Page 62 of A Lost Light

No one disagreed.

Chapter 36

Andy

Well, that was fun.

I left the others discussing angelic politics and made my way to the main library at the back of the house in search of some peace and quiet. Once upon a time, this had been my father's study, a place where children weren't allowed unless we were there to be talked down to or punished for some awful crime—such as behaving like a child.

I didn't have a lot of memories of my childhood with my family, most of them blurred out by time and trauma. But I distinctly recalled being made to stand here in front of my father's big, antique desk while he stared at me with cold gray eyes and told me that I had to act in a manner befitting the next great Lovell witch, not like some uncouth peasant street urchin.

He hated it when I acted like a child. Which, was pretty much always, because, you know, I was achild.

This was one of the rooms I had initially avoided whenever I came to the old family shack to find things to pawn. But eventually, I took great glee in dismantling his stupid hideout, in selling his shiny knickknacks and the Lovell family heirlooms heso proudly displayed here. Nothing dangerous, of course—they kept those items more securely hidden. No, I had sold off the little things, with no real magical value. Personal treasures that had given him smug old-family bragging rights. Because fuck him. And fuck everyone who had thought he was a great man, some all-powerful, awe-inspiring old-money god they should suck up to, or aspire to become.

I looked around the room with my own sense of smugness now. Since I started living at the family home, I had slowly reclaimed the rooms I used most—like the kitchen and the workrooms—gleefully making them my own, decking them out with things that would make my uptight parents roll their eyes. I was determined to infuse the place with my own energy in a very purposeful attempt to wipe away the last traces of the people who had come before me.

Now, despite the faint lingering memories of this place, the library had become a peaceful place for me. A bumpy hand-woven rag rug covered the gleaming hardwood. Paintings of birds and forest scenes replaced the musty old portraits of evil ancestors. And the bookshelves were lined with valuable and entertaining tomes of the non-dark variety, framed by pots that trailed vines of ivy and pothos.

And on the big, gleaming antique desk my father had loved to loom behind, was a fancy pink nameplate declaring “No Assholes Allowed.” I made mental note to add one of those small, brightly-colored rubber penis party favors they sold for bridal showers to the desk, if I ever got a chance to visit the Planus realm again.

I trailed my fingers over the leaves of a trailing ivy vine as I tried to release the tension that had my shoulders aching and my gut in knots. I felt… trapped. Like a wild animal in a cage. It seemed like a fucking ridiculous feeling to have right now. I should be mad. Angry with the arrogant-assed angels. Pissed offat my sister, my family, society, at myalwaysbeing in the wrong place at the wrong time… all of it.

And yet. Here I was, feeling like an animal pacing the confines of her tidy enclosure. Numbness, laced with a side of pent-up energy. With a snort, I pulled a book off a shelf and threw it at the shelves on the opposite wall. It sent a ceramic cat wearing a witch's careening off the shelf to hit the rug with a thump. The cat's comically wide crossed eyes started at me accusingly from across the room. So, I threw another book at it. And another. And another…

A sound that was somewhere between a scream and a growl tore from my throat as I threw books, their pages fluttering, spines breaking. Hundreds of years of Lovell literature—and some of my own collection as well—hit the opposite wall, the shelves, the ceramic cat, and the pretty old fainting couch, with a satisfying series of thumps and bangs. Each thud echoed the fury in my soul.

The last book in the row flew from my hands and knocked a painting of a rowan tree askew, and I just stood there, panting.

I started, nearly jumping out of my skin, when a soft hand touched my arm. It was like I had left my body for a moment there, and the touch called me back.

I met Hasumi's vivid turquoise eyes, suddenly embarrassed at the outburst I only now realized had just happened. “Oops?” I muttered, my face burning.

One corner of Hasumi's beautiful mouth lifted in a faint, wry smile. “Welcome back.”

I sucked in a deep breath, registered Niamh standing in the doorway behind Hasumi, and wished the earth would swallow me up. The only thing worse than completely losing your damned mind, was having witnesses.

Dyre joined Niamh, arching one blood red brow at me as he took in the mess around me. “Did the books suddenly becomesentient and try to attack you, Lovell? That's the only reason I can think of for murdering perfectly innocent literature. You monster.”

I turned away and ran my hands over my face. “You couldn't have used your magic to calm my tits like five minutes sooner?” I groaned at Hasumi.

Footsteps approached, and I heard the door click closed.

“Sometimes, quelling an emotion is much more harmful than letting it be felt,” the irritatingly calm water weaver informed me in their ethereal, alluring voice. “Your anger needed to run its course.”

I huffed. “Right.”

Turning, my hopes were crushed when I saw that Niamh and Dyre hadn't left the room and shut the door behind them. No. Of course not. Because that would help me save face. Instead, they had shut themselves in here with me. Dyre leaned against the closed door with his arms crossed over his chest, studying me, while Niamh perched her butt on the desk, her green eyes watching me like she was on the hunt.

“What?” I demanded. “What do you want? Can't a girl have a mental fucking breakdown in peace around here?”

Hasumi shrugged, the movement a graceful ripple through their willowy form.Nowthey were putting out feel good vibes, their magic gently soothing the edges of my frayed nerves. “Everyone wanted to check on you. To see how you were doing after our visit with the angels.” Turquoise eyes met mine, full of understanding. “I told them you didn't need to be… mobbed.”

I snorted. “And yet, you brought friends.” I flopped onto the fainting couch, feeling like a complete moron. So…that had happened. Smiling brightly, I gestured from Niamh and Dyre to the rows of books that were still undisturbed. “There's plenty more stuff to throw, if you want a turn. Good times.”

Niamh shook her head at me. “Andy. Stop deflecting. It's beneath a warrior like you.”

I stuck my tongue out at her. We couldn't all have the poise and giant stick up our asses that a haughty fae hunter possessed.

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