Henri Beck & the Hidden Library | 📖

25

Monet had everyone sit around the metal table in the center of the tent. Her mercenaries stood at attention around them, watching their every movement. Henri sat completely still as if he'd lost a staring contest to Medusa. He could still feel the barrel of Sergei's pistol digging into his forehead. He was pretty sure it left a mark on his skin. A shiver ravaged his body at the thought of him having been seconds away from death.

Had he not revealed the map to Monet...

He glanced at his dad, whose expression grew more worried with each passing moment. The man claimed to have made a vow that prevented him from helping Monet from achieving her goal. But now his own son might've just aided his enemy.

It wasn't like Henri had much of a choice. His father's hands might've been tied, but that didn't mean his were. But as he sat on the crate serving as his chair, he couldn't help but notice the dread pooling inside his stomach.

His mother grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently. Normally, that would've been enough to calm his frazzled nerves. Not now. There wasn't much that could soothe him at the moment. Still, he found solace in knowing his parents were safe—for the time being, anyway. Who knew what Monet had in store for them?

Speaking of...

"It's time you know the real reason behind my search for the Library of Alexandria," the woman announced as she stood before the row of screens illuminating the tent.

She gestured at the one to her left. The bright displays showcased a slideshow of crystal-clear images of ruins throughout various landscapes. They ranged from the Amazonian rainforest to the frozen mountains of the Himalayas. Decimated structures populated the images. Stones decorated with foreign engravings met Henri's eye. He'd never seen those symbols in any history book.

"There are secrets being kept from the world—secrets my people and I have been tasked with keeping for centuries."

She enlarged one of the images in the slideshow. She clicked a button on the remote in her hand and the picture turned into a video. A bloody battle was taking place in the underbrush of a Central African village; except they weren't fighting with weapons alone. Bursts of light and color exploded from the hands of the warriors battling. It reminded him of a fireworks show. His lips parted as he gawked at the video, unable to tear his eyes away.

Magic running in the veins of our great planet...

Those were the words of Dr. Collins, the professor who got him started on this journey. Henri thought the old professor was just rattling off nonsensical conspiracy theories. Magic wasn't real. He'd read plenty of myths and fables that depicted it—but that's all they were. Stories. Tales of the imagination.

But he'd just seen someone spout black fire from their palms on the screen across the room...

The old man's conspiracies might not have been conspiracies at all.

"What movie is that?" Malik asked with a nervous laugh.

"It's not a movie," she snapped. "These images and videos were taken just weeks ago, deep within the forests of the Congo."

Monet cycled to another video feed. This time, it was the snowy mountains in what Henri recognized as the Himalayas. Through the hazy fog floating through the range, he could see massive blocks of jagged white stones sticking out of the ground like the teeth of a primordial god frozen in the ice.

He turned his attention to the woman standing beside the screens. "What is this?" Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his parents shifting in their seats.

"The superhumans who now live among us are not the only threat to our everyday lives," Monet began. "But many of them fight against their own kind for us. But these things we protect the world from... They're much, much worse." She changed the video feeds on the screen to a single image of a palm marred with a brand. Except it wasn't a regular brand—this mark glowed with some sort of fluorescent energy that seemed to be coming from within.