Carmiabell: The Black Apple

Chapter 16

Mrs Tuth unplugged a book whose title was hazy from a distance and replaced it with another she had been holding in her right hand. It felt like a bizarre game of library colors, but with more magic at play.

Once again, she cocked her head, eyeing her surroundings with the intensity of a detective on a crime show. Yep, still alone with this hidden library secret.

With a flourish, she spun the key. Just like the first time, an inconspicuous blue glow seeped across the shelves, transforming the otherwise mundane library into a scene from a mystical dream-if dreams involved dusty tomes and a suspicious amount of glitter.

As she extracted the key from the book with the green spine, which returned it to its initial appearance, now looking as innocent as a toddler with a crayon. The spine didn't even hint at its secret keyhole.

Click, click, click. Her boots echoed through the marbled library walls as she walked away. She was practically a ninja, if ninjas had a penchant for ancient literature and an alarming tendency to trip over their own feet.

All along, my heart was in everything but its composure. Everything that had just happened felt like a scene from one of those over-the-top fantasy novels where the protagonist has far too much luck. How could so much magic linger around me, hiding like a shy cat in a pile of laundry?

The library was one of my favorite places-most of my research books came from nowhere else, and I had roamed these walls more times than I could count. Who knew what else they had hidden? A secret opening? A doorway to another timeline? A chicken? I mean, magic is unpredictable-though I wouldn't say no to a pet chicken.

Just then, Damon went rushing for the green-spined book like a kid spotting a jelly wagon. I followed, second-guessing every step. Outsmarting a vampire could not possibly be so trouble-free.

His enthusiasm was practically written all over him. I half expected him to break into a victory dance right there in the library, complete with jazz hands.

Damon borrowed the green-spined book and flipped it open. To his disappointment, it was just another romance story. If he didn't know better, he might have thought it was a normal book-its pages thin as blades and a gutter as innocent as a lamb. The intimate couple's tale could have fooled anyone. Anyone but us.

Yet, the spine remained rigid, refusing to budge, even under Damon's vampire strength. He grunted, but it was more of a pout than a battle cry. Surprisingly, even the gutter between the two neighboring books was empty-all we could see was a wall at the end.

Then, Damon recalled Mrs Tuth's way of making it unravel. He restored the book and tapped its spine twice. It opened up revealing a keyhole intersected by a steel-like rail engraved with sinister symbols from an ancient, dead language. It was the sort of language that made my headache just looking at it-like trying to decipher a toddler's crayon drawings.

The keyhole loomed darkly, resembling a black apple smashed against it, or like the void itself had decided to take a vacation there. Vampires aren't exactly wizards, but one thing was clear: whatever concealment spell had been cast was strong enough to deceive everyone's eyes unless they had the key to delve deeper.

Damon grinned but quickly faltered when I met his gaze. He hadn't been sleeping well, and it showed. The bags beneath his eyes practically screamed for a nap, and I could bet my favorite book that his irises had turned crimson. His hair looked like it had gone to battle without him, and something about him was definitely off.