Page 24 of The Librarian of Souls
“Where’s my stuff?” I demand, my words harsher and more bitten off than necessary.
“Your clothes are ruined. Hawthorn cut them off.”
“I had Arlo take your purse to my house for safekeeping after he found it,” Augustine explains softly.
“Mother-” I smear a hand over my face and cringe at the stickiness.Take a deep breath, Joanna. You are late already, so rushing now won’t do you any good.I swallow the welling anxiety in my throat. I can’t handle going from one extreme to another like this. “I am late for work.”
Augustine and Deg’Doriel stare at me like I have just announced myself as the new queen of Scotland.
“Joanna, who cares?” Augustine looks genuinely confused, because obviously he is. Why would an ageless, nightmare man care what other people think of their work? “You were attacked, or have you forgotten? And we have to complete the bond.”
He leads me to sit down on the chair, just like last night. I bit my lip at the creak of leather, the squeezing feeling around my hips. I don’t want to sit down or talk about the bond. It is a clear source of tension between the two monsters left in the room and I’d rather not be around for their argument. Everything is upside down and twisted and I need to straighten it out and make a to-do list so I can see all the problems being shoved into my face all at once.
Then I can think about this bond or die situation.
“Who hasn’t been mugged?” I ask.
“Joanna,” Augustine growls.
“And I can’t miss work. Ya know,” a breathy laugh breaks my speech, “if this bond thing is serious, what better way to get to know me. I am bailing a second time because of work. I do that.”
“I-”
“This is why you have to speak with the humans before you get your dream dick wet. She is clearly broken.” Deg’Doriel cuts in, bending around Augustine’s desk, a tail snapping against the wood, and tosses a plastic bag at me. My cheeks burn with embarrassment. He doesn’t have to be so right this early in the morning. “This is what I had. My flesh suit is a bit bigger than yours.”
“Than- your what?”
Before Augustine can protest, his friend bursts into purple flames and reveals a shorter, portly priest. A wretched burning smell permeates the room and I am gagging again. The man at Augustine’s desk smirks at me, a dimple appearing on his round cheek.
“The books, Deg’Doriel,” he groans, leaving my side to open a high-up vent on the back wall.
I take my opening and shoot up, rushing out of the door of the office. I clutch the blanket and trash bag to my chest. The library is quiet except for the sound of feet slapping against the hardwood with each step I take. An emptiness settles in me at the thought of how my world has changed, how things I thought were true aren’t, fiction and nonfiction blurring together as I dash around the stacks towards the toilets. I don’t know what is real any more.
That’s a lie.
Work is real, and it will be a big problem if I don’t get my ass across the road. All the lads at the office and site must be calling my phone, trying to figure out what the fuck is going on. Patrick is going to flip his lid when he finds out the site was broken into. The mountain of work I will have to do to get everything sorted is giving me a headache already. Those few precious hours of recovery I have enjoyed will have to tide me over until this is all sorted.
Shoving against the heavy fire door until it is shut, I lock the bathroom the moment I can. My eyes close as I listen to the delicate sound of shoes pacing in front of the door. I pull away and for the first time in a while, I look at myself. Covered in itchy, drying blood and something slimy, my body is still mine. Brown hair, brown eyes, double chin. It is all the same old Joanna Cole. My breasts are still comically small compared to the rest of me. The stretch marks that decorate my stomach and sides are still purple, but they are matched with mottled, discoloured skin.
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes when I meet my gaze.
I was assaulted. In my place of work, no less. Nothing about it was by chance, I know that, but I can’t believe anyone would do that to another person. I can feel the spit landing on my cheek and boots crashing into me. The words echo around my skull as I stare at my reflection.‘He will remind you again and again until you learn your lesson.’I don’t know who my attacker was referring to. I can’t think of anyone I could have upset so much for them to do that to me.
In a panic, my fingers swipe through the symbol on my stomach, smearing the meaning into nothingness. I yank a paper towel from the dispenser and wet it under the sink. This stuff has to come off me. The cheap paper rips and tears with each swipe, but I scrub at my body until I can see my pale skin. The discoloured flesh of my torso reveals splotchy, yellowing bruises that wrap around my body. Tears lead tracks down my dirty cheeks as I keep bathing myself. I dunk my head under the sink. The angle hurts my neck, but I need to be clean now. The overwhelming urge to peel my skin from my body, goading me into making it work, is driving all logic from my body.
The water is cold, but I stay bent over until the water runs clear. When I stand back up, Augustine stares back at me. I shriek, wincing as my hip rams into the counter and trying to cover myself at the same time. He looks annoyed.
“Joanna.” Definitely pissed.
“How did you get in here?” I demand, turning off the water and grabbing more paper towels.
He raises his hand, and a tendril of sand leaks from the tip of one of his fingers. It floats for a moment before taking shape and solidifying. Well goddamn.
“What on earth are you doing?” he asks.
“Getting ready for work.”
“Absolutely not.”
