Page 89 of Ink Blood Sister Scribe

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For a moment after Collins spoke, no one else did. But to Nicholas it did not feel like silence. There was a roaring in his ears as the blood rushed to his head and his mind brayed a denial despite Collins’s own confession. Collins stepped back until he hit the dining room wall, and looked from Joanna to Nicholas, his expression bleak. Nicholas knew his shock and hurt had to be written plainly on his face, but he couldn’t control his expression even to salvage his broken pride.

“Collins,” Joanna said. Her voice was uneven, and she put both hands on the dining room table as if she couldn’t keep her balance. Nicholas was glad he was already sitting down. “It is five o’clock. We need to set the wards in two hours or the house won’t be protected anymore, it won’t be hidden, anyone could find us if they know where to look.”

She was giving him the benefit of the doubt, which Nicholas thought was ludicrous. Collins obviously knew exactly what hiding the wards would do. Esther stepped around the side of the table, fists balled at her sides like she was preparing to fight him, and Collins crossed his arms over his chest—not in his usual tough-guy way, but like he was protecting himself, like he was scared.

“Where did you put them?” Joanna said, and when Collins didn’t answer, she turned to Nicholas and Esther and said, “We have to search the house.”

“They’re not in the house,” Collins said. “Joanna. I’m so sorry. But you’re not gonna find them.”

Joanna slammed her hand down on the table, the gesture so unexpected that Nicholas jumped. It was the loudest sound he’d heard Joanna make since they arrived. “Tell me where they are.”

“I need you to read me the spell,” Collins said.

“Not until you give me back my wards.”

Already Nicholas was rewriting his understanding of the past few days, polishing the lens on every interaction he’d had with Collins and recasting it all in a sick, sallow film of shame. He thought with lurching disgust of the version of himself he’d been only minutes before: a pitiable person who’d believed he and Collins might actually be becoming friends.

“Maram told me to do it,” Collins said, his eyes darting up and down between Joanna and Nicholas. “She told me the place we were headed had wards and I had to get them down as soon as possible. She said to tell you when I’d done it.”

Maram, too, then, had been pretending. She’d never really given a shit about Nicholas; he was merely a pawn in the Library’s inexplicable game, like he’d always been a pawn. He couldn’t look at Collins. He gripped the wooden arms of his chair and stared at the table instead, at Esther’s first book. Only moments ago he’d been thrilled at her success and thrilled at the prospect of breaking Collins’s NDA, of finally learning his name. He was so, so stupid.

“Why?” Esther demanded. “Why would she tell you to do that?”

“I don’t know!”

“You didn’t think toask?”

“Obviously I asked!” Collins and Esther were bellowing at one another now. “She couldn’t tell me, because she’s probably under the same—” he broke off, hacking into his arm, unable even to name the spell that kept him silent.

“Oh, convenient,” Esther said. “You can’t explain yourself because you’ll choke to death if you try. Perfect.”

“Wait,” said Joanna. “That cough.” She looked suddenly more intent than furious, peering at Collins’s face, which was flushed from lack of oxygen. “Collins, is that what happens when you try to talk about something you’ve been spelled not to?”

Collins didn’t answer, because the NDA prohibited answering questionsabout itself, but Esther said, “If he’s even really under a spell in the first place.”

“Hold on,” Joanna said, stepping backward so quickly she hit the dining room wall. A watercolor painting of a mountain trembled in its frame. “Hold on.”

Collins had recovered his breath. He said, “Maram gave me a message. She said we have to find the thing Richard will use to find us.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Esther demanded.

“I don’t know,” Collins said, and took a step toward Nicholas, who drew back in his chair on instinct. Collins stopped moving. “Say something,” he said, “please.”

“Hold on,” Joanna repeated, but she seemed to be talking to herself and Nicholas’s head was spinning too fast to worry about her right now. His focus was all on Collins, on Maram, on the stolen wards and the unbroken NDA, but none of it made sense.

“Even if he’s telling the truth,” Esther said, “and he thinks he’s somehow, I don’t know,helpingby hiding the wards—”

“Hedoesn’t think he’s helping,” Collins said, “he knows!”

“—even if,” Esther repeated, louder, “he thinks he’s helping, why the hell does he trust Maram, and why the hell should we?”

“Read me that book, Joanna,” Collins said, and reached out like he might touch her, then curled his hand shut as she, like Nicholas, shied away from him. “Please. I’m begging you.”

Nicholas saw that Joanna had taken the newly written book in her arms, was holding it protectively away from Collins, backing up from the dining room table and toward the door leading to the kitchen. “Your cough,” Joanna said to Collins, “I’ve heard it before, the same exact one.”

“What?” Esther said. “Where?”

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