The Library of the Unwritten - A. J_ Hackwith Page 0,105
the pages and a head start on . . . whatever.”
Leto remembered Andras’s words. “He wants the Library.”
Claire seemed unsurprised. She crossed her arms. “He wants more than that, I suspect. He wants the court.”
“The court?”
“Hell’s court of demons. Dukes, princes, the whole pit of vipers.” Claire made a face of distaste. “Andras was a duke of some influence, once. He was overthrown in a coup centuries ago. Infernal politics. I thought time had healed that insult, but I was wrong. I knew he was unusually interested in the codex. I thought it might lead to some pissing match over its curation. But I could deal with that easily enough when we got back. I never thought . . .” Claire kicked a reed, abusing it with the toe of her sneaker.
“But why the Library?” Hero asked.
Claire frowned down at the plant. “I’m not certain.”
“He said something about . . . ah, you know who,” Leto said.
“Lucifer’s our ruler, not a dark wizard, Leto. You can say his name,” Claire muttered. “He said he wanted to use the books as collateral, to buy his way back into power. But he has to assume that Lucifer will not tolerate that. Even if he has the codex, I can’t see—unless he knew something he wasn’t telling me—” Claire stopped with a growl in her throat. “Demons, angels . . . politics ruins everything.”
“Right. Sorry. I just . . .” Leto waited until Claire left her tormented reeds behind and met his gaze. “Andras had something—a soul gem, he called it. He said he could have used it but didn’t. If we stay away.”
It hung in the air a moment—the possibility of retreating. Leto saw that twitch again. That strain under pressure ignored. Claire shook her head and his chest ached. “The old man never did understand.”
“Leto might have a point,” Hero spoke up. “He could already have won and have something unpleasant waiting.”
“He won’t have the books. Brevity is there, and the Library is not without its own humble defenses. I won’t risk the books—or Brev—to Andras’s plans. We’ll get back the pages.” She kicked a broken reed into the water. “Assuming we can leave.”
The reed barely cleared the surface when a froth of sound drew their attention. Claire leapt back from the bank as the water churned, turning from slate to muddy black. A knobby, elongated skull the size of a small island broke the surface. Green and silver veins mottled the skin, contrasting with the flat, black, bulbous eyes embedded at the top of a long snout. It reminded Leto vaguely of a crocodile, but he didn’t remember the creatures on Earth being so monstrous.
The creature regarded them, the only movement coming from the filthy water beading down its snout. Claire glanced at Hero and Leto before clearing her throat and stepping forward. She drew up her dignity, and it almost obscured her bedraggled hair and sand-caked legs. “Greetings. We are envoys from—”
BE JUDGED.
Leto nearly startled off his feet. It was not so much a voice that had spoken but an assault of concept. Something had ripped open his skull and shoved the essence of the words directly into his brain, jumbling all thoughts of his own. The words had no voice, no tenor, no personality. Just the power of age and a hunger that was never refused. They pulsed through his head for several breaths until finally easing into a thudding headache.
The shudder that whipped through Hero and Claire said they’d received the same treatment. Hero’s hand flew to his side, where his gun had returned to its form as a fine sword. Claire shot him an alarmed look and shook her head until his hand dropped away again.
Claire straightened into her librarian demeanor: shoulders back, spine straight, chin tilted so she could fix her gaze on whatever held her disdain. But she eyed the crocodile creature with new caution, and Leto caught her fingers making nervous little taps at her skirts as she tried again.
“You mistake me. We are not the dead seeking judgment. I am the head librarian of the Unwritten Wing in Hell’s Library. We happened here while on Hell’s business. Can I know what realm we’ve entered?”
BE REFUSED.
Claire flinched. “Then may I speak to your master?”
BE REFUSED.
“Then what god or pantheon rules this place?”
BE LOST.
“You have no god? Or no god currently?” Claire asked. Pain jabbed Leto’s head with each answer. It was becoming the worst game of twenty questions he’d experienced.