The building that houses the Archives is intimidating. It dwarfs every other building in the entire Market, and there’s a promise of arcane knowledge radiating from its very stones. That it is not made of wood or haphazard in its construction also sets it apart from the other shops that crowd this underground space. There’s also the fact that the Head Archivist is a dragon. Riley told me about Vasilisa, and while I am unsure if my task tonight will have our paths cross, I am both curious and wary of such an outcome.

Stepping through the double doors brings me to the vestibule, columns lined with gold filigree carvings and beautiful paintings covering the ceiling. These works of arts continue in the Archives main hall, grand as a gargantuan church but lined with bookshelves instead of pews. I feel small here, insignificant against the obvious amount of power buzzing in this place. I do not envy the guards, not only for the temptation this place must present to the truly ambitious, but for the constant pressure of being around this tangible force. I grip my satchel a little more tightly, as I would not be surprised if the relic reacted unfavorably somehow – perhaps springing to its freedom and seeking another dark artifact stowed away within the cathedral.

Everything within the bag is still, and while relief comes with this knowledge there is also the woeful realization that I do not know where to even start.

“Can I help you?”

There’s another Fae, a woman, but for a split second I do not see her as a woman. I see her as the blood thrumming in her veins, the hunger stirring in me like a rumbling beast that demands more. Curse Muir for his actions, I always feared what may change in me if I had fresh blood…is this what I must deal with forever more? To hunger and lust for the life force of every creature I came across? Or is it just for what she is that I feel myself slipping until forceful restraint submerges the beast, locks it away in a dark place where no one else can see it. I clear my throat, and smile softly to assure her that the growing concern in her face is unwarranted. “I wonder if you could help me find a book,” I say, reaching into my bag, I take the worn copy of Magicks & Alchemy I retrieved from Billy’s storage unit, and show it to her. “As you can see, my copy is quite damaged. I hope there may be another in the Archives I can look at.”

“You do realize that book was banned four centuries ago?” the Fae asks, incredulous at my request.

“I…did not know that. No.” What would she say to the other item in my satchel?

“Fortunately for you, it looks rubbish. You can’t really read it can you?” she asks.

I open the book to show her the illegible pages and she looks relieved at the sight. “I can show you where we keep what’s meant to be the only copy, but you’ll only be able to look at it under guard.”

“That’s fine,” I reply.

“Follow me.”

Her heels click on the stone floor as she makes her way towards the back end of the cathedral-like hall. We do not remain in the main chamber, rather she takes me through a back door located by a spiral staircase that leads to both an upper level and lower. The door opens to a dim corridor of stone, the roof bent in a gentle arc over our heads. The corridor is short, and ends at yet another door, this one solidly locked. The Fae takes a set of keys from around her neck and slips one into the lock, turning it and opening the door for me. Inside looks like another library, heavy books causing shelves to sag in the middle while dust makes a gray layer on many of the spines.

“Temlin!” the Fae exclaims.

From deeper within this library come heavy footsteps. Another of the towering figures, like Balen, appears. Same grayish skin and bulging yellow eyes, same mismatched limbs.

“First time seeing a Fomorian?” the Fae asks.

“Yes,” I lie, deciding it would be safer not to mention my vaguely remembered trip to the black market.

“Don’t try anything stupid and he’ll stay harmless,” the Fae adds. “Tem, hey, this vampire is going to take a look at Magicks & Alchemy. He’s somehow procured another copy, which I am hoping he’ll leave here after he sates his curiosity.”

“You didn’t mention that before,” I point out.

“No, I didn’t. But I’m mentioning it now. You may not be able to read it, but a powerful mage could restore it. Why do you think I’m even letting you look? You’re a vampire, vampires can’t do magic, but if someone gets ahold of that copy…”

If I can see the page pertaining to the relic clearly, I should be fine to leave my copy behind. It’s all but useless anyway, and it would show my good faith to the Archivists. “Very well,” I agree.

