The Changeling's Ghost (Thirteen Gates #1)

Libraries Have Never Been More Disappointing

She already knows about Conway. She already knows and Gus is onto me about Greta. Oh God, Greta.

"Sheryl?" I demanded. "You told her?"

"No, she found out herself. Your family is not known for their subtlety."

I stared at my feet and clenched my now-sweaty hands into fists and swiped my thumb over the knuckles. 

"Wh-what are you going to do?" I forced out.

Gus's face mimicked a Greek sculpture, cold as marble and fixed on a single blasé expression. His arms crossed defensively. "What we came here to do? Explore the missings persons report and arrest a criminal if we have to."
I paused. "My brother isn't a criminal."

"No one said he was."

Every second passing by in this conversation felt like another needle pricking my chest. This was a lot to process. These few weeks had been like going on holiday, which we barely did anyway, everything was different and it felt like I had dropped out of all my problems for a moment. Despite his annoyingly unrelenting dedication to his job and that terrifying American woman, Gus had distracted me from it all. For a few weeks I wasn't worried about my next stunt to get my parents' attention, or where Conway was and why he left me here alone. I didn't have to worry about... Greta.
That was all gone now.

"What are... we going to do?" Gus asked, tentatively.

"There's no 'we' in this situation." I snapped, then quietly I added, "there never has been, and you've made it clear there never will."

I would like to say he looked surprised, but he was about as easy to read as my mum's ancient Afrikaner texts. It's a power imbalance I loathe with a passion. I glanced up at him and he just... stood there, hands on his hips, a little awkward but composed. "C'mon partner, we can figure this out... together."

I stared at him in something between disbelief and exhaustion. I would like to say he's a riptide by the way he gets me to trust him and then rips the carpet out from under my feet like this, but Gus Washington is not the ocean. He's the cold salty ocean gust that blows the hair away from my face from on top of the sea cliff. The kind that makes my heart race and also threatens to send me over the edge. Gus is the devil winds, I expect a cooling breeze and instead I'm hit with a hot blast, drying up my lungs and leaving me even more breathless than before.

"Conway is my brother, he's my blood." I tell him. "I can't."

He takes a small step towards me. "Asher-"

"No." I insist, as firm as I can, and push his hands away. "I'll be back later."

Gus doesn't say anything but I can feel his eyes on the back of my neck as I walk away. No better time than now to follow up on that lead Diandre gave me. I almost feel... ashamed. Cutting out Gus should feel like a relief, no doubt, at the least, it would have felt like that in the days when he first arrived but now? I don't know. I should be forgetting him. He was the shiny new American, he doesn't understand our family. I have bled, sweat, and cried next to my brother and even though I'm terrified he left by his own choice I'm going to find him and bring him back. I don't have any other choice.

The Dinshire Library was something the town was really proud of. It's home to one of the archives connected to the Bodleian Library, one of the oldest libraries in Europe, second largest library in Britain, and the main research library of Oxford University. This particular archive happened to contain hundreds of years of collected gatekeeper knowledge and was only accessible by intergate. Conway, embarrassed by the fact he'd always had trouble activating his integral, had always dragged me along. He would sit here for hours and just read.No matter how cryptic the text, he would finish it-- if it was in another language, he would just write it down and start learning it. I would nag him so much to go home and "stop being such a nerd" but now I think I'd do anything to spend a few hours with him in this library again.

The ornarte and carved wooden door taunted me just like Conway used to as I stared at it. I didn't want to go inside, there were so many unearthed memories in that place that I hadn't touched in... so long. Mum and Con bent over one book, me trying to join in but losing interest quickly and left awkwardly talking about the weather with Dad. Nobody in England actually wants to talk about the weather, nobody actually wants to talk, it's just polite. We'd rather eat our own shoes then be rude.

The door opens suddenly and I'm met with a familiar face. What appears to mortals as a grisled old woman is actually a grisled old woman with ears poking out of her silvery hair and two blunts horns following suit. She's a relative of Aitamah, whose family tree was something nobody messed with if they knew what was best for them. The librarian was indeed fae, they tended to cluster around older things of magical importance, and what better place to find that then a library?

I actually didn't know her name, I was too scared to ask and Conway always seemed to just... know. She grimaced at me and my bedraggled appearance and I felt self-conscious all over again.

"Asher Northcott." She greeted me coolly.

"Hello... nice weather we're having today isn't it?" I managed.

"No," she replied simply. "What do you want, boy?"

"I heard you might have information on my brother's whereabouts?"

Her yellow eyes flashed dangerously. "No."

I couldn't help but taste the bitter sense of disappointment in my throat. "Wait... please if you can tell me anything-"
She closed the door on me. The lead was a dead end. I felt the silence of the closed door in my own mind. I don't want to say Diandre's tip had gotten my hopes up but...

I pushed the door open and stepped inside and the smell of books hit me like a punch to the spine. I was beginning to feel desperate, like the starving animals from Conway's books. I could even feel the warm, uncomfortable, dampness of tears in the corners of my eyes. I was so tired. Tired of putting up a charade, for Gus, for Con, for my parents.

I wandered into the non-fiction section (it's considerably emptier) where nobody ever bothered a pair of sad kids. I felt even worse as I recognized some of Con's favorite titles. Sliding down against an adjacent wall, I folded my arms over my knees and took in the silence. Library silence that was always tinged with this hazy gold feeling of sleep. It was like another world or... and escape.

"I think I get it." I whispered to the encyclopedia of English wildlife.

If Conway really wanted to just get away from here... and from me... I didn't blame him. There was so much pressure, and not enough right ways to do things. I don't think Greta would have wanted to leave, how he managed to convince her was a mystery. I guess... wherever her was, I hope he was okay. Even if Greta... I'm filled with guilt. It's definitely guilt. Maybe if I had  tried to choke down feelings like she had done this would be different. This has to be my fault.

I reached up and brushed the salt-water off my face and decided it was time leave. The walk back to my house was equally quiet and five times as cold. I'd figured out the feeling before, it was absence. There was an empty spot next to me that Gus had somehow managed to occupy. This had to be my fault. I had only gone from one unrequited relationship to another. It was karma at its finest.

I could hear my parents arguing in their study as I brought a cup of tea and a biscuit back to my room. That was also my fault. I don't know where Sheryl was but I'm glad I hadn't run into her yet. I did pass Gus in the hall and he stopped like he wanted to talk to me.

"Asher--"

"I'm tired." I cut him off, and kept walking.

He looked bewildered, but didn't make anymore attempts to stop me as I closed the door on his face. I took a few sips of tea and felt my body calm down. Then set the unfinished mug aside and laid down. I was exhausted. I could feel the weight of all of Britain on my eyelids, and for the first time in two years I fell asleep before eleven thirty.