Chaos (Lanie Bross) - Lanie Bross Page 0,17

was a very convincing imitation. He knew, instinctively, that she was more powerful than either Miranda or Rhys. He forced himself to not be afraid.

“I’m Luc,” he said. “I’m a friend of Rhys’s.”

The black of her pupils swallowed all the color at the mention of his name. “Rhys sent you?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

It was strange looking in her eyes—like staring down two dark tunnels. But Luc refused to look away first. “Rhys changed time once. He went back to save someone. I need to do the same thing.”

Tess stared at him for a second longer. Then she turned away, shaking her head. “He was a fool for doing it,” she said quietly. “What he did nearly cost him everything. He died in exile.”

“He saved someone he loved,” Luc said.

“She didn’t deserve it.” Tess turned back to him, eyes momentarily flashing white, and in that second, he had a fraction of an idea of who she really was, what kind of power she controlled, and he lost his breath. Then the impression passed, and her eyes returned to normal.

“He said you could help me. That you were the only person who could.”

“He was wrong.”

Tess tucked the book into her belt. Luc glanced at the binding. Rhys’s book. She started to turn away, and Luc grabbed her arm. She froze, staring at his hand, as if unused to being touched.

“Please,” he said. “Please. Just tell me how.”

She was still staring at his hand, as if she had never seen one before. “Time is not a single place,” she said quietly, almost as if she were talking to herself. “Time is space. It’s a tunnel that moves in infinite directions. It carries more energy, more possibility, than the force that created the universe itself.”

Luc seized on the only words he’d understood. “A tunnel,” he said. “Okay. So how do I get there?”

She lifted her eyes. Now they were violet and reminded him of Corinthe’s. “I already told you. I can’t help you.” She sounded sorry. “This is much bigger than you can understand. Go back to your world and forget.”

“I’ll never forget,” Luc said fiercely.

Tess smiled sadly. “Everybody forgets,” she said. “Everybody, in every world, is forgotten. All libraries go to dust, and all books will someday be unread.” She gestured to the thousands of shelves extending toward the ruined ceiling. “That is the rule of the universe.” She detached herself gently from his grip. “Go home. Before it’s too late.”

She turned away from him. Could he grab the book from her belt? He doubted it. She was stronger, much stronger than him. But he wouldn’t need her if he had Rhys’s book. The risk was worth it.

But before he could move, two flashes of light blinded him. He stumbled backward, blinking. When his vision cleared, he saw that two more people had materialized in the gray light.

Except they weren’t people, not really. They looked like abstract watercolor paintings, their features sketched improperly, as if the painter had been too lazy to do it right. Luc knew that this was closer to how Tess must look when she wasn’t trying to assume a human form, and he felt awed and also afraid.

“I’m being followed now?” Tess said. She sounded unconcerned.

“You helped Miranda escape.” The person—or thing—that spoke had no discernable mouth. But Luc heard the words perfectly.

Miranda had kidnapped Jasmine. Miranda had raised Corinthe and then betrayed her.

It was Miranda’s fault Corinthe was dead.

And Rhys had sent him to beg for help from someone who was on Miranda’s side?

“Miranda was right about one thing,” Tess snapped. “We have become just as bad as the Unseen Ones.”

The shapes lunged for Tess, and Luc saw his chance. Just as he grabbed the book from her belt, her belt, her body, her face—all of it evaporated. It was as if she just exploded. Suddenly, the room was full of sparks. Flames leapt across shelves like eager fingers, and columns of smoke spiraled toward the ceiling, but Luc had the book. Now he just had to get out before the whole place went up and took him with it.

He covered his mouth with his sleeve, fighting the urge to gag.

The smoke was so thick, so instantaneous, he couldn’t tell which way was out. He stumbled toward what he thought was the hallway, only to find himself in yet another recessed portion of the library, an alcove with no exit.

The fire had eaten up almost a whole wall. The air was thick with heat, with the roar of the flames. Luc’s