“Thank you. I’ll leave you to it.” She leaves the way we came in, and I hear the door lock behind her.

“This way,” Temlin grunts and shuffles off towards the middle section of bookcases. His large eyes dart along the shelves until he pauses and reaches for a thick tome above his head. I see that it’s the same book, in far better condition. He hands this to me and gestures to a nearby reading table, lit by a soft amber-hued torch.

“Thank you, I won’t be long,” I promise.

He doesn’t hover, which I appreciate, but he remains in full view, likely to ensure I’m not going to try copying information down to take with me. I set my copy on the table, preparing to leave it behind, and frown at the cover of the Archives’ version. It looks like theirs, like my parents’. How often did they open this book and recite the poison within? How many lives were sacrificed in their pursuit of power? In their idolatry to a godlike being only they knew about? It’s madness, but madness never stopped the sting of a belt or the pain of a heavy hand across the face.

Or the cold dark.

I shiver and force myself back to the present. I’m not there anymore. I’m here.

I’m here.

I open the book and flip towards the part that contains the picture of the strange relic. I’ll find out what the rest of the text says about it, and it will help me move forward. I must pay close attention to every detail, as it seems this will be my only chance to look at it. I’m still flipping through the pages when I hear the odd gurgling sound followed by a loud crash. I get to my feet immediately, turning towards the Fomorion, Temlin, who is seizing on the floor. I rush over to him. “How do I help you?!” He slaps at his throat and I force him to sit up, shifting behind him in the hopes I can save him from whatever he’s choking on.

It’s difficult to get my arms around his barrelchest, but I manage and begin the Heimlich Maneuver. He grunts and coughs but I cannot dislodge the burden. “Hold on, hold on!”

But he’s going still, until he is rigid in my arms. “Temlin?” I cautiously move around him so I can see his face. The skin is flushed an intense purplish red, eyes all but popped from their sockets and his mouth hanging open, drool trickling down his chin. “I don’t…understand…”

Then I see what looks like an oversized spider leg emerge from the recesses of Temlin’s throat. I scramble backwards, surprise making me lose my footing so that I scoot towards the reading table on my rear. The spider crawls out of Temlin’s mouth, but it’s not actually a spider. It is smoke or a shadow that’s taken the shape of a spider. There are odd spikes of inky black that shoot upwards from the main body, and jerky movements to the thing, like some sort of glitch. It’s growing in size, until it stands at roughly my height. I can't help but to think of Elena's Conduit, and its shifting, malleable form.

“Good job, you creepy cunt,” a familiar voice rings out from the doorway that’s supposed to be locked.

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I freeze in place, the strange, crackling form of darkness no longer my biggest concern. It’s him, he’s here. Not my father, but not much better. My uncle, James, never seemed as fanatic as my parents, but he did their bidding and he never held his punches when it came to me. James is a brutal man, cruel like my father and even louder about the comfort he has with violence. I hate that I look like him, that I see him so clearly when I see my own features. His hair is darker, he’s taller and broader, but there’s no mistaking that we are of the same blood. He swaggers into view and his dark eyes land on me, making me agonize over the emptiness of this room. Logically, I know that his risking a confrontation in this area would not be wise on his part, but I also know that James is a man of action rather than tact. I think my only mercy is that my presence is just as surprising to him as his is to mine, because he only stares at me for a moment while the strange shadow, and its seeming twin that arrived with James, look at my uncle for direction.

“You little shit,” he recovers first, a savage grin on his face. “You realize the fucking headache you’ve been?”

I cannot answer, it’s as though the monster that killed Temlin is now in my throat.

“Still a whinging pussy are you? You look fucking terrified, mate. What’s the matter, Pup? Not happy to see your own uncle? Give us a hug, eh? Warm me old heart.”

His hands are still in the pocket of the peacoat he’s wearing, but the two shadow beings hold their arms open, the gesture enough to help me rise to my feet and step backwards. “Why are you here?”

