Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
We are both hungry at that point, and not for food.
We drank each other at lunch that first day we were here, but the blood makes us tired and lazy. So we’ve decided to eat food at lunch and save the drinking for dinner.
I never imagined a life where I drank my boyfriend’s blood for dinner every night, or a life where I was carrying a wraith-like demon of the Darkness inside me, or a life where everything was so… temporary.
Because of course, nothing about this life we’re living is permanent. I don’t even have a soul.
But there’s no way to change any of that.
Either I find a way through it or I give up.
And I have decided that Ryet, and the Guild, and the library are my way through it.
This is our fifth day here.
I step through the doors of the library and walk in just far enough to get out of the way of people behind me. But then I pause, like I’ve done every morning for the past few days, to take it all in. I just can’t believe I never knew about this place.
Even though Tristin brought us back to the Guild using the mist that led to the school library, that’s not where I was told to report on the second day. This library is everything you picture in your head when you think of a place called the Guild Library. Old, and Gothic, and ornate. The one for the school kids—the one I worked in (the only one I knew existed four days ago)—would be considered utilitarian in comparison.
I’ve been reporting to a private first-floor reading room that is more like a small office than the study rooms I was used to from school. It’s comfy with golden velvet-tufted couches facing each other and a round wooden table between them. Every single inch of wall space is filled with bookshelves.
I have yet to be allowed to read a book. Which is funny—but not in a funny way—since upon arrival with Tristin five days ago, I was told to get started.
I haven’t even been allowed to touch a book yet.
The brass plate on the outside of this door calls this room ‘Level One’.
I’m starting at the beginning, I guess.
I’ve been in kind of an orientation with the Guild Archivist—a middle-aged man called Jaedon. He is tall, and handsome, and wears a cliché robe that gives off a high-ranking priest vibe.
But that’s not who’s waiting for me when I enter the ‘Level One’ room today.
I recognize his face, but can’t immediately place his name. His robes give off a similar priest vibe, though not a high-ranking one like Jaedon’s.
He extends his hand. “Syrsee. Hi. It’s…” He pauses here to just stare at me.
And that’s when I realize why he’s familiar. “Myer?”
He was already smiling but it grows bigger now. “You remembered. I wasn’t sure you would.”
I let out a long breath but don’t say anything. Because the last time I talked to Myer I was fourteen years old and we were about to have ourselves a kiss out by the Guild school lake.
This kiss was preempted by my bodyguard.
To save him, Myer the Guardian, from me, Syrsee the Black witch. Not the other way around.
“What are you doing here?” I glance around, looking for the Guild Archivist, acting like there is any possible way another person might be hidden from view in this small room.
“I’m your guide. From now on, anyway. I was assigned to you last night.”
I meet his gaze again. Unsure what this is all about. “Guide for what? I know how to read, I know how to find books in a library, and I know what I’m looking for. I’m pretty sure I don’t need a guide.”
“Well.” He sighs this word out. “You think you know. But.” He pauses to frown. Then his tone becomes more serious. “There’s actually a lot more to reading the Guild books than… well, reading them. So they—the Archivists—they want me to…” He shrugs. Almost bashfully. “They want me to take you through it.” He leans forward when he says this last part. And his voice lowers. Like he’s telling me a secret. “I’m the youngest Archival apprentice and I guess they figured, since we knew each other, that it would be…” He shrugs again. “Funner?”
“Funner?” I’m confused.
“I mean, more enjoyable. Since funner isn’t even a word.”
I smile, then chuckle unexpectedly. “What are you talking about?”
“Why don’t I just show you?” He walks over to the book shelf, pulls on the spine of a thin, colorful book, and then turns back to me and walks over to one of the couches. He sits down, and beckons me to take a seat next to him.
I hesitate. Feeling exasperated, and tired, and a little bit like a fool. Because all I want is to read the fucking books and every time I feel like I’m getting closer to doing that, something gets in the way.