The Archive of the Forgotten (Hell's Library #2) - A. J. Hackwith Page 0,92

a gnat beneath his skin. Brevity brought the blotter sheet up again but hesitated. Gaiety opened his mouth and a strangled creak slipped out. Past his lips, his teeth were white. And so was his tongue, and the long white nothingness of his throat. Brevity couldn’t stand to see any more; she pressed the blotter page against his face as the ink darted out of his mouth and toward his hairline.

The sheet fluttered as Gaiety sucked in rapid breaths, and Brevity held it there, uncertain how long was needed to capture the ink. His hair was draining of its normal pigmentation, fading swiftly from scarlet to something weak, like blood-tainted water. Abruptly, the breath rustling beneath the sheet stuttered, then stopped. Brevity exchanged a worried glance with Probity, who looked uneasy despite her earlier confidence.

She pulled the blotter sheet back, ready to slap it down again if the ink moved.

No ink moved. Instead, Probity let out a short scream.

Gaiety’s formerly rosy complexion was entirely an off shade of ivory. And the skin was an unblemished expanse. It was as if the blotter sheet had taken the features of his face as well. There was naught but smooth skin where the valleys of his eyes had been, and his mouth was no more than a divot in the pale clay of his skin.

Probity leapt back, horror taking over her face. When her eyes met Brevity’s, they were wet, and she shook her head rapidly. “I didn’t—this isn’t possible. I didn’t mean—”

Brevity stepped back as Gaiety lunged forward, pale hands already swimming into translucent claws. It was as if all of the muse was being absorbed by the ink, turning to paper and ice.

“We need to fix this! There’s got to be a fix.” Probity sounded pleading now. She held up her hands, and the abundance of lace at her wrists gave away her tremors.

Brevity shook her head. “I think we can call this experiment a f—”

They had forgotten about Verve. A white shadow streaked past her head, launching itself at Probity. They went down in a tumble, but the ink-blotted muse was fast, and rabid with movement. She smashed Probity’s face into the floorboards and leapt toward the end of the hall before Brevity could even act.

Gaiety made a creaking, breathless kind of sound, as if protesting his sibling leaving him behind. Brevity was already running. “Stay with Gaiety and keep him calm. I’ll go after her!”

“Sis!” Probity called, but Brevity didn’t look back. She had to keep her eyes peeled on the retreating ghost, a flutter of pale skin in the gloom of the hallway.

It canted through the door of Walter’s office, and Brevity groaned as she heard the clatter of shattered glass. She burst through the archway just in time to see billowing red and purple smoke—which travel jar had been shattered was difficult to tell, but she would have so much apologizing to do when Walter got back—and, just beyond, the retreating shape of Verve disappearing through the main door. Brevity skirted the smoke, saying a silent apology to Walter, and ran after her. They were in familiar hallways now, and Brevity gained on the maddened muse, but as they vaulted the stairs up a level, Brevity’s heart stopped.

She knew this path, and knew exactly where the feral muse was going.

The Library.

Brevity struggled to catch up, but the muse was fleet on pale white feet. It shrieked a hunger-pang sound that made Brevity’s teeth hurt and hurtled itself down the hallway. It made it past the gargoyle, who just blinked sleepiness in several dimensions. Some guard dog he was, but then again Brevity supposed there was no reason to ever bar muses from an open library. Verve scrabbled at the doors, leaving deep scratches in the wood as she rushed into the lobby.

“Verve, stop!” Desperation gave Brevity a burst of speed. She hurtled past the entry and flung herself at Verve with just enough momentum to snag her by the ankle. The washed-out muse went down, hissing and snarling. Brevity clamped down and tried to drag her back, but Verve’s claws shredded at the rug as she went. She couldn’t allow her to reach the books; above all else, Brevity knew with entire certainty that she could not allow anything with that kind of hunger to reach the books.

Brevity dragged Verve back at the cost of the rug. The younger muse was almost completely white now. Washed out and almost translucent in the weird light of her eyes.