Beneath the Surface [ON HOLD]

Chapter Ten - Handprints on a Palace of Secrets

Chapter Ten - Handprints on a Palace of Secrets 

The library stretches out before me - a never ending sea of books, cobwebs and dust. 

I can't help but groan inwardly when I think of all the work that needs to be done - thousands of books to dust off and arrange, curtains that need to be beaten... 

I steel myself and take a step into the room, my footsteps echoing slightly against the chessboard floor. Curving steps lead up to a small balcony that overlooks the ground floor of the library. Only a few, smaller bookshelves line the walls and a scattering of threadbare armchairs sit proudly beside them, their colours faded from the sun that streams in through the stained glass windows adjacent to them.  

The floor to ceiling bookshelves loom over me, imposing in size. The curtains are drawn slightly to prevent the sunlight from damaging the pages of the more ancient books.  

I gaze around me, tilting my head from side to side, trying to make out the worn titles on the spines. I can't help but wish I knew how to read... 

To sit around day after day, immersing oneself in knowledge many people have long forgotten is strangely fascinating. To let ones imagination travel to places both fictional and real... 

"Are you just going to stand there? Or are you actually going to work?" a voice says sarcastically, snapping me out of my musings. 

I roll my eyes in irritation, ignoring Nicholas' comment. Setting my trusty bucket and mop at my feet with a soft 'thud', I walk cautiously towards the windows, fully determined to tackle the threadbare and probably bug-filled curtains.  

"They won't bite, you know." Nicholas says mockingly.  

I glance behind my shoulder and glare at him, "Says you." 

Nicholas chuckles softly, "I suppose." He says, shrugging indifferently, "They have been there for about five years now."  

I freeze in my tracks, "Five years?!"  

Nicholas nods sombrely, "I think they well and truly deserve a good cleaning, don't you?"  

I stare at him, my expression a mix of horror and anger, "You expect me to clean something that is probably infested with Heaven-knows-what?" I ask slowly and precisely. 

"That's what you're here for, isn't it?"  

I blink at him in disbelief, "And what if I get bitten?" I ask indignantly, "And die a horrible, painful and gory death?"  

"Don't be so dramatic-" 

"Is it even possible for me to die, though?" I say, distractedly, "After all, you do have my soul... So without my soul is it possible for me to die? Or am I immortal? Or-" 

"Red." 

I stop and take a breath, rubbing my temples, "I apologize - it's just-" I cut myself off immediately. Nicholas doesn't need to know about my dreams. 

"Just what?"  

I shake my head, "Never mind." I say softly.  

Nicholas moves towards me silently and places his hands on my shoulders. I start at this sudden contact, looking up at him questioningly. In all my time here, he had never shown me any type of affection, not even a well done or good work - not even a friendly pat on the back or simple handshake. 

"Really, Nicholas - it's nothing." I say awkwardly, scratching the back of my neck. 

"It's clearly not, little Red. Don't think I don't hear you at night - crying for your mother."