Page 111 of Crimson Promises
The thought should have brought me relief. There had been enough supernatural revelations thrown at me since the car accident. Instead, I felt this quiver rippling within my stomach.
It—the book—seemed to be protecting itself somehow, cloaking its presence. Then why did it reveal itself to me before?
I knew I should probably leave it alone, but Jean was gone, and I didn’t know when I’d have another chance to investigate the text without anyone else around. I peeled the soft gloves from my hands, going against one of the rules Jean had drilled into me from that first day at Canmore. Touching the books without a barrier was forbidden. I could recite her lecture from memory: “The body naturally produces oils and various waste substances that may lead to permanent harm. Fingerprints, for instance, can corrode certain materials. To protect the objects gloves should be worn when handling all items from any books belonging to the rare collections that come through Canmore.”
In this instance, breaking her biblical rules outweighed the risk. I caressed the grooves and dips of the gold edging. The swirls of patterns outlined the front and connected over the spine to the back cover. I followed one of the deeper grooves that swept the bottom right corner of the book and climbed to the top of the thick spine.
“Ah,” I bit out. I snatched my hand back from the book. I looked at my right hand, where I felt the sharp sting. A bead of blood bloomed on the pad of my ring finger. I crouched down so I was level with the spine of the book. There wasn’t any stray paper that would have given me a cut. My finger wasn’t sliced thin and clean across like a paper cut—it looked like it had been pricked like Sleeping Beauty’s spindle.
In one of the grooves of the edging, there was a tiny piece of gold fragment.Weird.But after so many years, I guessed it made sense that the edges would begin to fray. That thing needed to be filed down. Probably wouldn’t have happened if I had kept my gloves.
Right in the groove, it looked like a droplet of my blood was stuck. Shit, Jean was going to have a fit if I damaged the centerpiece of the entire collection.
I turned to grab the gloves I had discarded off to the side, and when I rotated, the book had transformed. It looked alive.
Where the solid gold leafing had been a moment ago was now transformed into a river of molten gold lava. It flowed clockwise and continued to circle the book. The pull was back, like a hummingbird drawn to pollen. I couldn’t resist drifting towards it. When my bare hands touched the book again, it was as if my hands became melded to it.
It whispered into my mind:Dimidium,video te. Mox iunge nos. Virtus ad potentiam vocat.Dimidium, I see you. Soon you will join us. Power calls to power.
Flashes of fire, a branding iron, shadows, hematite towers, and crimson eyes cycled in a motley of a never-ending loop.
My hands began to burn where it was attached to the book. Each time I tried to pull my hands away, the burning intensified. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I couldn’t handle much more of this. This book was going to devour me, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. A somewhat acrid, charred, smoky smell filled the air. It smelled like ash.
Dots began to form in front of my vision as my knees buckled against the carpeted floor. I couldn’t keep my balance on my knees. The book was heavy, and like an anchor at sea, it dragged me down until my head cracked against the edge of the table. Pain radiated across my forehead. The last conscious thought I had was to close my eyes against the flash of golden light as if lightning had struck the room.
A burst of humidity startled me. I was lying across the carpeted floor. It took a minute for everything to come rushing back in. I brought my hands in front of my face, expecting to see raw, charred hands attached to that book, but they looked untouched, albeit a bit clammy. I flexed my hands. What happened?
I clambered back onto the rolling chair. How long was I lying there for? The book was back to its original position at the center of the table. Immediately, I put my gloves back on and hesitantly peered at the spine. There was no smudge of my blood. Like what happened after the car accident, there was no evidence to support what I experienced. Ben didn’t magically pop in here to save me. But if it hadn't been him, who had?
The book had talked to me in a different language. Itspoke. And had promised that it would see me soon. Its parting line had my eyes darting around the room. The racing heartbeat that followed me into bed each night in anticipation of meeting the red eyes now seemed to have found me in the light of day. Was it all in my head? No, it couldn’t have been.Books don’t just...speak. Or do they?I took a deep breath, attempting to shake off the paralyzing fear.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jean striding back toward the room. The questions, shock, and anger at feeling violated got pushed to the concrete box of denial that I had made regular use of as of late. I focused on my screen and moved on to the next book.
Jean breezed into the room. “Sorry that took so long. Ran into an old colleague of mine, and I couldn’t quite remove myself without seeming obscenely rude. Did I miss anything?”
I looked over my shoulder, putting on the best version of my mask I could muster, and said, “Nothing. You didn’t miss anything at all.”
* * *
I managed to completely clear the books on my side on the table. Jean only had about five left. My gaze drifted to the center of the table, each time I looked at it, a cold sweat seemed to break across my skin.
“Jean, I’m sorry to have to do this to you, but suddenly I’m not feeling well. Might have been that sushi I had for lunch.” I did not have sushi for lunch.
“Of course, darling. Go get some rest. Your pallor is looking a tad paler than usual.” She glanced to my side of the room. “You finished all of your work regardless of you feeling ill. I cannot express my heartfelt gratitude enough for saving my arse and agreeing to come in today.”
I nodded in acquiescence. Trying to get complete sentences wasn’t a feat I could manage. “Of course. See you.”
Jean waved goodbye as she returned to finish her work.
The pressure that was turning my entire body inside out lessened fractionally the further I got from the book. I made it down the elevator and planned on exiting through the back entrance, but yellow caution tape thwarted my escape. A white paper was attached to the tape: “This exit is temporarily unavailable due to routine maintenance. Please use Canmore’s main entrance instead. We apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused.”
I clutched the door frame as my finger brushed the curled edge of the tape. Why didn’t I listen to Ben? Being curled up in front of the television with restless energy sounds infinitely better than whatever this was. I pushed myself off the wall. Each step felt heavy as if my body was wading through viscous mud.
Slowly, I went through Canmore’s central atrium, ignoring Chelsea’s dig that I wasn’t looking too great. I didn’t have the energy to deal with her bullshit today. I flipped her my middle finger in response, not bothering to make eye contact.
The brisk air was refreshing. My chest still felt heavy but less constricted, and my breaths became deeper. Easier. My nostrils flared to consume as much fresh air as possible. I needed to get to Ben’s as soon as possible. He’d know what to do.
I made it a few blocks when I heard someone calling my name. Inwardly cursing, I turned around and saw Riley. He jogged over to me with a broad smile.
