All the ways they could be torturing him play in my head. Is he being hurt right now? What if he is dead, and I stand here on the other side helpless?

Tears are in my eyes. This place even smells exactly like it did, yet I can’t hear him. “203!” I scream, throwing myself at the wall and hitting it. Anger rises, and I throw my cot against the wall before hitting it again. I kick and hit the bedding all while I scream until my voice goes hoarse, crying out as I sob, sliding down the metal wall onto the floor. It feels like he is dead, and at this moment, I can’t find it in me to want to live in a world where he isn’t in it. He feels like he is half of my soul and took all the good parts with him. If my genetics don’t kill me, living in the world without him doesn’t seem like a possibility.

I cry until I cannot anymore. I am exhausted, yet I cannot stay in here a second longer. My depression is making me spiral, and if I don’t pull myself out of this, I don’t see it happening. My past insecurities are returning, and I feel I am failing Constantine. Constantine acted like this would be a simple task, and I couldn’t even do that right. I can’t bear to face him and let him see my shortcomings. What’s going to happen when he figures out I am not worth the trouble? I don’t think I can do this without his help.

I slam the door to the room before reaching inward and pulling my shadows outward, extending them to show me how to find the library. My shadows whisper encouragement. The study is the other place that he said was always consistent here. The library probably has a quiet corner or something I can hide out and sleep. Maybe even a comfortable chair. It’s not like I couldn’t sleep practically anywhere; a shiver runs down my spine—anywhere but the cell.

I close my eyes outside my bedroom door and remember what Constantine said about how this world works. Every part of me wants to doubt that this will be as easy as he said. That doubt creeps in again, and the feeling of being inadequate takes over. What makes me think I can do this? My shadows growl in my head.Let us help.I open my eyes and follow them, trusting them to keep me safe. We are going to be a team. I have to trust them.

When we reach the pale green double doors, my shadows absorb back under my skin, and they can feel my thanks. My hand pauses over the copper door handles. Each handle twists like vines. They loop around before connecting at the end of the handle. When I find the courage to open the doors, my eyes widen at what I see. My breath catches as I take in the sight before me. Here, I thought Constantine’s office was impressive.

I enter an entry space with old-style pale green furniture with dark wood accents. It looks like something you would find in a speakeasy. The tables beside them had lamps with stained glass shades, brass fixings, and chains. When I look beyond, an open area seems to glow from the ground. Wood handrails block off the glowing floor with shades of gold and white flowing up to the third floor. Beyond that, there are three floors of books and shelves. At the back of the room, a circular staircase leads you to various floors.

I should probably move and look around for my nighttime spot, yet my feet almost feel glued to the floor. My eyes can’t seem to believe what I am seeing. I feel in awe of this place before me. It’s breathtaking, and the glowing dust is soothing, reminding me of a lava lamp and a sand hourglass. How anyone made something so beautiful is beyond me. “Can I help you?” A voice says from behind me, which has me jumping. I didn’t hear anyone approach, and that is terrifying.

I spin, turning to see Monica standing there. Her black eyes assess me, studying me. I can’t help but wonder how long she has been standing there. “Um, I wanted to see the library. Wanted to read before bed.” I attempt the lie, and it comes out smoothly, even though it feels like something the old Salem might have done. The truth is, I am not sure that I see the appeal in books anymore. They were my escape at once, and now I don’t know if I will pick the hobby back up. Not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t understand its appeal anymore.

“You could have sent some to your new quarters.” She states as she moves further into the room. Her tone almost seems as if she is disappointed. I can’t help but wonder if maybe this is her place to retreat, and now I am ruining this place for her.

As I stand here, there isn’t anything I can tell you about what I have read in the past. No titles, authors, or anything of the sort has stayed in my memories. My eyes look over to where rows and shelves of books sit. The sight of them excites a part of me, so I lean into that as I smile back at her. “Why would I bother doing that when there is a place like this?” I motion to the room, and I swear she smiles at me. Maybe she will be okay with sharing this place with me. Perhaps we can come to a peaceful agreement during my stay here. Constantine acts like this place can be mine, too. However, unless I can coexist with the creatures that live here, I don’t see that as an option.

