Page 41 of Touched By Darkness

When I don’t find anything of relevance, I place the book back down and reach for the next.

I pause as my eyes land on the title of a hardcover on the top shelf.

Intrigued, I pull it out.

It’s so high up that I have to stand on my tiptoes to reach it.

Smoothing my hand over the carved leather exterior, I flip it open. The pages are filled with cursive, handwritten notes and smudged drawings, some more chaotic than others.

It describes life in Eden before the fall, and the more I read, the more I want to continue reading.

Then it goes on to outline the nature of evil and how it weaves into the fabric of Hell.

I turn another page, pleased to find an entire chapter dedicated to the mastery of fire magic.

This is what I need. Something to outline and explain the process. Fire magic is such a natural elemental power to these angels that I’m left feeling like a lost fish in the ocean. Especially now that I look like a fallen angel but feel like an impostor.

I’m sliding my backpack off my shoulder when the room turns dark, except for an emergency light up ahead that flickers like something straight out of a horror movie. It’s too faint to reach where I’m standing.

I quickly place the book in my bag, zip it back up, and then shoulder it again.

Maybe it’s later than I thought, and the teachers are heading home.

“Hello?” I call out, but instead of stepping out from the shadows, I slink back. Something feels off.

Even the air seems to have dropped in temperature.

The sound of heavy footsteps draws nearer, slow and calculating, boots clapping on the marble flooring. Whoever this person is, they’re not trying to hide their presence.

I carefully push the books apart to peer through a gap. The aisle is empty, and I wait with bated breath to catch a glimpse of the person.

I wait and wait.

The footsteps slow to a stop, and silence descends on the library once again. My heart beats so loudly, rushing in my ears, that I’m sure it can be heard over the screaming silence.

Just then, books get shoved to the floor behind me, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin. I press a hand over my mouth. How I don’t scream out loud is a miracle.

Suppressing a whimper, I breathe through my nose. Deep, steadying inhales to calm my racing, panicky heart.

I slowly turn and look through a gap in the books. At first, I see nothing except the dark, flickering aisle lined by geography books. But then a shadowy figure, a person dressed in a black robe with their hood pulled low over their face, comes into view. Large, black wings drag over the floor as he walks past, and I hold my breath, scared to make a noise.

I back away when I see the carved hunting knife in his hand, with its sharp blade that glints beneath the flashing emergency light.

As if he can hear me hiding behind the bookshelf, he pauses and cocks his head in my direction.

A beat passes when I can barely breathe, let alone think.

Then I sprint.

Instinct takes over, and I run for the exit, my feet pounding on the marble flooring and my heart thrashing inside my chest.

I can hear him take chase, knocking over books as he comes flying around the corner, but I don’t look back.

The door is in sight.

A few more steps.

I launch myself at the handle and tumble into the brightly lit hallway. The momentum causes me to lose balance and fall onto my hands and knees, but I’m too high on adrenaline to notice the pain as I spin around.

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