Fate's Demand (Twisted Fate, Book 3)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Memorizing the way from the Great Library to the garden helped me to navigate my way back to the resources that it offered. Millions of books filled with words waited for me to decipher. Knowing I could never hope to read them all, I didn't know where to begin. Even before I started, I was sure I would never want to stop.

Pinewood cleaner wafted to meet me as soon as I opened the heavy door and slipped inside. It was Heaven—my version, anyway—and I couldn't believe it wasn't filled past capacity with readers eager to devour. Only three tables were occupied, lit at their center with lamps. As far as I could tell, it was the only room that wasn't filled with the same shining Glory that could be seen through the aisles in the distance, probably so the ancient texts wouldn't fade into obscurity.

It was also the only room I'd seen since leaving the one I woke up in after the attack at the arcade where shadows could find a place to dwell.

Bypassing all six people present, I strode to the right and climbed the stairs into the balconies. The volumes held in shelves placed against the walls was the smallest in the room, yet by far larger than any mortal collection. It rounded all the way around the room without breaking. Chairs, couches, and tables were set against the railings for comfort.

I browsed the shelves, hardly understanding the titles in the vast array of languages. Each looked important, though, like they documented evolution in each culture as it occurred. If it wasn't recorded somewhere, it wouldn't exist, forgotten or misconstrued by time. Without each piece of the past somehow intact, we'd have never realized the present. That was history, which mattered even when it bored you.

Stopping halfway around, I found texts that seemed to shine of their own accord. Brilliant and gold, each was embossed with indiscernible symbols I somehow knew belonged to the angels. None were represented with words I could understand, though my gut told me they would provide answers.

I stepped back until I felt the railing behind me and looked over its side to the floor below. More of the glowing books shone upon a jutting shelf raised on a platform. Moving quickly without running, I made my way down the closest set of stairs, past the occupants that had grown to inhabit six tables, and to the shining wonders.

Right in front of me, written in English, were my answers.

Creation, The History of Angels, A Guide to Mortals, Lucifer's End... So many answers! All I had to do was reach out and pull them off the shelf, and I could learn so much of what nobody would tell me. It would be so simple.

Too easy.

"Those aren't for you to read."

My hand made it an inch away from the reading material that'd caught my eye as somewhere to start my self-study before the hand belonging to the voice grabbed my forearm in a solid, almost painful hold. My stomach dropped. The excitement that had been coursing through me ceased like a live wire dropping as the electricity was cut off.

I tugged. "Don't grab me, Raffy."

He let go, and I cradled my arm to my chest, rubbing it with my other palm to cool the ache that had settled.

Turning to face him, I glared. Didn't he have duties to fulfill or something? Or was he so important he could slack off and get away with it? Even if that was true, I was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to talk to me like I was his servant or a child reaching for a snack before dinner was served. Why did he grab me so hard? Did Raffy want to see who could hold their own the best? I might not win, given he'd had millennia to learn to fight, but I would be better than most and hopefully do well enough to make him rethink man-handling me again.

Raffy leaned one arm on the banister leading up the center of the steps onto the podium and pointed to the books. Raising his eyebrows, he lifted his mouth in a half smile, and said, "Then don't read forbidden texts."