Page 12 of Unbroken
“Why did she take the Book from its hiding place?”
“I can’t imagine.” Mother had known about the Books and their power—why in hell would she have risked letting one loose from its cage?
“Did she say anything? Did she look…afraid?”
The final word was spoken in a smaller voice. Sebastian turned to face his sister, saw the desperation in her eyes. The desire to both know and not know, at the same time.
“No,” he said, and surprise flickered over Bonnie’s face. “She looked angry. And…betrayed, maybe? She wasn’t about to let the Book go. The woman threatened her, so she grabbed the kerosene lantern and threw it. The vision ended, but…well. We know what happened next.”
Their mother died in the ensuing blaze, but her attacker escaped. Without the Book, at least.
“And you know who this mystery woman was?” Bonnie prompted.
“The Chancellor of the School of Night. I don’t know her real name. The Provost—I don’t know what his name was, either—all but said as much. Somehow, the School found out the Book of Flesh was in the house, and the Chancellor came to take it.” He spread his hands. “And that’s all I know. I’m sorry.”
“Right.” Bonnie folded her arms over her chest. “And you’re going to kill her?”
Sebastian sighed. “I doubt she’ll give us any other option.”
CHAPTER 7
The next morning, rather than ride to work with Irene and the others, Sebastian made his way to the Widdershins Public Library.
His heart was heavy and his eyes ached with weariness as he climbed the steps, passing by the squid-like statues guarding the entrance. He’d spent the night tossing and turning, falling asleep and then waking from dreams he couldn’t remember.
Bonnie looked as though she hadn’t slept well either. Curse Jeremy for so callously throwing away his wife and children. At the time, Sebastian had regretted hurting him, but now he was beginning to think Jeremy had deserved everything he got and more.
His heart twinged from a different pain as he entered the library to see an unfamiliar face sitting behind the desk. The librarian who’d held the post had been killed by the maniac who found the Book of Bone. Yet another tragedy to blame on the accursed Books.
The reading room with the newspapers was clearly marked. It didn’t take Sebastian long to find an article about the death of Penelope’s friend.
AUTOIST KILLED BY TRAIN
Widdershins, MA - Mr. David Siewert of Siewert Leather Company was en route to a meeting in Salem, MA, when his automobile was struck by a Whyborne Railroad train on an unprotected crossing. Mr. Siewert is believed to have died instantly upon impact. According to the train’s engineer, Mr. L.P. Marsh, the automobile had come to a stop on the tracks and failed to move at the sound of the whistle. Mr. Marsh set the brakes as soon as he spotted the vehicle, but the distance was too short in which to stop the train. Mechanical trouble, with the addition of heavy fog, is blamed for the accident.
The death notice gave little more information:
SIEWERT, David J., beloved husband of Julia Siewert (née Lambert). June 23. Funeral services at his late residence on High St. Relatives and friends are kindly asked to attend.
Sebastian sat back, absently rubbing the scars on his left forearm. Had Siewert’s auto broken down at exactly the wrong moment…or had he been forced to park there and wait for his doom, as Penelope Tubbs had been compelled to set herself alight?
There was no way to know, given the destruction no doubt wrought on the auto during the collision. Mechanical failure couldn’t be ruled out. His death might have nothing to do with the Book of Blood.
Or it might.
Damn it—if only there was some way to tell for certain. Given that Sebastian’s scars had reacted to the traces of magic still on Penelope, would they do the same near Siewert’s body, if they could find his grave? Or was he being foolish, wanting confirmation of what he knew in his gut to be true?
Someone had hated Penelope enough to want her to suffer, first the loss of control over her own body, then the horrific fire. The same person might have hated Siewert just as much.
It was almost certainly someone who moved in the same social circles. Someone who knew both well enough to despise them.
If they couldn’t get the list of people attending the memorial dinner from Tubbs, Siewert’s widow might be able to give them the same information. It was certainly worth talking to her, at least.
He flipped through the next day’s paper, just in case there was some more pertinent information, until he saw a headline that stopped him cold.
GRAVE VANDALIZED
Resting place of Mr. David Siewert disturbed by miscreants