“To tell the truth, I was here for that,” he points to the book I left open on the table. “But I’m supposed to be looking for you too, so thanks for the help. Your Mum is going to be especially ecstatic about this.”

“Leave me out of it, leave me alone. Please, you’ve done enough.”

“Pleeeease,” he whines mockingly. “Please, oh, please. God, you’re fucking pathetic. I’m glad you ain’t mine, I’d be ashamed of you.”

It should not hurt, it’s not as though my parents hid their contempt for me, nor that James was ever kind. But it still hurts. And yet…I am no longer the child I was, and while terror grips me, so too does anger.

“Did your balls finally drop, Pup? You’ve got a look to you right now.”

“I won’t go with you,” I reply. “And I will not let you have the book.”

“See, that’s going to be a problem, ‘cause I’m not leaving empty handed.”

He lets out a shrill whistle, like he’s calling a dog, and one of the shadows lurches towards me – taking the shape of a monstrous canine. It moves so quickly that had I been human, it would have taken me down in that instant, because my senses are so much stronger I’m able to dart to the side and avoid it. I do not stop there, however, instead moving in a flash back to the table and retrieving both copies of the book to stuff into my satchel.

“What the bleeding fuck?” I hear him murmur. It would appear he knew nothing about me becoming a vampire.

It boldens me, enough so that I charge towards him before all my past trauma can catch up to me and make me freeze again. Unfortunately, his surprise does not hinder him enough, and he lets out another whistle that has the second shadow expand into a wall between him and me. I hit it and hear my voice wrenched from my throat as pain jolts through my entire being, like electricity crackling through every nerve in my body. I collapse to the floor, feeling momentarily separated from myself – the shock of that sudden agony forcing me to shut down.

“You aren’t even human anymore but you’re still fucking useless, hey?” James’ mocking voice floats above me. “Tell you what, hand over that satchel and maybe I'll let you go and tell your parents they don’t need you at all. Don’t seem like you’d do a lot of good for anyone.”

I feel the hairs on my arms stand on end and crack an eye open. The shadows are shapeless again, whirling over my satchel like dark vortexes. I fear they may sense the relic, even if Uncle James does not.

I also fear how appealing his proposal sounds. Who am I to get involved in these matters? I am no Centurion, I am no defender. I can go to the Order and point them in the right direction and they can stop my family…but as much as I want to say yes, I know James is a liar. Even if he wasn’t, it’s not up to him. It’s up to my parents, and if they say I am needed, he’ll be back. I force myself to ignore the pain that is only slowly ebbing away, setting a foot against the stone floor and pushing my body away from the dangerous trio. I roll to my feet by the table again, shifting the satchel bag behind me.

Despite my speed, I’m not sure how long I’ll dodge his strange companions. I need an escape. There are stained glass windows across the way, lining the opposite wall. I imagine they open to a courtyard in the Archives, the direction is wrong for them opening to the Market. Anywhere is better than here, but I have to be careful going forward.

The shadows grow again, they look like dark nets, coming steadily closer while James’ stocky form remains firmly in the middle of the aisle. I see my way and I move.

Initially I rush towards the gap between the shadow on the left and the bookcase. As I expected, it quickly expands to close that gap, but I leapt towards the right, to the bookcase. My foot lands lightly on the lip of a mid-level shelf, and I use the momentum to leap higher, back to the left bookcase towards its top. I move before gravity can pull me down again, running along the side of the bookcase until I am past Uncle James. I leap forward again, this time landing on the floor and ignoring the sound of his cursing, the rush of the shadows, the growing commotion outside this library annex as the Archivists catch on to foul play. My only concern is the window.

I feel that crackling of electricity again and know one of the shadows is right behind me. With an extra burst of adrenaline, I lunge forward, folding my arms to protect my face and crashing into the large window. There’s a brief moment of panic, thinking they may be reinforced against such a thing, but it vanishes when I hear the glass shatter, shards of it slicing my skin as I go through it.

