Page 13 of In Between Darkness
His smile melts through me. I fight the rush to grin up at him playing hard to get.
“Well, are you gonna help me or not?” I mock, wondering if I can trust him with my request.
“Hit me. What book are you after?”
“Do you have any on the Moonkind?” I ask, blatantly averting my eyes from his stare. Hopefully, he does not read too much into it.
“The Moonkind, huh? What does a pretty face like you want with a book on the Moonkind?” he pries with intrigue plastered on his face.
“Just curious. I want to get ahead in history class,” I smile nonchalantly.
“You are just full of surprises, aren’t you, Asha Calloway?”
I hear a shuffle, and three books glide down from the seventieth row. “This is all we have here. The rest were burned years ago, orders from RHE. If you still can’t find what you are looking for, this school has an archive hidden underneath the castle. Maybe I’ll take you there if you ask nicely enough.” He bites his lip flirtatiously. “It can be our little secret.”
“Is that where you take all the other girls?” I remark in jest.
“Would you hate me if it were?” he says with boyish charm.
I ignore the question. “Thanks for helping me out.”
I take the books out of his grasp and place them into my bag.
“Any time, princess.” He smirks, and I make an effort to sway my hips as I walk away, knowing he is staring at my ass. I leave the library and head back to my room.
I unload the books from my bag and place them on my bed, glancing over at Moon Castle from my window as if looking at it will give me some much-needed answers. But it doesn’t. I turn to the book at the top of my pile -The Way of the Moon- and skim through its pages trying to find something that would explain my dream. I land on the page titledThe Wonders of the Dream Veil. My eyes scan the paper, but all I can find is information on the Gift of Mourna.
‘Those who possess the Gift of Mourna can travel between two planes. This is called Veil Shifting. If a person has this Gift, they will be able to communicate with people on both sides of the veil through dreamlike states.’
Could this be the answer I am looking for? Is someone using their Gifts to mess with me? I go to read more, but find myself disappointed. The pages are clearly missing. My fingers run over jagged edges, the only evidence of the pages that used to be there. I grab another book, and it is the same. River wasn’t kidding about the RHE. They must have had something to do with this. I may have to check out the archives after all.
The last book in the pile, titledMoon Sovereign,seems to have all its pages intact. My fingers pluck through the pages, and motes of dust rise off them, making me cough a little. It looks like an old yearbook. There is a date located at the top of each page. These are the students who roamed the halls of Moon Sovereign over twenty years ago. I look through the array of different photos spread throughout the pages. Some look around my age, and some look a little older. Under each photograph in silver engraving is the name of each student and their Gift.
‘Arin Foresithe. Gift of Xoro’
‘Blade Cameron. Gift of Silo’
My eyes scan down each photograph, mesmerised by the treasure trove of data oozing out of each page. My gaze lands on something that looks vaguely familiar. Are my eyes deceiving me?
I rub them and look a little closer to make sure I am not seeing things. A man with broad shoulders sits on the staircase of what must be Moon Castle. He looks tough and is covered in tattoos:‘Luca Thorncroft. Gift of Mourna’
His hand grips the handle of a red suitcase. That looks just like my mother’s.
Wait.
I look closer; the pink love heart key chain hangs like a beacon on the zip of the bag.
It is hers.
Chapter Six
I can’t think straight. I grab the suitcase from under the bed and place it next to the yearbook photo. I examine the two closely, holding my breath. Surely, they can’t be the same. My hand cradles the love heart key chain. I stare at it hard. My fingers run over its smooth edges and travel lightly over the little ridged dips and chips from the wear and tear over the years. I stare at the photo. The key chain looks the same. I peer closer; there’s something I didn’t notice before. It appears that there is something white protruding from the heart in the photograph. The corner of something? Maybe a piece of paper. My eyes revert to the key chain situated on my palm. I look at where the front and back sides of the love heart join. There is a little ridge that runs down its outside edges. I don’t know how I didn’t notice this before. It’s a locket. I place both of my thumbs along the ridge and begin to pry it open; it budges a little. I tense harder, separating the love heart down its middle and opening the literal can of worms. I hear something drop onto the bed. It’s a piece of paper folded up neatly. It must’ve been hiding in there for over twenty years. I stare at it, my muscles tense, not knowing if I want to see what lies inside it. But the thought of not knowing is much worse. I grit my teeth and place the paper gently on my left hand as if too much force would make the contents disappear from my grasp forever. I open each fold with care.
There is an image in front of me that makes me queasy. A wave of fear washes over me, and I drop the piece of paper frommy grasp as if it were dirty. My mouth plummets, unable to mask my emotions. It’s her. My mother. But she is not alone.
I rise from my bed and pace the length of the dorm room, the rattan rug reassuring the soles of my feet every few moments. I take a minute to build up the strength I need to investigate further. Sheepishly, I return to the bed and examine the photo. As if looking with fresh eyes will change what I have just seen.
My mother. Her unmistakable auburn curls caress her rosy cheeks, and she is planting a kiss on the cheek of another. But that man is not my father. He has dark brown eyes, but his features are light. Blonde hair swoops down the ridges of his brow, and his dark eyebrows stand guard over his face. A sharp jawline harshens his softness. He has broad shoulders and looks tough. He is wearing a black sweater vest, and tattoos snake out from its edges, covering the majority of his chest and arms. It’s the man from the yearbook photo.