“It’s one of my favorite places. I am getting ready to gather dreams. Let me show you.” I walk with her to the floor, which seems to glow and float around the air. We walk over to the wood railing that spins around, looking classic yet with a slight bit of whimsy. “This is where we can enter as dreams. We connect to the outside world and weave our webs, creating the snares to enter their subconscious.” She looks at me once more before frowning. Her eyes narrowed on me, and she seemed to be able to see inside me again. “You’re hungry. Here.”

She extends her hand to me. Monica waves it over the golden floor with her other hand before pulling it to her. The dust responds to her and flows along her hand into me. My eyes automatically close as it flows into me. It feels almost as if I am getting a head rush. I practically feel as if I am glowing, as I wasn’t even aware I was hungry. My body relaxes to where I sway, feeling almost giddy.Is this what happiness feels like?No. This is what not feeling hungry feels like.My shadows practically growl at that last part.

My eyes open and widen, and I give her a genuine smile. “Thank you.”

Her eyes narrow slightly. “Come see me tomorrow. We will get you fed until you can do it yourself.” She points to the stairs in the corner that spiral up the three floors. “The top floor is fiction, the floor below that is nonfiction, the bottom here is nonfiction but studies of specific creatures, abilities, and autobiographies as well.” She shrugs. “Pretty sure some of those are exaggerations.”

I nod and wonder which floor I am less likely to find anyone else on. “Thank you.” When I go to turn, my stomach growls.

“Do you require food?” She tilts her head once more, studying me before shaking her head. “I am unsure exactly what type of fae you are.” Her eyebrows raise slightly. I swear her dark, voided eyes are seeing underneath my skin.

I feel slightly uncomfortable. In prison, we were powerless, having only the physical attributes of our kind. When healing or shifting, they fed us what our bodies needed—only enough so our bodies could regenerate enough not to die. They wanted us to be scarred and damaged. Those injuries told a story to the crowds. It showed them how long we have been around, that we can be killed, and how high the stakes were. They always fed us food daily; our bodies relied on the nutrients to thrive. “Yeah, I am part caster. Does Constantine not eat?” I shrug, not knowinghow to explain my situation, nor do I want to explain it. Why does it feel harder to talk about it rather than easier?

She throws her head back and releases a weird curse under an exasperated breath. “He is going to end up accidentally killing you. Constantine needs to take better care of you.” Her head tilts, and she smiles weirdly. “I don’t think he likes to eat alone, so he doesn’t. Gorges himself on emotions instead.”

“Do you know where I can get some food?” I don’t want to be a bother, but now that we are talking about food, it’s all I can think about.

“Which floor are you going to choose?” She looks up at the floors, and my gaze follows hers. I want to go to fiction to read something without any point, only for enjoyment. A warmth spreads in my chest as I think about it. I remember having a fondness for them. I cannot remember any stories or what about them I enjoyed. All of that is gone, yet I still can remember the feeling they left inside of me. Somehow, I remember that books felt like they were my friends, maybe my only friends. I sigh sadly because I should research species to get to know them. My body is, after all, at war within itself for space.

My beast hasn’t tried to awaken since we have been here. I can feel the space where it currently lives in my mind; in that place, it is sleeping, waiting for its opportunity to awaken. I won’t delude myself into thinking she won’t awaken. My shadows flex from within, sensing my thoughts. My shadows feel stronger than they did this morning. I now can link with it and understand how to spread it along my limbs. It can go short distances, and I encourage it.Find us a spot.

I watch themgo, and Monica must also because she smiles at me. The skin around her mouth cracks around the movement, slowly rebuilding itself. When her face isn’t cracking, it appears smooth as an eggshell, and she seems happy to wait for them. My shadows pull back inside of me, seeming to shift happily.The top floor is quiet if that is where we will sleep this evening. It has an oversized couch.My eyes meet Monica’s black voids. “Top floor on the couch.”

With a nod, “Good choice. I knew you were his daughter, but now I see it for myself. It’s reassuring. Food will meet you up there.” Her head motions to the stairs before nodding. “Excuse me, I need to go to work. Enjoy.”

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