There’s a drop of about thirty feet, and I land ungracefully in a green courtyard, coming down hard on my knees. There are benches here, and a tree that glows a gentle blue, its leaves glittering silvers and golds. I scramble to my feet and turn towards my impromptu exit, but I don’t see James or the shadow creatures. Did the Archivists apprehend them?

“Most use the door,” a voice rings out.

I step back, startled, to see a woman walking around the broad tree and into view. I know from her appearance that this is Vasilisa, recalling the details Riley shared with me. Although her hair is no longer in a braid, it spills freely down her back, nearly reaching to the ground.

“I’m sorry, there's—”

“I know,” Vasilisa replies. “He’s gone now though, dark magic indeed to be able to escape how he did.”

“The shadows?”

“Yes,” she says, not sounding alarmed at all about the situation. “An ancient spell, said to be forgotten…that should have been forgotten.”

I can hear noise from above us, from the room I just escaped. It sounds like Archivists have found Temlin’s body.

“Who are you?” she’s looking directly at me now, and the amber of her eyes is even more beautiful than the lights shimmering from the tree.

“My name is Henry Stone, I’m a friend of Riley Averline.”

The imposing expression on her face warms slightly. “He’s a special one.”

“Yes,” I agree genuinely.

“And he could help you.”

I stare at her, nonplussed. Just how much does she see? Her smile widens very slightly, and I cannot determine if it’s in kindness or amusement.

“Aren’t you concerned about what happened?” I ask.

“Yes,” she admits. “Less so because he failed to take anything with him, less so because he won’t be able to return.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I have his marks now,” she answers. “I’ll share them here, and in the Market, he’ll be apprehended if he comes here, he’ll be brought to me.”

“And what…would you do with him?” I tell myself I don’t care, that this is for the best, yet I find I need to know her answer to this inquiry.

Again that knowing smile, as if she is aware of everything going on in my mind and in my heart. Perhaps she does. “I will feast.”

He deserves worse, yet something in my chest constricts anyway so I only nod. She observes me and I decide it’s best I leave here as quickly as possible. But I cannot do so without fulfilling my task. I take both books out again, showing her the copy from the Archives. “I need to look at this, I was given permission to…but I didn’t have a chance before my…before I was attacked by that man.”

“No,” she says.

“No?”

“You may not. It will be safe here, its information. You could be at risk should you leave the Market and ‘that man’ finds you.”

“I wouldn’t tell him what I read,” I insist.

“It may not be up to you,” she warns. “Give me the books.”

I feel cheated, like I’ve gone through the trials of this night for nothing. I do not doubt she could easily overpower me, however, and with a frown I bring the two copies to her. She takes them and tucks them under her arm.

“Do not lose heart, Henry Stone,” she says. “What happened tonight has ensured the safety of these books. They will not be used for villainy.”

There is the point that my parents can’t have their copy anymore. If they did, they would not go to these lengths for the one in the Archives or Mattapan Maximum Storage. Still, this all feels wrong somehow. Not that I think Vasilisa is implicit in my parents’ plan, but that things are not as settled as she seems to believe they are. Riley spoke of how wise the dragon is, however, and how she seemed to see far more than what was right in front of her. Perhaps she knows more than I ever will, but I cannot shake this disturbance even as I try to convince myself otherwise.

“I’m sorry about the window.”

“It’s not a problem. I am sorry you went through such an ordeal in my halls.”

“Yes, well…as you say, it may have been to the benefit of far more than myself that I did,” I reply, trying not to let my disappointment ring too noticeably.

“I should help my fellow Archivists,” she says, obviously dismissing me.

She makes her way to a side door framed with ivy. Pulling it open, she holds it open for me, and I pass through it. “Keep going down this hall, you’ll get back to the main chamber,” she says. I thank her and watch glumly as she goes the opposite direction, books still firmly in her grasp.