Page 62 of The Librarian of Souls
“I’m not a fucking idiot. She reeks of you, Sandman. You want her alive, she stays with me until…”
His voice trails off as my sands penetrate his pointed ears. His body jerks, muscles tensing and shaking as he tries to fight me, but the savoury burn of his emotions, his soul, seeps into me as my sands take from him. Fear spikes in the room and I see the blood on Joanna’s neck. My sands rush from me and the dead man’s arm tears from his body. Blood coats my mate as she collapses onto the floor. The dead Gnoll falls to the side as I race to Joanna’s side.
“Mon abeille.” I cup her cheek and pull her face to me. I need to know she is with me, that she is alive and well. “Mon abeille, speak to me please. Are you okay?”
“He’s fucking lost it, Augustine. He’s, he’s, he’s-”
A crack explodes. Joanna screams and it’s the last thing I hear before everything goes dark.
***
The library is dark, low candlelight guides me back into my domain.I take note of each shelf. All of my books are in place, and it looks like the maid has been keeping up with the growing collection well. Not a speck of dust to ruin the paper in sight. My shoulders relax. I should feel at ease when I sit down behind my desk. The tea on my desk wafts with steam and I can smell the smoky aroma of the Lapsang Souchong.
Something is not right here. I survey my office. The coat rack is in the correct spot, the correspondence from Deg’Doriel is on the side table. The candelabra burns just as I left it. My belongings are in place, just as they should be.
I look over at my reading chair. That is what is making me feel uneasy. There is something missing from that spot. I round my desk and look at the leather wingback. The embroidered cushion is in place. The book I was reading before I had to leave for something is still resting on the arm. I wrack my brain, staring down at the piece of furniture trying to figure out why this is not correct. There is something about the leather, it’s missing something. Did the maid clean my chair? A stain used to be on the seat, but how did I stain the seat?
“Augustine? Can you hear me?” someone shouts, their voice echoing around my domain. “Augustine.”
The longer I hear the voice, the more the chair before me seems to be missing something very important. My sands reach out and brush over the cushion. By the gods, by magic, by my own sheer will, a golden thread appears around my black sands. It grows and pulls at my sands and I see something, someone, forming in my chair.
I am struck with the scent of honey.
Mon abeille.
“Augustine, holy shit!” Joanna rushes me, her soft form wrapping around mine before I can raise my arm. Her terror rises with each breath she takes. “Holy shit, you’re alive.”
“Of course, I am alive,” I soothe her, pulling away to cup her cheeks. “How did you do that?”
This space has always been my sanctuary; it is my own resting point amongst the dream realm. It is simply me and the souls I have acquired through all of time. Now Joanna is here, and everything is as it should be. I cannot see a more perfect place for us. Here for eternity, where I can keep her safe and provide for her everything she may need.
“Fuck, you’re alive.” Tears leak from her eyes as she touches my face. Her fingers weave into my hair, ruining the styling and pulling me closer to her lips. “You need to wake up, please. Please, Augustine, wake up. I need you.”
***
Everything burns. My head is on fire and I can barely feel my extremities. I cannot open my eyes.
“You, you really did. This is your fault. You just couldn’t-”
“Lance, please-”
“Lance, Lance, Lance, do you know how your voice grates? My ears bleed every time you say my name. Jesus Christ.”
There is rustling to my right, I taste the mania in the air, the fear, and the panic that mixes into it as well. My eyes crack open just enough to see Joanna. She is taped to a cheap folding chair. She shakes as Lance paces just behind her. When he kicks a box that has fallen on the ground Joanna nearly jumps out of her skin. My sands pulse with life, tasting the terror in her. Her delicious fear morphing into something rotten and foul on my tongue.
“Please just let us go, I-I am going to quit. I won’t tell anyone, promise-”
“I don’t believe you. You didn’t get the message the first time. I even had to risk Patrick flying back.” He grabs her shoulders and I swear I am going to rip his hands from his body first. How dare he touch my queen.
“I don’t understand.”
“No, because you are too fucking stupid to get it. You should’ve left it all alone, but you couldn’t. First with the accounts, then when I thought I had found the jackpot you stole it.”
“No, I didn’t, they aren’t he-here-” A tear leaks down her cheek as she tries to think and I am forced to watch her panic and stutter as my sands, my body, refuse to operate at my will. I cannot protect her. I cannot save her.
Ihaveto save her.
“Then where are the pins? You were here on Saturday. Where did you fucking stash them.”
